Renovation

As I prayed Lauds this morning, I hovered for some moments over this passage of Psalm 147: "The Lord builds up Jerusalem, and brings back Israel's exiles, he heals the broken-hearted, he binds up all their wounds." 

I just want to give the Lord a shout-out and acknowledge how incredibly efficient, all-knowing, all-wise, all-loving, and how downright sneaky He can be at times with me. There have been many, many times that I have honestly said Lord, I don't understand what you are doing, but never once has it turned out that it hasn't been for my good. Not one single, solitary time. 

Thanks to the advice a friend gave me when I was 19, I have been keeping a spiritual journal for most of my life. Right now I have several physical or virtual means of journaling, and it has become a way I exist rather than one particular object. What this leaves me with is quite a solid and long running record of self awareness. One observation from that Psalm this morning, combined with the Lord's sneakiness, is how long and patiently He has worked with me to heal this broken heart and bind all the wounds. All of them. 

Lately the Lord has been doing a renovation project which got messier and messier, until He just said, "ok, next we're taking down all these partitions. Don't worry; I'm your foundation."

And I'm all... Uh, Lord? Wait a second. Do you see how completely compromised my load bearing walls actually are?

And He's all... Yes. I've known that a long time. And now you do, too. What do you think we've been working on all this time? That work is actually done now.  

And I'm all... Uh, Lord? This doesn't feel in the slightest bit "done." I think I needed that support you just ripped out to keep the whole thing from crashing down. I think the whole thing is going to crash down. 

And He's all.... It would have. But trust the work I've been doing. I'm not wasting your life or playing with you. We're on to the next phase, expansiveness! 

The analogy isn't perfect, but my point is that the Lord has been doing a building work in me that I've only barely understood, even while I have desired it and sought it and cooperated with it. So many things can only be seen and understood in hindsight. This work involves me gathering up my whole life, not just this part over here, that part over there, and the thing I keep in the box in the garage. Everything into one, integrated. Which, paradoxically, comes by way of feeling like everything is absolutely smashed into oblivion. 

It's a bit like waking up from exploratory surgery and getting the report of the dire situation the surgeon discovered and repaired while you were under anesthesia and time ceased to exist to you. Maybe make that analogy one better by entering into it from an accident where you blacked out as it happened, so you wake up never aware surgery was even coming. And then you get the revelation of the problem -- which shocks you and worries you -- until you realize it actually is now a crisis that has been averted and an injury that has been repaired. And you are left with soreness that indicates not something that needs solving, but evidence of the solution being past tense. This is what I mean by God being sneaky. 

For me, my load bearing walls issue has been past trauma. I'm soon coming up on a year since I started working with a therapist to address what I figured were a few troublesome spots, and, well, a kinda rough childhood, that were impacting my current life. And thanks to my decision to be trained as a spiritual director, I realized I owed myself this work in order to have the needed levels of interior integration. Again, God is so sneaky. 

I actually came to a point where I felt so healed that I figured I was completely done. (Oh wait. The work was done? Really?) And then the Lord ripped out my structural support. Foul language rose to my lips. A lot of it. Because only then could I see how much devastation the Lord had actually replaced. And like someone getting the surgery report in post-op, my timeline got terribly confused and I relived every last bit of the devastation as if it were still happening in real time. That's what trauma does to you. And so while the Lord was trying to talk with me about future developments, all I could do is look at the wreckage and say that is my life.  

No, child, that was your life. For a long time, that was your life. Truth is, I've installed an entirely new support system, and now, living stone, you will have a secure dwelling.

I really came here to write about the second reading from the Office of Readings from today. It's from St. Gregory the Great, who wrote without a modern understanding of psychology, but with perhaps a less tainted understanding of the human person, and how love of God and love of neighbor is by necessity predicated on proper love of self. He says of the man ruled by the love of God, "The prizes he covets lie within; outward blessings do not elate him. His conduct is blameless, for he cannot do wrong in devoting himself entirely to love of God and his neighbor. He is not ambitious. The welfare of his own soul is what he cares about. Apart from that he seeks nothing. He is not selfish...." (italics mine). 

I can't tell you how long I have subliminally nursed practices that proclaimed that caring about the welfare of my soul, of my inner self, is the epitome of selfishness. If it weren't -- well -- surely those closest to me in childhood would have cared about the welfare of my soul! And therein lies the rub. In imitating the (lack of) care and formation I received, I perpetuated a load bearing capacity that was destined to make everything crash down.  

