spirituality – Page 5 – Southwest Conference Blog

Wait—what??

by Rev. Deb Worley

“I could ask the darkness to hide me
or the light around me to become night,
but even darkness is not dark for you,
and the night is as bright as the day….”

(Psalm 139:11-12)

Wait—what??

“I could ask the darkness to hide me
or the light around me to become night…”

I don’t know about you, but I tend to want the exact opposite–
generally, I want to get out of the darkness;
I’m eager for the night to become day,
for the darkness to turn to light…

Why was the psalmist wanting the darkness to hide him?
Why, if he was in the light, was he wanting that light to become dark?

I can’t help but wonder if he was feeling ashamed of something–
ashamed, and wanting to hide away in the dark….

Or perhaps he was feeling depressed–
and wanting to keep others from seeing it….

Maybe he was feeling
unwanted, unworthy,
unlikable, unlovable–
and imagining
that if he couldn’t see himself,
his feelings of wretchedness
would be similarly invisible….

Those kinds of feelings
can make us want to hide,
can make us afraid
of anyone looking too deeply into us,
can cause us to wish
that any light that happens to be shining on us
would magically turn to darkness,
suddenly turn to night….

Those kinds of feelings can cause us
to not want to be seen,
to feel ashamed to be known,
to feel unworthy of being loved….

Those kinds of feelings, I can imagine,
might lead us to want
to be hidden in the darkness,
to be hidden by the darkness….

“I could ask the darkness to hide me
or the light around me to become night…”

Hmmm…I think I get it….

And yet…
the psalmist realizes
that even in the darkness,
he won’t be hidden from God.
Even if the light turns to night,
God will still see him.

God will still see him,
and seeing him, God will love him.

God will still see him–and his shame and depression–
and God will love him.

God will still see him–and his feelings of being unworthy and unlovable–
and God will love him.

The psalmist realizes that
no matter the darkness of the night,
no matter the darkness of his soul,
the brightness of God’s love will shine on him still.
Period.

He need not fear the light,
he need not fear being seen,
he need not long to be hidden by the dark.

He is seen by God, and he is loved.
Period.

So it is for us.

May the peace of God be with us all.
Amen.
Deb

Elements

by Rev. Dr. Barb Doerrer-Peacock

Elements of the SWC Logo

the saguaro – our faith communities

The saguaro cactus is unique to the Sonoran desert of central and southern Arizona/northern Mexico. It weathers the harsh desert climate through slow and steady growth, adapts to the heat with a tougher skin on its sunniest side, grows its arms to balance itself against the winds, and provides a home and nourishment for a wide diversity of desert-dwelling creatures. In our logo, the saguaro is the symbol of our Southwest Conference churches, with its adapted cross-like shape it reminds us of our relationship and rootedness with God as shown to us by the life of Jesus. We grow toward God and reach out with arms into our communities. We are adaptive to the needs of our changing environment and balance ourselves to accommodate the heat of challenge and transitions. We seek to create safe sanctuary and space for welcoming diversities of people. We also draw a unique mission identity from our geographic region that lies on our nation’s southern border. There are many “borders” in our life, and in following the path of Jesus, we seek to bridge those borders and boundaries with love, justice and acts of compassion.

the sun – our still-speaking God

A primary character in any desert geography is the sun. It gives light and heat, often in extreme ways. It holds the power of both life and death. Our logo sun is the symbol of our relationship with our Still-Speaking God. The spiral echoes our UCC comma, a metaphor for our continuing testament. God’s transcendence and immanence is also symbolized in the spiral – the inward and outward spiritual journeys, and the rays of God’s light that reaches into any void and chaos, reveals truth, the warmth of compassionate love, and the heat of passionate commitment to a just world for all.

