It was a busy morning, and I was packing the boys’ lunches–getting everything ready for school.
That’s when Jeffrey, 10, rushed by the back door–heading toward the kitchen. Suddenly, he stopped.
“Wow. Have you seen the moon this morning?”
We were going to be late.
But I couldn’t help myself. I paused what I was doing and joined him in front of the window. And there it was, my full faced moon-friend, hanging low in the misty dark of the pre-dawn. I moved behind my boy and wrapped my arms around his ever-growing body.
And. We. Just. Looked.
“It’s glowing,” he said.
“The fog diffuses the light,” I said, distracted.
“That is so cool.”
His voice was an awed whisper. I kissed the top of his head.
And everything slowed down after that.
Have you felt it? The Power of the Slowing?
That’s the title of chapter two in Gerald May’s The Wisdom of the Wilderness. He describes the sensation:
I relax again as I drive on into the mountain forest’s arms, feeling an encircling warmth, more, more. The closer I get to the State Forest, the stronger the welcoming becomes. I feel it like a caress, and I sense myself responding to it, wanting to gently enter gentleness, desiring to be as hospitable to the wilderness as it is to me…
May goes on to say that he doesn’t understand this feeling, compelling as it is. All that he understands is that he has been slowed down.
He is talking about more than a moment of quiet stillness gazing at the moon.
What May calls the Power of the Slowing seems to me to be a deliberate effort to be still and know God. A deliberate slowing down, quieting the mind. But in May’s experience, this slowing is not of his own doing. He is slowed by a Power. And it is in this slowing that May comes face to face with the Divine. Something he had yearned for all his life.
Before the encounter with the Power of the Slowing I had had many experiences of what I would call Divine Presence, but they were always indirect, what the theologians call mediated. I felt the Great Mystery through the birth of my children, through the love of my wife and family and friends, through the beauty of sunsets and music. I sensed grace abounding in people: in their healing, growing, choosing love, finding their ways…all these experiences were evidences of the Divine Presence, signs of grace, results of God’s goodness, all once removed from their Source…My cup overflowed with mediated experience, yet I thirsted for the immediate.
These words caused me to ponder. Simply because the experiences May mentions are the very ones in which I have felt the Power of God with acute profundity. What May refers to as mediated, I have felt as immediate. There have been times when I am praying with my children that I am sure I feel the breath of God on my cheek. These moments are filled with God’s palpable presence. I did not go on a spiritual journey or enter into a deep meditative state to feel this amazing Presence. God draws us to Him in many ways. Sometimes He reveals Himself to us no matter what we do. He desires deep, intimate moments with each of us.
This is what May finds in the wilderness that day: unique, direct, intimate experience with God. And his longing was fulfilled.
Food for thought:
*What is your experience with mediated versus immediate encounters with the Divine?
*What do you think about experiential faith–that is, a faith that seeks out and maybe even depends on feeling these kinds of direct encounters with God?
*What has your wilderness been speaking to you this week?
Next Week: Chapter three, Night Fear.
Photo by nAncY, used with permission. Post by Laura Boggess
OTHER BOOK CLUB POSTS:
LL’s He Dared to Call it She and Drift Me
Monica’s Pacing
Liz’s The Power of the Slowing
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I think I understand what May means. Something like Paul’s “we see through a glass…”
I find it fascinating that May finally felt a more immediate sense of God when he went into the Wilderness. Would everyone feel that? I’m guessing not; there have been times when I have felt God keenly through His Creation and there have been times when I have felt more alone than ever, a profound emptiness in nature… like I landed in God’s house and he had taken a long vacation elsewhere and all I could feel were the cold stones of his courtyard, abandoned, echoing.
First, I have to say that May was a lot more tolerant of the bugs and yellow jackets than I would’ve been.
I was troubled by his description of the power as a “she.” After I considered it for a while, I decided that it was what he had experienced and I needed to let him tell his story in his way. In other words, I had to get over it.
