Make it plain.
“May all your expectations be frustrated, may all your plans be thwarted, may all your desires be withered into nothingness, that you may experience the powerlessness and poverty of a child and sing and dance in the love of God who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.”
Brennan Manning’s spiritual director, Larry Hein, often blessed him with this “blessing.” I have never understood it and didn’t like it until recently. Brennan Manning's writings have deeply impacted Charlotte and me. We named our firstborn son after him because he profoundly shaped our understanding of God's love. I can still hear his voice exclaiming, “Don’t you realise? The Gospel! It’s a love affair!”
When Larry’s blessing would appear in Brennan’s books or in the recordings of retreats he had given, I would smile and nod, but internally, I had no clue. I didn’t want my expectations to be frustrated. I wanted the plans I had for my life to thrive. Desires withered….to nothingness? Are you crazy? Who is this spiritual director, and why are you allowing him to bless you, Brennan? Is this even a blessing? Yes. Yes, it is. Here is the pathway through a narrow gate leading you into the foothills of Life in the Beatitudes. Powerlessness and poverty: blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of God. To be a child? Yes, this is how we receive such a kingdom.
Since we moved to Greenwood, I have sought words to describe the vision of the Way of the Beloved. This is the ministry that we are called to establish here that will shape our life together. I have written reams and reams about it. My long-suffering friends have received drafts and re-drafts of this vision. After seeing only a summary statement of the vision, those closest to me have commented that it's a “wee bit wordy.” They are correct. Wee Bit Wordy; that should be my new nickname! I find it challenging to try and succinctly say what the vision is. One of two things invariably happens. I either end up waxing eloquently about the idea that it sounds downright pompous. Or, when trying to reduce it to the simple core idea, it develops the insipid taste of a flat Coke. It’s two-dimensional and blah.
While we have been trying to find the words for the vision statement, the Vision has been in our midst this whole time. For instance, a woman married to a parish minister came to Greenwood tired of all the ministry demands upon her and her family. She sensed Jesus sitting beside her after Holy Communion in the Dwelling Place, our little chapel on-site.
"Will you let me be your shepherd? he asked.
“Yes, that is all I have ever wanted, Lord,” she replied. He then motioned to take her hand, and she felt it clasped by his.
Or the creative artist who attended last year’s Seer School. During a late-night vigil in the chapel, he prayed and gazed at the icon of Jesus and John the Beloved. He described the sensation of the image fading to reveal a greater reality. There was Jesus. When this young adult saw Jesus looking at him, Jesus smiled at him. In this smile, the love of God came pouring into this student, unravelling him completely. Or the Church of Scotland minister who came to stay on a personal retreat. He described smelling a beautiful fragrance in his cottage. He thought it was just an air freshener or a cleaning agent. However, when he went for a walk on the land, the smell continued to be with him. The fragrance, waxing and waning in intensity, stayed with him for the first day of his retreat. The fact that he didn’t smell it again for the remaining days at Greenwood brought comfort as it confirmed that this delicate scent was from a holy source. Or, the three friends out walking in the woods, just down from St Columba’s well, in early December. They describe hearing beautiful music above and all around them. It sounded like sustained chords from a choir or a synthesiser. The sounds faded away, leaving them wide-eyed, laughing like big kids.
These testimonies are so encouraging. As I savour and enjoy them, I return to the truth in Larry Hein’s blessing. They all share one thing: God himself was at work in each. We simply made space for God to be God and asked him to fill this place with his presence. We had no agenda, no grand plan, just space.
It is a terrifying prospect to realise that you can be caught up, busy with a vision for God and miss God completely. The Scottish poet Edwin Muir has a haunting line in one of his poems describing one particular church: “The Word made flesh here is made word again.” We can pontificate about the Word with all our isms, ologies, projects, and plans. Like the church in Ephesus in the Book of Revelation, we can forget our first love. God deliver us.
Over the last year, Charlotte and I have experienced the heat of the refiner's fire. We know now what it is for “expectations to be frustrated, plans thwarted, and desires to wither.” Will we learn to dance and sing like children in this place? We are starting to, especially when we pay attention to the risen One, who brings fragrance, joy, and shepherdly care.
Throughout all these early years of envisioning what the Way of the Beloved is about, I see a recurring picture in prayer. A wizened woodworker is working away in his woodshed (that sentence sounds straight out of a Dr. Seuss book!) There is a piece of wood held fast in a vice. The old carpenter looks fatherly and wise. No words are ever spoken. I watch him at work. He repeatedly runs a plane over the wood, forming a perfect curve. Less is more. It looks like the curved line in a Celtic triquetra and reminds me of the gunnel in a boat. It’s streamlined, and it flows. Recently, as I entered the image, I felt the effects of this plane inside me. I know that must sound strange. But it was somatic. I felt it, and it feels like I am being changed internally as I watch this craftsman at this stage in the creative process. It's a good and holy happening.
I understand the meaning: We are to make the vision plain. It’s all about Jesus. It’s all about bringing people to Jesus. He is the Way. He is the Beloved. He is not a mere example that we must emulate; we are not to try our best to bring about a vision for ministry. Instead, we are called to abide in him, and he abides in us. The Christian receives their belovedness in Jesus.
The Way of the Beloved is the way of the cross. As I watch the curled shaving of wood fall to the woodworker’s shed floor, there is a call to die daily to self. Old visions must be ripped up and let go of. The map is not the territory. Empty words alone will not cut it. O’ Living Word, dwell in us!
Jesus, he and he alone is our all in all. In this pioneering work, we are to remain light and nimble, ever learning of Him and his easy yoke. As we abide in him, we will learn to see and do what the Father is doing. O’ Lord, what might you do in a space set aside for you to come and be all that you are and have promised to do? Come, Lord. Make your home in your church.