Monday, January 23, 2006 at 2:02am
Out of spousal abuse, the question: who listens when we pray?
Column: Writing Down Your Soul
On November 1, 1996, I woke up knowing I was afraid of my husband. I had no idea what to do with that feeling, so I opened a journal, and wrote "Dear God,..." With those two words, I began a five year dialogue with Spirit. Not a day went by when I didn't unload my sorrows. I begged God for help and help was provided. I asked hard questions and received hard answers. I didn't always like what I heard, but I knew I was connected and that connection was saving my life.
Three years into my spiritual practice, I picked up my journal one morning, and a church bulletin fluttered to the floor. I leaned down to pick it up and noticed that I'd circled in red, a class called Effectual Prayer. I'd read dozens of books on prayer and enjoyed each one, but Effectual Prayer by Frances Foulks was far and away my favorite. The classes were starting that night.
The first topic was "Who is God?" I had to laugh. I'd written sacred prayer journals for three years and never asked that question. I just talked to God — whomever or whatever God was — like we were best buds. I had shared three years of heartaches with God. I had told God what was happening, and what I thought God ought to do about it. I had turned hopeless financial situations over to God, and watched God provide. I had felt God writing through me. I had been awakened in the middle of the night by this God. I had shouted at God, laughed with God, and thanked God profusely for my many blessings. I had asked God who I was, but I had never asked God who God was!
Who is God? Most people can't answer this question. Go ahead; see what happens when you ask. People look at you strangely. Then, they stumble around with a few adjectives. It's a rare person who has thought about this question and can share a description or definition. But, if you are going to pray to this entity, if you are going to turn your whole life over to it, it makes sense to consider to whom or what you are praying!
A good place to start is what God is not. That's how the teacher started. He wrote what God is not on the board:
*God is not distant. God is not in some far away place looking down at us.
*God is not anthropomorphic. God is not a big guy with all the not-so-hot attributes of some big scary guys. God is not a bully. God doesn't have human emotions. God doesn't get angry or annoyed or peeved. (Whew!)
*God is not uncaring. God is not some neutral, un-present, un-loving entity who coldly watches our fiascoes here on earth.
Next, he wrote the fundamental truths on which all religions agree:
*God made it all
*God does good work
Didn't seem like much: just two consensus points across Judaism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, and a few hundred other spiritual traditions. But these two statements cover a lot of ground. If God made it all and God only does good work, that tells us a lot about ourselves, about life, about God, and about our relationship with God.
I decided to dump the problem on God. This may seem like a cop out, but I figured who would know more about God than God? This is my journal entry:
Dear God, last night my teacher told us something about God. But, it seems to me the right thing, the easy thing is to ask you. You are the "person" I talk to. You are the "something" I seek. You are the reason I'm praying. So, who are you? What are you? To whom am I talking?
And the answer came. Well, sort of an answer. I don't think our human brains can get there in words or even pictures. My brain can't, anyway. I think the closest we come are the exquisite feelings stirred up by art, music, poetry, and emotion. So, perhaps the right question isn't, "What is God," but "Where is God?"
I find a little bit of God in a Van Gogh, Chagall, or aboriginal art. I hear the sound of God in Mozart, Puccini, and Eric Clapton. I swear a hint of God's voice lives in Aretha, Placido Domingo, Billie Holiday, and, of course, Elvis. It shimmers in jazz saxophone, Celtic bagpipes, and Spanish guitar. Listen to Vladimir Horowitz in Moscow and tell me you don't hear God.
I see a flicker of God's image when Baryshnikov, Fred and Ginger, or Simeon Glover movie. I smell the shadow of God in babies' skin. I recognize it stroking Irish linen, Mongolian cashmere, and Peruvian cotton. I feel it in my son's sweet hug. I taste it in the first pesto of summer, dry French champagne, and dark glorious Belgian chocolate.
I sense God's presence in Japanese woodcuts and Chinese calligraphy. I witness it in winter's first snow fall, October's leaves, and April's tulips. I hear a slice of God's ideas in Shakespeare, Emily Dickenson, and Alice Hoffman. And when I try to follow Robin Williams, I believe I am given a tiny flash of the mysterious mind of God. (You got a better explanation?)
Einstein said, "I want to know the thoughts of God." Einstein got a lot closer than I am, but I want to know God, too. And I can. In a smaller way, perhaps. In my way. I also get to turn and say, "Oh, there You are!" And so do you.
In the end the definition doesn't matter. The exercise of trying to define God simply gives us one more opportunity to connect with the God we are trying to define. If the definition isn't possible, the connection is. In the end this effort of words becomes a transcendental experience independent of words. In the end it's about the love, not the entity that loves.
And isn't that delightful.
— — —
Janet Conner, S.E. (Spiritual Explorer), is an expert on the power of practical spirituality to heal your broken heart and transform your world. She is the cartographer of the map of spiritual healing and author of the seven travel guides in the Spiritual Geographyseries. In addition to divine dialogue, she welcomes human conversation at {email janetconner@tampabay.rr.com}janetconner@tampabay.rr.com{/email}. © copyright 2006 by Janet Conner.
