I’ve recently been challenged by a question posed in Goodreads.
‘What mystery in your own life could be a plot for a book?’
This got me reflecting on my life’s journey. Sure, like all
of us, I have a life story. Some parts of it may be inspiring, touching, even amazing.
There have been mysteries, problems to be solved, challenges to overcome. No doubt some parts of my life, if not the
whole story, are worth telling, and could even make a good book. But as I
thought about this, it seemed to me that the greatest mystery in my life is my
inner journey; why I make the decisions I do, why I act and interact with
others in certain ways, why I repeat certain unhelpful patterns of behaviour. At nearly 70 I’m surprised at how often I still wonder why I did or said
something, why I reacted in a certain way. Shouldn’t I know myself really well
by now? Shouldn’t I be fully formed, stable, predictable? At least to myself?
Shouldn’t the rough edges be smoothed out by now? Shouldn’t I have found the
wisdom I need to decide and respond well?
Clearly not, because I’m still a mystery, to myself often and no doubt,
to others at least sometimes.
Last week I read Ian Acheson’s ACW blog – a great review of
Christine Painter’s book, The Soul of a Pilgrim, which I encourage you to read,
and which was a good reminder to me that we are never fully formed this side of
heaven, that our life’s journey is a pilgrimage with God, ever changing,
growing, becoming. Of course, deep down I’ve known this for a long time, but
needed reminding. I was particularly taken by a line in the Blurb for the book.
“Painter identifies 8 stages of the
pilgrim’s way and shows how to follow these steps to make an intentional,
transformative journey to the reader’s “wild edges.” I loved that image and it took me on a short
journey through some similar lines I’ve recently read.
The Introduction to the Soul of a Pilgrim begins with a
quote from Mark Nepo from his book, The Exquisite Risk: “To journey without being changed is to be a nomad. To change without
journeying is to be a chameleon. To journey and to be transformed by the
journey is to be a pilgrim.” What a great challenge and also a warning for
me. I mustn’t cease to be a pilgrim!
This led me to another of Nepo’s books, Seven Thousand Ways
to Listen. Nepo, on learning that there
were seven thousand living languages on earth (and these are only the ones we
know of), suggested there must, therefore, be at least seven thousand ways to
listen. “To enter into deep listening,
I’ve had to learn how to keep emptying and opening, how to keep beginning. I’ve
had to lean into all I don’t understand, accepting that I am changed by what I
hear. Listening is a personal pilgrimage that takes time and a willingness to
circle back. With each trouble that stalls us and each wonder that lifts us, we
are asked to put down our conclusions and feel and think anew. Unpredictable as
life itself is, the practice of listening is one of the mysterious, luminous
and challenging art forms on earth. …
This is the work of reverence: to stay vital and alive by listening deeply.”
This listening, paying attention to what is happening deep
within us, where God’s voice is quiet but most enlightening, is what Marjorie
Thompson, in Soul Feast: An Invitation to the Christian Spiritual Life, calls
an act of worship. “Worship ushers us
into the present of the living God and demands the attention, receptivity, and
response of our whole being. It asks us to disengage from the nose-length focus
of daily life and see below the surface to life’s source. We can then reengage
the realities of the world from a deeper and clearer perspective.”
I’ve also been dipping into Curt Thompson’s, ‘Anatomy of the
Soul,’ in which the author explores the ways in which we impede the blessings
of God by struggling to believe that God loves us much as He claims in
scripture, that He delights in us, treasures us, that He wants to live deeply
with us, moment by moment. What a mystery is that? How can that be? That Almighty God, creator of the universe,
could love us so. Thompson invites us to sit with God until we can feel God’s feeling about us. Not just believe it, but feel it. Now, there’s a journey
worth taking.
All of these writers encourage paying attention to our inner
journey as much – perhaps more – than the outer journey, returning to what really
matters throughout the day, naming what is meaningful, noting the changes, or
possible changes that can come from our experiences, from ageing, from
surviving loss, from words, written or spoken, which come from others, from
scripture and from our deep moments with God.
I’ve been reminded in all of this that the deepest mystery
in my life is the wonder of being chosen by God to be His child, to walk
through my life with Him. I’ve remembered how often the first thing that comes
to my mind when I stop and make space and time for God, is : “How can this be,
that You have loved me, saved me, want to share my life, invite me to share
life with you?” It is also a mystery to
me why I let this amazing truth and grace fade into the background and allow
busyness, distractions (even good ones) to dim my excitement and gratitude for
God’s love.
I’m thankful to the writers who prompt me to reflect on my
inner life; both fiction and non-fiction writers. While I enjoy a good novel to
escape into, a good plot and a moving story about someone else’s life, I know I need to balance my reading with writings
which will challenge my inner life and prompt me to delve deeply into the
mystery of God’s love for me, which is the source and underpinning of all my
living.
Carol
Carol writes historical novels based on her family ancestry
in Australia from the First Fleet. They include the Turning the Tide series;
Mary’s Guardian, Charlotte’s Angel, Tangled Secrets and Truly Free. Two of her
earlier novels, Suzannah’s Gold and Rebecca’s Dream, were re-released by EBP. Next of Kin was released in 2015 by Rhiza
Press and the sequel, Beyond the Fight, was released in 2016. You can see more
about Carol and her novels on her website, her Amazon author page or FB author
page.
