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.