Cracked Pot

Just in case anyone actually reads this, I want to be sure I have not come across as someone who spiritually has it together.  Believe me, I do not.  I am a poor pilgrim who moves from day to day by the grace of God. I have come to understand that spirituality does not consist in what you know, but rather by who you know.  As long as I think I know something, the grace of God has no foothold.  When I throw up my arms in surrender, the door is open for grace to come in and reside.  The more I practice, the less I know and the less sure I am of the things I thought I knew.  This may seem like a shaky position to be in.  And at times, it is uncomfortable.  And yet, unless I am emptied of myself, how can God ever fill me with His treasure.  The spiritual life is a life of paradox.  If you want to be filled, you must empty yourself.  If you want to be found, then lose yourself.  If you want to live, you must die to self.  If we are willing to submit ourselves to God, he will begin separating the wheat from the chaff in us.  He will form us into what he purposed for us when he created us.  Is it painful? Yes, but He is there to carry that burden with us.  When I am weak, His grace is abundant.  When I am strong, I am just a cracked pot.

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body.

Prayer Support

I was reminded again the other night about the importance of a support group for a Centering Prayer Practice.  Within a few months of starting my practice, I began looking for a group in my area with which to associate.  Through Contemplative Outreach I found and contacted the group leader and attempted to attend a meeting.  However, I arrived late and got spooked and did not try to attend again for about 1 1/2 years.  It did not help that the church where the group met was much different than what I was used to.   Nonetheless,  I started attending about a year ago and the time spent with those people is very special.  

As you probably already know, the contemplative path is marked with landmarks.  Some are clearly recognizable, and others are not as evident.  A group, with people at different stages on the path, is able to give encouragement and support when things become murky and even difficult. The contemplative life is not a sprint, but an ultra-marathon.  That is not to say that it is all drudgery.  I often catch a second wind which propels me on to the next milestone. It is a great encouragement to be in the race with others who spur me on when I am spent and want to stop.  In turn, hopefully, I can do the same for them.  The other night was one of those nights when I received great encouragement from the group. I have grown to really love those people, and you know what?  We never talk about the differences in our beliefs.  It just never comes up. 

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us,  fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.