the mountain – our everyday sacred spaces and callings

Mountains have represented mystical and sacred spaces to human beings the world over, in all ages. The mountains of the Southwest are widely varied from barren piles of volcanic rock, to thickly forested and habitats of wildlife, to colorfully layered canyons and cliffs, mesas and buttes, carved through eons by wind and water. The mountains in our logo represent our grounded everyday spaces in which we live out God’s calling and incarnate the kin-dom of God. There are peaks and valleys to our lives that we navigate, there are hidden dangers, yet also grand vistas. There are deep grounded traditions, yet also places we stand to vision the future. There is sustenance and nurture, caring for and teaching one another, sheltering the weak, giving challenge and leadership to the strong.

the wind – God’s Spirit among us

In many places in the Southwest, the wind is often a constant companion, blowing across wide expanses of high and low deserts. It carries with it topsoil and dust, much-needed moisture and variations of temperature and weather. Wind is one of the symbols of the Holy Spirit, blowing with power through the people of God in every time and place, sustaining and guiding life and God’s purposes. Our logo wind, like clouds around the mountains, is God’s Spirit among us, in our life spaces, guiding, sustaining, and empowering us. It brings us through the cycles of seasons, of sunrises and sunsets, it rides on our prayers and our songs to give strength for new beginnings and good endings, fertile soil of creativity and transformative change.

the water – our shared structures and resources for ministry and mission

The element of water in the Southwest is definitive. It defines life by where it exists, how it flows, and where it is not. Plants and animals have learned to survive and thrive even in the midst of its scarcity. It is vital for life yet can be destructive and bring death in its force. It connects us through shared resources, yet it divides us by defining boundaries and borders. In our logo, as the waters of baptism welcome us to God’s grace and community, our water element represent the structures and resources of our life together in ministry and mission. We are stewards of our faith community organizations and resources. We strive to maintain a fluidity and adaptability needed to stay vital, yet also recognize the need for boundaries and organizational structure to hold us accountable to each other that we might live with integrity even as we are surrounded by God’s grace.

Come and See

by Rev. Victoria S. Ubben

“But I did not believe the reports until I came and my own eyes had seen it. Not even half had been told me; … wisdom and prosperity far surpass the report that I had heard.”
(This is Victoria’s loose translation of 1 Kings 10:7.)

For many years now, I have been drawn to Loretto Chapel and its miraculous staircase in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Having lived a bit in Kentucky earlier in my life, I had visited the motherhouse of the Sisters of Loretto in Nerinx (near Bardstown), Kentucky, and had heard the tales of the sisters there heading out the “wild west” to educate girls. I never imagined that years later I would relocate to Santa Fe and then be employed at what is now called Loretto Chapel Museum.

Like the translation above of 1 Kings 10:7, the Queen of Sheba had heard about the accomplishments and fame of King Solomon, but she did not believe it until she came and with her own eyes had seen it all. Many have heard about the miraculous staircase at Loretto Chapel, but some must make the journey to see it with their own eyes. Hundreds of guests flock to Loretto Chapel daily to gaze upon this staircase (constructed in late 1879, after the chapel had been completed a year prior in 1878). People of faith call this staircase “miraculous” because we do not know for sure who built it, how it can stand with no center support, or the wood from which it has been made. There are several theories about these things, but the Sisters of Loretto could live with mystery (and so can I).

Every day that I work at Loretto Chapel, I hear dozens of tales about how modern-day pilgrims have traveled to this remarkable place. Here is one such story:

Just last week, a young Spanish-speaking man came to visit our chapel and was trying to ask me questions about its miraculous staircase. Pedro’s English skills are much better than my Spanish skills, so I let him take the lead on this conversation. Pedro was accompanied by two very elderly people who appeared to be well-worn from lots of sunshine, decades of hard work, and whatever trials and tribulations they might have undergone in life. Pedro told me that these two people were his grandparents and he had driven them in his car all the way from a village outside of Mexico City to Santa Fe. His grandparents had just one wish before they died: to see the miraculous staircase at Loretto Chapel with their own eyes. Pedro looked so young to be taking his grandparents on a journey like this. Whatever his age, I do think it is noteworthy that a teenager would drive his elderly grandparents from central Mexico to Santa Fe to see Loretto Chapel and its staircase before they die!

