“Be still, and know that I am God." --Psalm 46:10a
(I am fairly certain my choice verse here is a re-run. Maybe that means it is a message we all need to hear-- again.)
I have been running into Brother Lawrence a lot lately, and George MacLeod.
Brother Lawrence was a monk who never progressed beyond the rank of chief cook and bottle washer, and was all right with that. He is best remembered in a petite book called The Practice of the Presence of God.
Brother Lawrence found contentment and peace, the very presence of the Almighty, while peeling potatoes and scrubbing pots. He slipped away from the busy-ness of life and rested in the Divine embrace-- doing dishes.
And George MacLeod (1895-1991) is a more contemporary mystic out of the Church of Scotland, who founded the Iona Community. He has written much poetry, many short essays devoted to conversation about the sacrament of the present moment.
Both of these men have been turning up in various readings the past several days. And both of these men are guiding me to a place of slowing down.
So stop for a moment, and think about this: Now is all we've got. We are not guaranteed tomorrow, or next week, or next year. Every moment is a gift from God, and God is in every moment we are given.
George MacLeod suggests that we needn't worry about getting in touch with God, because God is always in touch with us, in every aspect of the lives we lead.
So this morning-- I took the challenge. And I invite you to go for it, as well.
When you pick up the scrubbie or the sponge, let your senses open to the experience.
Feel the warmth of the dishwater on your hands. Listen to the scratch-scratch-scratch as you work at getting last night's pasta sauce off the bottom of the pot. Don't overwork it-- it will come off. Allow yourself to enter the moment.
Breathe in the mixed scents of garlic, marinara and lavender dish soap. (I never said it would all be pleasant.)
One of my favorite passages from Rob Bell's first book, Velvet Elvis, was when he pointed out that no one ever went up to Jesus and asked, "So-- how's your spiritual life, Son of God?" No one ever asked that because for Jesus, all life is spiritual. There was no false dichotomy between things of God and things of man. All things, all people, all experiences are of God.
See, here's the deal:
When God invites us to be still, I don't think that necessarily means to do nothing. Stillness means allowing God to settle within our souls, even when our hands are still busy. Sometimes, for some people, stillness comes especially when our hands are busy. I have a friend who cannot give full attention unless her hands are busy. So during church meetings, she will fold origami or cut scherenschnitte.
For Brother Lawrence, stillness came while peeling potatoes and scrubbing pots.
Try it.
If it makes you feel better-- send the rest of the family away while you seek to find the sacrament of the now. It just might give you a new outlook on those mundane chores you really dislike doing, if you think about finding time with God amongst the laundry that needs folding or the potatoes to scrub for dinner.
And there are always opportunities to practice, even if you never feel you will get it right. God is not scoring you. God is simply enjoying the attention.
Heavenly One, help us to seek your presence, not in eternity or the next life, but in each moment, every day we have here, in this place, with you. Amen.
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Want to know more?
Brother Lawrence. The Practice of the Presence of God. Whitaker House, 1944.
Bell, Rob. Velvet Elvis: Repainting the Christian Faith. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2006.
MacLeod, George. Daily Readings with George MacLeod. Ron Ferguson, ed. Glasgow: Wild Goose Publications, 1991.
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