And now the Lord says, believe what I say, and receive it. Live in love, and begin with yourself by allowing Me to fill every last nook and cranny like I want to. 

Of Love and Needs and Clashing

This morning as I sat down to pray, I had one of those instantaneous downloads that crystalized for me exactly where I'm at in my interior journey. And that was this: I have had a severe, life-long disconnect between the notion of "I love you," and "I will meet your needs."

I felt a blaze of wrath of the Holy Spirit, not against me but on my behalf, against this disconnect. And I finally saw, on a human level, how being made in the image and likeness of God naturally makes us expect a connection between love and needs being met. 

And I realized I have never once presumed my needs being met to be something I was within my rights to expect, or even really to conceptualize. It's not like I've debated it in my head you should be meeting my needs, and you're failing. It's that it had never occurred to me concretely that it would apply to me, or really that it applies to anyone. To be honest, it has been hard for me to even articulate that I have needs. I have stories I've told in spiritual direction several times, once as a teen, once as an adult, where I was terribly hungry or thirsty, but denied it as a reflex, even though I was physically suffering and the remedy was literally in front of me.

And this makes sense out of so much of my life right now. 

I believe that because of the dependent nature of babies, we are born taking in the care we are given as the definition of "I love you," regardless of what that is. For me, somehow my sense of what it means to be in a cared-for relationship taught me that if I take in "I love you," it means I have just become the caretaker. Someone telling me "I love you" really translated into "I am dependent on you, and I'm weak, and I really can't do much for you at all." What a confusing message for a helpless child to take in. Because of course, care was given. Basic needs were met. Survival happened. And it all taught my brain that exactly food in the mouth and breath in the lungs was all life was truly about. Everything else was too much to ask. That which makes for human dignity is rightly kicked to the curb, locked out to whimper at the back door until it slinks away under the house in depression and neglect. And maybe, come to think of it, food in the mouth and breath in the lungs, under duress, really should end up in the "too much to ask" category. Because if my dignity can be booted, maybe survival deserves the same treatment. Probably so. And yes, I spent my later teenage years struggling hard with suicidal ideation. Under great duress, it still pops back up.

I chose to be a Christian already as a child. And my first responsive prayer to the Lord's call to me was, "I will go and be a missionary." That is, I know you are dependent on me to do for you what you need, and I will do it. Because I hear that you love me. And this is how I say "I love you" in response.  

We all start our inner journey where we are. And so this starting point for me is not surprising. But to be transformed in Christ is to grow out of where I was, into truth. And He is so patient with me, and knows how to grow virtue in the graced soil of my soul that still has rocks and weeds to be removed. He knows exactly how to lead me. Even when it scares the bejeebers out of me.

Jesus tells us we are to love our neighbor as we love ourselves, and that we are to love one another as He has loved us. I think there's some geometric proof here that would say we therefore must learn to love ourselves as God loves us. Because here's the thing. As I have lived both in grace and in the fallout of this total disconnect between "I love you" and "I will meet your needs," I have learned that I should ignore my own needs at the expense of (genuinely) coming to the support of other people. And I have learned that God (genuinely) wants me to serve other people, but expecting him to act on my account is selfish. That love, i.e. living in the image of God, means to be the caretaker of the world, while my human dignity is locked outside, whimpering for attention until it slinks under the porch in depression and neglect.

And God says no. The way I love you entails meeting your needs. Look around you. You've made it a little difficult at times because of the ways you have reflexively chosen things, but look at how I have taken care of your needs, even when I had to slide things in sideways and keep secrets from you so I wouldn't scare you away. Now imagine what could be if you trust me more. Imagine what could be if you worked with me in this instead of against me. Imagine what could be if we were both pulling in the same direction, and you learned to honor your needs, own your needs, even insist on your needs the way I do. Your dignity is non-negotiable -- remember when I told you that? This is what I was driving at. You are making great progress, but it is time for you to really throw out the old and throw yourself into the new. 

This is where I am at. Part of the flourishing of human (and Christian) community happens precisely when the needs of those in close proximity to each other clash. I learned to silence my clash instead of raise it. It's time to choose otherwise.