The times I’ve spent in wilderness-type settings, I’ve felt less a “power” and more of a quiet that I don’t find elsewhere. It’s as if all the distractions of life are no longer there, and you become one with the stillness.
I’ve been through a couple of real rough patches of “wilderness”, once without benefit of faith, another time with a lot of faith, if not a lot of answers to my questions. It was only in the quiet of the night, after a day of noise not of my making, that something not of the physical world gave me reason to hold on, to understand that the holding on is its own kind of answer.
Glynn, I feel like a sexist pig, but the “she” pronoun bothered me too. Then I started thinking that it made sense if we consider that he is personifying “Mother Nature.” Still, for me the book is helpful in reminding me how to remember the creator by encountering the creation. And that is something that I can get really excited about.
Maureen, I’m sorry to hear that you’ve had such patches of wilderness lately. Those times are always painful.
As for me, this book reminds me of our organization’s theology of place. The staff of thehighcalling.org and Laity Lodge and the Foundations for Laity Renewal wrote about this in the summer 2005 newsletter. If you’re interested, you can read that issue here.
i feel it often as my life speeds before me the slowing taps me on the shoulder and reminds me just who is in control …i feel that photography also helps with the slowing of the rhythms of any given moment…the slowing, thank you to your sweet son for reminding us of it….elk
I had the same thoughts—that I was the opposite of May in what he considered mediated and immediate.
L.L.–I agree, there have been times when I have felt that absence in nature too…but more, I have been acutely aware of His presence in other, very different, circumstances too (like the busy streets of NYC). I think the key is that slowing–listening and seeking.
Glynn–LOL! I don’t think I would see the sting of a yellow jacket as the hand of God touching me either! I was a bit uncomfortable with some of the undertones of what May had to say, too. I like the way you frame it here, though. Let him tell his story.
Maureen–I understand what you are saying. Nancy commented about these kind of “wildernesses” in our first post. I have been trying to reconcile May’s wilderness with the wilderness experiences we see in the Bible. What I have come up with so far is that both experiences lead to a dependence on God…a deliberate turning of the heart toward Him.
Marcus–I’m taking a similar approach: “the book is helpful in reminding me how to remember the creator by encountering the creation”. This is where I am. And thanks for sharing Laity’s theology of place. Wonderful!
ELK–I love your comment about feeling Him in your photography. This goes back to that thought that nature is not the only way to encounter God. Thank you for sharing this insight.
We’ve been out enjoying Creation today, with a day trip to one of our State Parks. I feel so rejuvenated by all we experienced! But that’s another post…
Here’s something I’ve wondered about….
why are we so afraid of “she”? We are, I think. Even me, and I’m the one asking the question.
And if we are so afraid of “she” and if many of us experience nature as “she,” is this partly why many people are willing to abuse her, Nature?
it is interesting to me, laura, that your child brought your attention to what he saw, and you were able to join him in this. i the text, may, spoke of feeling connected with everything around him when he was a very small child. then we went on to list those things, which were all outside, trees, sky, sun, and all of nature. it makes me think that it has something to do with being a child, more than being in the woods or the wilderness. i think that perhaps we are able to connect with God as a child until certain knowledge takes that away. the seeing in the mirror is ourself with hazy memory of what that was, and we desire to have back. but, instead we get to go through the opposite first, decay and death. thank God that we can go to Jesus and believe and be changed and renewed in Him in a way that we can not quite see and understand as we are. also, i have felt the “i am in Love” feeling. and i suppose that may could have felt it was female, because he is use to feeling a similar feeling of what we call being in Love. only from experience it would probablly be with a woman. the feeling is being in Love, and can easily be confused with being in love. only this “being in Love” is being in the Love of the Holy Spirit in Jesus, the Son of the Father and our connection. very hard to put into words of human experience that we actually remember clearly. that is my take on it, anyway. part of us knows that we were once right in the hands of God, it is our soul, our heart, our spirit that knows this and when we were very small … yes, part of us remembers and knows.
i mean…hard to put into words…from experience…experience that we actually remember clearly.
i like the way this photo turned out. it is one of my faves. i had to get down below the flower to see that angle. a perspective we don’t always see, yet, a small child would be at just the right angle to see it. the petals were being held up by the green outer layer…designed that way…and it looks like arms stretched out and praising God.