Pedro and his grandparents had heard of Loretto Chapel and its miraculous staircase, but they wanted to see it with their own eyes. Pedro was able to tell me that the mystery and beauty of this well-constructed staircase far surpassed any reports that they had heard.

Why do religious pilgrims of all ages and of all faiths make long, difficult journeys to sacred places? What draws people to these places? Is it the spirit of God that calls us? Or is it the voices of our ancestors that beckon us? Could it be both? Where has God’s still-speaking voice called you? When you finally arrive at such a sacred space, what do you do? Take photos? Buy souvenirs at the gift shop? Sit quietly and meditate? Like Pedro and his grandparents… do you light a candle and say a prayer of gratitude for mystery, beauty, and a miracle that we may never understand? Pedro and his grandparents were expecting to encounter God inside Loretto Chapel… and I am certain that they did.

(If you do not know much about Loretto Chapel and its miraculous staircase, here is a short video clip to whet your appetite!)

An Antidote for My Racing Mind

by Rev. Deb Worley

“Happy are those…[whose] delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on [God’s] law they meditate day and night.
They are like trees planted by streams of water,
which yield their fruit in its season…”

(from Psalm 1)

As I lay in bed last week, for hours and hours…and hours…, waiting for my body to recover from whatever bug I had caught that laid me up (or more accurately, laid me down!), there were times when my mind went in a million different directions. On occasion, as it raced, in an attempt to calm it down, I found myself reciting some of these simple phrases: “God is good…God is faithful…God is with us….”

Those phrases are not necessarily found among the 613 commandments found in the Hebrew Bible–“the law of the Lord”–and as such, are likely not what the psalmist was referring to when he wrote about those happy people who “delight in the law of the Lord,” meditating on it nonstop.

But to me, those phrases–God is good…God is faithful…God is with us–encapsulate much of the truth and beauty and power of our faith.

And when I can think about those things rather than the things that cause me anxiety or fear, then I become more solidly grounded–kind of like a tree.

When I can think about those things rather than all the things I don’t know or don’t understand, then I become more deeply nourished–kind of like a tree whose roots are fed by nearby water.

When I can think about those things rather than trying to desperately figure out how I can solve, fix, or help everyone or everything around me, then I become less tied to both my efforts and the immediate outcomes and tangible results, and more trusting of things happening as and when they need to–kind of life a tree whose roots are fed by nearby water, whose fruit grows when it’s time for the fruit to grow.

I’m pretty sure I will never find delight in meditating on the 613 laws found in the Old Testament. But I trust I will continue to find meaning in meditating on the simple and profound truths found in phrases such as “God is good” and “God is faithful” and “God is with us.”.

I wonder if you do, too?

Peace be with us all.
Deb

Photo by Michael & Diane Weidner on Unsplash

He makes me lie down

by Rev. Deb Worley

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures….”

(Psalm 23:1-2)

“He makes me lie down…”

I have been struck by that phrase for years. In fact, I looked back last night at something I wrote in April 2017 about it, and it felt surprisingly relevant to our current COVID experience….

I’d like to share that reflection here. Here goes:

The 23rd psalm–such a familiar and beloved psalm: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want….”

Unlike many other familiar Biblical passages, it is, perhaps, a passage that remains most familiar to many people in the language of the King James Bible:

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,

For thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me….”

Even the rhythm of the words seems to bring comfort, in addition to the assurance that the words themselves convey! It’s a psalm of trust, a song of comfort, a declaration of quiet confidence in the power, the compassion, the benevolence, and the Goodness of God.