— — —
UPI Religion & Spirituality Forum is a big tent for all expressions
of faith and spirituality, neither excluding nor favoring any.
All opinions expressed belong to the writer alone, and are
not necessarily shared by UPI Religion & Spirituality Forum.
Three years into my spiritual practice, I picked up my journal one morning, and a church bulletin fluttered to the floor. I leaned down to pick it up and noticed that I'd circled in red, a class called Effectual Prayer. I'd read dozens of books on prayer and enjoyed each one, but Effectual Prayer by Frances Foulks was far and away my favorite. The classes were starting that night.
The first topic was "Who is God?" I had to laugh. I'd written sacred prayer journals for three years and never asked that question. I just talked to God — whomever or whatever God was — like we were best buds. I had shared three years of heartaches with God. I had told God what was happening, and what I thought God ought to do about it. I had turned hopeless financial situations over to God, and watched God provide. I had felt God writing through me. I had been awakened in the middle of the night by this God. I had shouted at God, laughed with God, and thanked God profusely for my many blessings. I had asked God who I was, but I had never asked God who God was!
Who is God? Most people can't answer this question. Go ahead; see what happens when you ask. People look at you strangely. Then, they stumble around with a few adjectives. It's a rare person who has thought about this question and can share a description or definition. But, if you are going to pray to this entity, if you are going to turn your whole life over to it, it makes sense to consider to whom or what you are praying!
A good place to start is what God is not. That's how the teacher started. He wrote what God is not on the board:
*God is not distant. God is not in some far away place looking down at us.
*God is not anthropomorphic. God is not a big guy with all the not-so-hot attributes of some big scary guys. God is not a bully. God doesn't have human emotions. God doesn't get angry or annoyed or peeved. (Whew!)
*God is not uncaring. God is not some neutral, un-present, un-loving entity who coldly watches our fiascoes here on earth.
Next, he wrote the fundamental truths on which all religions agree:
*God made it all
*God does good work
Didn't seem like much: just two consensus points across Judaism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, and a few hundred other spiritual traditions. But these two statements cover a lot of ground. If God made it all and God only does good work, that tells us a lot about ourselves, about life, about God, and about our relationship with God.
I decided to dump the problem on God. This may seem like a cop out, but I figured who would know more about God than God? This is my journal entry:
Dear God, last night my teacher told us something about God. But, it seems to me the right thing, the easy thing is to ask you. You are the "person" I talk to. You are the "something" I seek. You are the reason I'm praying. So, who are you? What are you? To whom am I talking?
And the answer came. Well, sort of an answer. I don't think our human brains can get there in words or even pictures. My brain can't, anyway. I think the closest we come are the exquisite feelings stirred up by art, music, poetry, and emotion. So, perhaps the right question isn't, "What is God," but "Where is God?"
I find a little bit of God in a Van Gogh, Chagall, or aboriginal art. I hear the sound of God in Mozart, Puccini, and Eric Clapton. I swear a hint of God's voice lives in Aretha, Placido Domingo, Billie Holiday, and, of course, Elvis. It shimmers in jazz saxophone, Celtic bagpipes, and Spanish guitar. Listen to Vladimir Horowitz in Moscow and tell me you don't hear God.
I see a flicker of God's image when Baryshnikov, Fred and Ginger, or Simeon Glover movie. I smell the shadow of God in babies' skin. I recognize it stroking Irish linen, Mongolian cashmere, and Peruvian cotton. I feel it in my son's sweet hug. I taste it in the first pesto of summer, dry French champagne, and dark glorious Belgian chocolate.
I sense God's presence in Japanese woodcuts and Chinese calligraphy. I witness it in winter's first snow fall, October's leaves, and April's tulips. I hear a slice of God's ideas in Shakespeare, Emily Dickenson, and Alice Hoffman. And when I try to follow Robin Williams, I believe I am given a tiny flash of the mysterious mind of God. (You got a better explanation?)
Einstein said, "I want to know the thoughts of God." Einstein got a lot closer than I am, but I want to know God, too. And I can. In a smaller way, perhaps. In my way. I also get to turn and say, "Oh, there You are!" And so do you.
In the end the definition doesn't matter. The exercise of trying to define God simply gives us one more opportunity to connect with the God we are trying to define. If the definition isn't possible, the connection is. In the end this effort of words becomes a transcendental experience independent of words. In the end it's about the love, not the entity that loves.
And isn't that delightful.
— — —
Janet Conner, S.E. (Spiritual Explorer), is an expert on the power of practical spirituality to heal your broken heart and transform your world. She is the cartographer of the map of spiritual healing and author of the seven travel guides in the Spiritual Geographyseries. In addition to divine dialogue, she welcomes human conversation at {email janetconner@tampabay.rr.com}janetconner@tampabay.rr.com{/email}. © copyright 2006 by Janet Conner.
UPI Religion & Spirituality Forum is a big tent for all expressions
of faith and spirituality, neither excluding nor favoring any.
All opinions expressed belong to the writer alone, and are
not necessarily shared by UPI Religion & Spirituality Forum.