Nancy…
I think I understand what you are saying. It’s a bit of what L.L. said in her post on this chapter. We seem to have a better connectedness to the Unseen as children, don’t we? And, yes, I believe that there is a part of us that remembers that holding. How else do we explain these sudden conversions? It seems to be a recognition of sorts, don’t you think? I love reading your thoughts, they open my heart.
L.L….this: ‘And if we are so afraid of “she” and if many of us experience nature as “she,” is this partly why many people are willing to abuse her, Nature?’
I never thought of this, but once again, you challenge the borders of my mind to reach a bit further. This question seems to address a deep part of our psyche. Do we, male and female, devalue the feminine? Even unaware? And if so, why? I have had to challenge my own deep-seeded assumptions because of the world I was raised in many times. How many others?
Very provocative thoughts.
I feel as though I’m wading into deep waters – a bit unsure of myself.
I confess that I felt a little uncomfortable with some of Mr. May’s choice of words. I think it is because I am always a bit afraid of getting too carried away by some sort of mystical thoughts. I am all too prone to that. There was a time in my life when I was looking for a sense of the miraculous to somehow affirm my faith – something tangible for me to build on.
I have come to understand that, for me at least, it is in the still quiet moments of faith that I have that sense of His presence. I can be in a huge corporate gathering, where everyone is caught up in praise and worship and there is an overwhelming sense of the presence of the Lord and feel somehow outside of it all. But when I get alone in my own quiet place and come to kneel before Him , I feel all of that sense of His drawing near that seemed to elude me. I can almost feel the touch of His hands on mine.
I think that is what Mr. May felt in those moments in the wilderness.
Such a thoughtful question, Laura…
*What do you think about experiential faith–that is, a faith that seeks out and maybe even depends on feeling these kinds of direct encounters with God?
My whole journey with God has been based on the fact that God can be experienced, known.
Can a relationship deepen without encounters?
He comes like morning, like fresh dew…
I love how you draw me to deeper places, Laura…
i like this one
Linda,
I understand what you say here; I think it is very seductive to seek these spiritual highs. I’m not saying this is a bad thing…just cautious about what happens when the valleys come. I am like you in that it is in the stillness that He feels nearest to me.
Ann,
I’m so glad to see you here! I read your post today on Ann K.’s book about slowing…very appropriate to our discussion here! I’m going to have to read that one
And yes, I too believe that God can be experienced…isn’t that amazing? That He condescends?
I guess my thoughts here were that there have been times in my life when I have not been able to feel His presence, no matter how hard I tried. It was tempting to give up. I worry about some of the faith movements that seem to be emotion-based, and know that if my faith had been fledgling during those difficult times, I may not have gone deeper. I think of Job and all the crying out he did, and I know that these amazing God-soaked experiences must go hand in hand with strong faith. As I have grown in my faith, I have come to realize that He always makes Himself known to me…even in the absence of that feeling of His presence.
It is you who plunges us in to the deep, my friend!
it is finding and looking and appreciating
one hundred everyday moments
After catching up, I finally have finished reading and posting on Chapter 2! And what interesting thoughts and great questions I read when I come over here. Mediated vs. Immediate? It seems that my experiences have been mixed, but that I have experienced direct encounters in His presence. The times I have spent in sincere prayer, authentic worship, and when crying out to Him-those experiences were (are) mine, with no “middle man”, and they are satisfying to my soul. The feelings? As in emotions? Sometimes, they are not there, but to me, that does not mean God is not. But, I do yearn for more…and deeper…and more intimate. Always.
I am anticipating…
and curious about what I would experience if I were to have the opportunity to spend a day, even, in the wilderness.