There’s one verse in particular, however, that is speaking to me as I read this psalm today. One part of one verse, in fact, that is calling me to deeper reflection:

“He makes me lie down in green pastures….” (Ps. 23:2a, NRSV)

“He makes me lie down in green pastures….” What’s not to like? Lush, green pastures, with pillowy tufts of grass inviting me to lie down and rest. Lush, green pastures, ready and waiting for me to pause, sink down into them, and be rejuvenated.

Of course, God would want, would invite, me to lie down in such a place if God’s purpose was that my soul might be restored (cf. vs 2b)!

Would my soul be restored by, say, lying down in a barren, parched desert? I don’t think so….

Would my soul be restored by resting in a crowded, noisy shopping mall? Not so much….

Would my soul be restored if I tried to unwind in a foreign place where I don’t speak the language or understand the culture? Not likely.

So God, in God’s infinite wisdom, would understandably invite me to stop, to rest, to lie down in a peaceful place, a comfortable place, a place of obvious restoration. God would invite me to lie down in green pastures….

But wait–that’s not actually what the psalm says–God doesn’t invite me to lie down in green pastures, as it turns out. The psalm says that God makes me lie down in green pastures….

Hmm….Why would I resist resting in a peaceful, comfortable, restorative place? Why would I have to be made to lie down in green pastures??

Today [mind you, this was April 30, 2017!], I find myself considering the idea of being made to lie down, of being forced to rest, of having no choice but to accept a period of inactivity and stillness–all of which seem to imply some sort of resistance, some degree of reluctance, some level of unwillingness on the part of, well, me….

Where might that resistance to “lie down” come from? Does it come from me not wanting to stop doing what I’m doing? Does it come because I’m afraid I won’t know who I am or what my purpose is if I stop doing what I’m doing?

Where might that reluctance to rest come from? Does it come from me being comfortable where I am? Does it come because the place where I’m being made to “lie down” seems somehow uncomfortable?

Where might that unwillingness to be still come from? Does it come from a feeling that it’s not okay to not be active? Does it come from an impression that it’s a sign of laziness and/or selfishness, or something similarly unacceptable, to not be busy, or productive, or useful, all the time?

Why would I resist resting in a peaceful, comfortable, restorative place?

Why would I have to be made to lie down in green pastures??

Maybe, from my perspective, the place where God wants me to “lie down,” to be still, doesn’t look like green pastures at all, but more like an empty, parched desert–lonely…uncomfortable…too quiet…devoid of water and life… Or maybe, from where I stand, my assigned place of inactivity appears more like a shopping mall–noisy…crowded…overflowing with too much stimulation…. Or maybe, the place that God knows will be “green pastures” for me feels for all the world like a foreign land–a place totally unknown, with practices I’m not familiar with and a language I don’t understand….

Perhaps it feels like God is forcing stillness and inactivity on me, that God is making me lie down, in a place that does not seem peaceful, that does not feel comfortable, that does not fit any notion I’ve ever had or could even ever imagine as being the least bit restorative to my burdened soul….

Yet here I am, being made to lie down in green pastures, so that my soul might be restored….

“Clearly, God, You don’t know what You are doing, if You think this—

[desert/shopping mall/foreign land…health crisis/job loss/loved one’s death…

whatever it is that forces us, reluctantly, into a period of inactivity and stillness…]

–is a green pasture!”

…or could it be that we don’t know what God is doing??…and that “this” is, in fact, in spite of what it may look and feel like to us, a place of green pastures, meant for the restoration of our souls??….

Amen.

And peace be with us all.
Deb

When there’s nothing good to thank God for

by Rev. Deb Worley

“Give thanks to the Lord because God is good,
because God’s faithful love lasts forever.”
(Psalm 118:1)

In reading this verse I was once again struck by my tendency to “give thanks to the Lord” not because God is good, but because of my perception that God is good to me. If I’m honest, I have to acknowledge that I want to “give thanks to the Lord” not because God’s love lasts forever, but because of my sense that somehow, that love has shined on me.

But what about when bad things happen? What about God feels absent? I confess that my default tendency in those moments is not to “give thanks to the Lord.” How can I thank God when there’s nothing good to thank God for?

And there it is–when it feels like “there’s nothing good to thank God for,” perhaps I’m missing the point of giving thanks. As a person of faith, I’m invited to give thanks to God because God is good, not because God does or doesn’t do good things for me. As a person of faith, I’m invited to give thanks to God because God’s love is bigger and broader and deeper and more eternal than anything else in my life–good or bad.

As a person of faith, I’m invited to accept the invitation of the psalmist and give thanks to God because of who God is and how God loves. Period.

And you are, too.

May it be so!
Deb

Inclining our Ear Toward God: Listening As A Church

by Rev. Teresa Blythe

In a world full of solutions, opinions, and advice, listening is one of the most important gifts we can offer one another. It is an act of healing and vision. For people of faith and their communities, the gift of listening both to one another and God offers a path to spiritual renewal and grants congregations a vision of their identity. In a time when congregations are experiencing a steep decline in membership and facing significant uncertainty, learning to listen deeply to one another and seeking through listening to discern God’s path for a faith community’s future just might be one of the most important acts a church can engage in.

Rev. Chad Abbott and I minister in a denomination (UCC) that believes “God is still speaking.” The phrase expresses the reality that God is much more mysterious and far-reaching than we can understand. While the Bible continues to serve as the primary source of revelation for Christians, God is still being revealed to us in this world, in a culture the ancient world could not have imagined.

Sadly, it is evident to us as leaders in the Mainline American church that many Christians do not know how to listen for God, despite their deep longing to connect with a God who still speaks. Just as individual Christians struggle to listen for God, faith communities labor to listen for God together. Many are not able to slow down and approach church life in a reflective, contemplative manner.

Chad and I have written “Incline Your Ear: Cultivating Spiritual Awakening in Congregations” (Fortress Press, 2021) to encourage spiritual growth and vitality in faith communities in this listening pursuit. Throughout our book we share spiritual practices designed to help your congregation “incline its ear” toward God. Notice we used the singular “ear.” We believe congregations need to understand themselves as unified — one body, rather than a collection of individuals. As we are both spiritual directors, we explain the principles and practices of contemporary spiritual direction so that congregations can understand and use them. We even outline a “Congregational Spiritual Road Map” at the end of each chapter with step-by-step instructions for leading spiritual practices in awareness of God, reflection on the congregation’s life together, discernment, and creating an action plan to move forward on what is discerned.

With each important decision we make, with every relationship we build, with every church mission statement or ministry we design, and in matters of vocation and prophetic witness, the skills of discernment and listening in the spiritual life will make for vital congregations. While we face declining membership and generational shifts in loyalty to the church, it is clear to us that it is both a challenging, and exciting time to be the church. We have the opportunity to imagine a new future as we listen for God’s leading. All the spiritual resources we need to become that newly-imagined and future church is already within and around us if we will but incline our ear to the work of the Spirit.

We believe this work is so important. The world outside church doors will not wait around for clergy to figure out how to connect contemplative life at home with congregational life at church, so naturally the spiritually curious turn to yoga studios, meditation mats, healing stones, and spirituality apps — and who can blame them? Yet, the church has a deep and abiding tradition of spiritual practices that can help spiritual pilgrims in our time get to the heart of their yearning. In particular, the work of spiritual direction has the potential to not only enhance spiritual vitality in the church, but to push us toward congregational vitality that helps churches more fully live out their mission in the world in a time when a vibrant church is desperately needed.

Rev. Teresa Blythe is the director of the Phoenix Center for Spiritual Direction at First UCC Phoenix. Rev. Chad Abbott is Conference Minister for the Indiana-Kentucky Conference of the UCC.

Make the Change During Lent

by Rev. Victoria S. Ubben

We have found some Lenten inspiration in rocks and minerals collected from around the globe: some samples from six of our seven continents are placed on the mantle of the kiva fireplace in our living room. (We have yet to make it to Antarctica and it is unlikely that we would bring back any rock specimens from that frigid place anyway.)