No time to comment yet this week, but I loved the post, Laura.
i love sam’s comment, perfect for a post on slowing.
Cornelia—One hundred every day moments always seem to pass me by…I think I need to take May’s example and Sloooowwww Down. If only I could figure out how to bring this Wisdom of Wilderness in the midst of laundry and homework and all these little love hassles. That’s the challenge, no?
Liz! I’m so glad you’ve joined us! I love your post.
Sam–Thanks for stopping by. Nancy’s comment made me smile. That slowing down thing is hard
“There is a road from the eye to the heart that does not go through the intellect.” G.K. Chesterton
I don’t know how May could adequately communicate what his spirit encountered in the wilderness. Certainly he felt flashes of verbal helplessness as he was trying to write this book. I’m grateful he took a stab at expressing it though- no matter what pronouns he settled on- because it’s been like listening to my own echo. (A much more articulate echo, at that.)
When I try to describe, analyze and explain what my spirit encounters in the presence of God sometimes I feel as though I’m binding up that experience by deigning to use mere words; other times I can hear myself elevating my experience to a mystical alternate plane of existence. Neither is the case, neither is exactly intentional. It’s kind of a “you just had to be there” situation. This road from the eye to the heart is occasionally a road on which turn offs and side trips to the intellect are difficult.
When May talks about realizing he left his sleeping bag at home, I enjoyed his intuitive approach to the problem. He changed from preparing for every imaginable eventuality (which keeps so very many of us from actually going into nature and having any kind of experience at all), to laughing at himself, shrugging his shoulders, and willingly moving into a new facet of his nature adventure- Camping Without A Sleeping Bag.
Nature can help us learn flexibility and intuitiveness.
Being in nature, for all it’s buzzing and activity, has quite a slowing power. The intuition pays off when I’m s-l-o-w and unhurried with myself and my environment, so I really think Mays hits the nail on the head here.
I sense myself responding to it, wanting to gently enter gentleness, desiring to be as hospitable to the wilderness as it is to me
Brilliant lines.
I wonder if mankind abuses nature because we don’t understand it’s hospitality; it’s gentleness. Obviously, nature is ferocious at times too, and it’s when nature becomes our grave that we seem to take the most notice. When it crushes our homes, floods our fields or inconveniences our weekend plans. Delivers us a bee sting, a rash, a frigid night without a sleeping bag, a sunburn.
But nature is our cradle as well.
How easy to ignore nature when it’s gentle and hospitable.
(I also wonder if mankind’s abuse of nature rises from the same “voiceless victim” perspective many abusers take toward the unborn, young children, the elderly, the handicapped and even the animal world.
Thinking that if the victim can’t tell anyone what’s happening, then somehow we can get away with it. )
Erin,
So many good thoughts here. I love the quote from Chesterton, it really captures a lot of what this book is about, I think.
How you say this: “When I try to describe, analyze and explain what my spirit encounters in the presence of God sometimes I feel as though I’m binding up that experience by deigning to use mere words; other times I can hear myself elevating my experience to a mystical alternate plane of existence.”
This helps me understand both my attraction and my discomfort with some of the words May uses. Yes, these things seem to be beyond words. I find myself groping too. Recently one of the middle-schoolers I teach asked me why I believe in God and words just seemed too weak. How do we explain what it feels like to fall in love? What are the right words to peg a passion? Or how your heart melts the first time you hold your newborn?
Some things, as you say, just have to be experienced.
And, nature as grave? nature as cradle? Wow. Beautifully said.
Thanks for joining our discussion.
Joj0–how did I miss you? I like this one too.
“The Holding”
Mother
nature
cradles me
to grave.
I did it today. Went back out. The snow, falling thick, tapping against my black umbrella, soaking my jeans. Bronze needles softening my tread. Smell of death, smell of cool life. Constancy of sound like a rushing creek… but it was only the trees tapping back patty-cake to the snow falling thick. And, yes, I breathed differently, as I always did during that year of every-day-outdoors. I am breathing differently still.