To these ancient rocks, we added dry sticks collected from the arroyo (the steep-sided gully that is bone dry most of the time) in the high mountain desert where we have made our home (for now). Rocks and sticks… seemingly lifeless. After the Festival of the Epiphany (January 6), we had plenty of used, spent, short, stubby white candles on hand. The tired candles from Epiphany were recycled into new symbols for our Lenten journey.

Each Sunday, another candle is lighted. Purple cloth is added now for a bit of color.

Eventually, all six of these candles will be aglow (one for each completed week of this journey through the desert), the stones will be rolled away for good, the purple cloth will be replaced with something else (yet unseen and yet unknown).

So it is with the human heart this Lent. Heavy rocks, dry sticks, leftover candles are symbolic reminders of what might be hiding in our hearts. Specifically, if your life seems out of balance, move things around. (Restructure your work week so that you can balance work, relaxation, and sleep.) If your days are too busy and your life is too full, get rid of what is no longer needed. (Don’t sign up for another socially distant online study group, if another Zoom meeting does not bring you joy.) If you need more meaning in your life, find a place where you can safely volunteer or give back to your community. (Perhaps there are safe volunteer opportunities through your church, the schools in your city, or at the public library.) If darkness seems to surround you and the sky seems gray, then add more light to your home and perhaps a bit more color to your wardrobe. Real, lasting change is hard! Here is a link to article that might be helpful to you if you choose to make changes in your life.

Lent is a time for transformation. As we have counted the days of Lent, beginning on Ash Wednesday (February 17), we have made intentional changes every single day on our kiva mantle. At first, the changes were small – barely noticeable. As the days moved along, the changes have become more obvious. The spent white candles, leftover from a joyful season gone-by, were replaced with purple candles. The rocks and minerals were moved about daily and exchanged for others from our collection. Finally, the sticks were transformed. The random sticks were lugged out to the garage and prayerfully handled, then cracked, snapped, and then broken apart to be made into something new. The straightest parts of our random sticks were fashioned into a simple cross, secured with twine to hold them securely together.

It is not too late to join us on this transformational journey towards new life. Be open to a whole new look and expect a complete transformation in your heart by Easter!

Prayer for Transformation:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and wisdom to know the difference. Amen.*

*This is what Wikipedia says about this prayer: “The Serenity Prayer is a prayer written by theologian Reinhold Niebuhr (1892–1971). Niebuhr composed the prayer in 1932-33. The prayer spread rapidly, often without attribution to Niebuhr, through church groups in the 1930s and 1940s and was adopted and popularized by Alcoholics Anonymous and other twelve-step programs. Niebuhr used it in a 1943 sermon at Heath Evangelical Union Church in Heath, Massachusetts. It also appeared in a sermon of Niebuhr’s in the 1944 Book of Prayers and Services for the Armed Forces, while Niebuhr first published it in 1951 in a magazine column. Early versions of the prayer are given no title, but by 1955, it was being called the Serenity Prayer in publications of Alcoholics Anonymous.”

What does it mean to offer a sacrifice of praise?

by Rev. Deb Worley

“Praise the Lord!
Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty firmament!
Praise him for his mighty deeds; praise him according to his surpassing greatness!…
Let everything that breathes praise the Lord!
Praise the Lord!”
(Psalm 150:1,2,6)

I’ve had the phrase “sacrifice of praise” stuck in my head for the last few days. I’m not sure where I saw it, or how it got there, but it’s been there, rolling around, forcing me to think about it. What does it mean, to offer a sacrifice of praise? Those two words don’t really seem to go together easily.

Doesn’t offering a sacrifice usually imply some sort of hardship? Doesn’t the idea of making a sacrifice generally include the understanding of doing something that’s not comfortable or easy, but in fact, is inconvenient, difficult, or even painful? And isn’t offering praise, on the other hand, the sharing of something good and encouraging and uplifting, the offering of which usually comes easily and willingly, and even naturally?

So why are we invited to “continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise”? (cf. Hebrews 13:15; emphasis mine).

People are struggling right now. And not just “right now,” but for close to a year. A year. For almost twelve months we have been living with the restrictions imposed by COVID-19–which I do not need to elaborate on; we all know them all too well. Of course, people were struggling before that, too; life was not all rainbows and roses pre-coronavirus.

But the COVID-related restrictions have made everyone’s struggles even greater.

People are struggling. People around the world and across the street. Our neighbors and co-workers, our educators and political leaders, our relatives and friends. You who are reading this, and I who am writing this. We are all struggling. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to hide, nothing to try to deny. I dare say it’s a fact of life in this season through which we are living.

And yet, we, as people of faith, now as always, are invited to praise God….

Suddenly, the idea of offering a sacrifice of praise makes sense. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, there may not be a lot that we want to say to God that is good and encouraging and uplifting. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, offering praise to God may not come easily or willingly or naturally. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, praising God is not necessarily easy or comfortable. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, I dare say that praising God may very well be difficult, or even painful.

And yet, we, as people of faith, now as always, are invited to praise God….

Perhaps it doesn’t come easily. Perhaps it doesn’t feel natural. Perhaps it’s even painful.

But maybe, just maybe, as people of faith, we can dig deep and offer a sacrifice of praise to God–praising God for God’s steadfast love and abiding presence if nothing else–right now, in the midst of these struggles.

Peace be with us all.
Deb

Thank God I Don’t Have a Demon…

by Rev. Deb Worley

“That evening, at sunset, they brought to [Jesus] all who were sick or possessed with demons….And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons….” (Mark 1:32, 34)

When I read passages like this in the Bible, I’m immediately grateful that I don’t have a demon. There are stories where someone has a demon who throws that person into the fire, or onto the ground; there are stories where someone with a demon is mute and another howls and cuts himself. In all of these stories, Jesus casts out the demons and restores their former “hosts” to wholeness; but still–I read them and feel very grateful that I don’t need that kind of healing from Jesus.

I’m especially thankful that I don’t have a demon that throws me into the fire–because this is where I’ve been spending a LOT of time in recent weeks:

But…as I think about it…I realize that there is something within me that can pull me away from wholeness, and forcefully.

There is no demon within me that pushes me to the ground…but there is, sometimes, something within me that does try to push me down–telling me things like I’m not good enough, I’m not capable enough, I don’t know enough….

Similarly, there is no unclean spirit within me that causes me to be mute…but there is, sometimes, something within me that influences me to be silent when I should speak up, that keeps me from speaking what I know to be true when that truth feels too uncomfortable or painful or risky….

As for cutting myself, there is no evil spirit within me that has led me to do that…but I have, at times, listened to something within me that has allowed me to chose to harm myself in other ways–by not addressing unhealthy relationships, for example, or by not listening to my own voice among all those I listen to for wisdom and guidance.

I am more comfortable calling the “something within me” that puts me down, my “inner critic” instead of the voice of a demon, but it is similarly destructive. And while I’m more likely to think of those thoughts that try to silence me as coming from a place of fear and insecurity rather than an “unclean spirit,” couldn’t fear and insecurity be considered something similar?? And the variation on self-harm? Well, the voice within me that persuades me to not value myself appropriately could perhaps be considered an “evil spirit.”

Maybe I do have demons that need to be cast out by Jesus–demons within me that cause me to doubt my goodness and my capabilities, to doubt the truth that I know, to doubt my own wisdom and authority.

Maybe I do need Jesus to cast them out, so that there will be more space for a sense of my belovedness, and so that I can more fully trust God’s goodness and truth and wisdom within me.

Maybe I do need “that kind of healing” from Jesus….

Do you?

Heal us, Jesus!

Amen.