When I started this series I asked people to write about how they connected to God outside of church, but I have been reminded by many of the comments of the importance of connecting inside church buildings too. Lynne’s article is another good reminder of this.

The first time I set foot in a Benedictine monastery, I knew many, many people had prayed over many, many years in that place. It was St. Gertrude’s Monastery in Cottonwood, Idaho, and all the spaces felt sacred. I kept coming back every year until we moved away from that part of the world. In my visits there, my own prayers felt like part of a chain that spanned many years.

Around the same time as my first visit to the monastery, I discovered two sacred places in Seattle, the city where I lived. Places where I could pray easily. Places where I sensed the presence of God.

St. Mark’s Cathedral, the Episcopal cathedral in Seattle, has a heavy hugeness to it. Its solidity speaks to me of God’s safety and stability, and the enormous empty space inside of it tells me God is so much bigger than I can grasp.

The Chapel of St. Ignatius at Seattle University is small and quirky, with odd curves and angles. Its colored glass windows come in a variety of sizes and shapes. The baptismal font near the entrance is very large, and the water rises exactly to the height of the font, giving a smooth still surface much like the pool of water outside the door of the chapter. The stillness of the water in the font and the odd shapes of the building and the windows speak to me of God’s peace coupled with the challenge of God’s unpredictable call to us.

Fifteen years ago, around the time of my first visit to the monastery, I was a newly ordained associate pastor in a Presbyterian congregation in Seattle, and I knew I needed reflection time in order to hear God’s guidance for ministry. In addition to the yearly trips to the monastery, I booked out one Wednesday afternoon each month for thinking, praying and planning. On those Wednesdays I parked my car a few blocks from Seattle University, and I walked a circular loop that took me to both St. Mark’s Cathedral and the Chapel of St. Ignatius. I brought my journal, and I sat in each of the two worship spaces journaling for a while. I tried to sink into the space and listen for what God had for me in each of the two very different places of worship.

Walking between the two worship places got me out into the fresh air. I always enjoyed the urban walk along sidewalks, businesses, parked cars and busy streets. As anyone who engages in urban walking knows, small but beautiful signs of God’s creation peek out everywhere. A baby in a stroller, a flowering bush, a pocket park with interesting landscaping, a window box with petunias. My Wednesday afternoon combination of fresh air with signs of God’s creation, plus architectural spaces that speak of God’s character, fed my soul in profound ways.

Two years after I began that monthly practice, I had a knee injury that prohibited me from walking very much, so I had to find new ways to reflect and meet God. I’ll never forget those spaces that spoke to me of God’s character, spaces where I heard God’s voice of love, felt the companionship of Jesus, and sensed the Holy Spirit’s guidance for ministry.

Oak Trees England

A tree, my most sacred space…

When I first began my relationship with God, I was instantly thrown into turmoil in my relationship with my family. I still lived at home, and they exercised harsh restrictions in my life in order to keep me from walking on my new path. In fact, in one particular attempt to deter me, they took me out of Colorado for an entire summer, to prevent me from going to a certain church.

What they didn’t expect, what I didn’t expect, was the way that God met me in the pine groves of the Pacific Northwest. The trees towered over me, catching sun rays and bouncing them off their green needles and letting shadows twinkle across their trunks. They were playfully declaring the glory of the Lord. I saw God in those groves, catching glimpses of His promise to His people: to trade their ashes for beauty, to raise them up like oaks of righteousness. As I watched the sun snag on the pine needles, my heart was consoled: me, a living promise of roots that dug deep for water, deep for the nourishment that would grow me up into a towering tree, a sign of His faithfulness.

Six months later, I’d run deep into the forests of Switzerland, running to a clearing where I’d collapse, the trees covering me, standing at my side and my back as though God’s army of angels was there in those very leaves, in those swaying branches that covered me in a blanket of peace. I had left home and gone to Switzerland, not being able to stand what my family did to me anymore. Almost as soon as I stepped off the train that took me to my Swiss village, my family severed ties, in a way full of finality, sending me into a season of despair and tears. And so I’d go into my forest, and I’d wait on God to show me something. He had met me in the forest once before and I trusted Him to do it again. Without fail, I’d wait and the sun would dance into the clearing and dry the tears from my face, and I would rest in the promise that the waves wouldn’t drown me, they wouldn’t sweep me away. God would rescue–no, He was rescuing me. He was pouring love into my dying roots, reviving me.

More than a decade later my friend had to bury her brother, and her long time best friend, just shy of 40 years old. And as I sought to comfort her, I could see one thing as I prayed: my friend in a clearing with an army of trees at her back, holding her steady, keeping her on her feet in the moments when the grief was too strong and it threatened to crush her. And those trees? Her community, the people who committed to pursue a holy God and be raised up in His righteousness so that we could pour that healing balm that came from God alone on her wounded heart.

Her brother’s ashes are buried at the foot of a kingly tree, one that climbs high into the heavens, birds perching on the branches so tall you can’t see their shapes but faintly hear them, the rain falling through and becoming mist by the time it lands on you. What beauty and hope there is in that picture for me.

Trees are my sacred space, my cathedral where I meet with God. When I sit at the trunk of a tree, or run my hand over the gnarled knots in a tree in my neighborhood that has pushed itself up through the sidewalk, I know God’s closeness. Whether in the pine groves near Seattle, the forests in Switzerland, or the olive groves in Spain, I find a sense of home, my true home. When the aspens quake in the late summer with the autumn breeze moving in, their grace and strength remind me of my journey with God and nudge me to remember: anchor my soul in Him and He will help me stand tall.

I love walking through the doors of my church building, the worship echoing along the walls and the warmth of the chatter of loved ones rushing at me. I need that quirky old building to remind me that my job helping build the Kingdom is as sacred as anything else, joining God’s people to raise up the cause of the orphan and the widow. The building reminds me that my soul does not have only an inward journey, but also an outward one. But what my soul longs for most, is that secret place where I meet God, my most sacred of all sacred spaces, the forest. I need the stained glass of the glinting sunshine and the dew. I need the hushed whispers of the leaves and the wind. I need the intricate kaleidoscope of the bark and the sap. But most of all, I need the promise of the tender blossom returning in the spring after a sleepy winter, its scent drifting on the promise of His redeeming love.

Spirit

‘And afterward, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your old men will dream dreams, your young men will see visions.’
(Zec 12:10)
‘Because you are sons, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, “Abba, Father.”‘
(Gal 4:6)

Into your presence we come. Into fellowship with Father, Son and Holy Spirit; Glorious Trinity.
You breathed this world into being. Your creative Spirit is still visible within our everyday lives; through the changing seasons, the colours and sounds of nature, the rhythm of day and night, sunrise and sunset, tide and wind, rain and shine.
All: Breathe upon our fellowship, Creating Spirit, Creator God

Your Spirit, present in the birth pangs of this world empowered the Prophets
of old, ordinary people called to live extraordinary lives.
All: Breathe upon our fellowship, Creating Spirit, Creator God

Your Spirit was so visible through the life of your Son, from the moment
of conception to his death and glorious resurrection.
All: Breathe upon our fellowship, Creating Spirit, Creator God

Your Spirit was the parting gift of Jesus to the world. ‘You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses… to the ends of the earth’
All: Breathe upon our fellowship, Creating Spirit, Creator God

Father, you have gifted us with the power to perform miracles,
to be your witnesses here and to the ends of the earth.
Yet we stand so often with feelings of inadequacy,
fearful of our own failings and sin.
Forgive us when we try and limit your power
and underestimate our own capabilities.
Forgive us when we fail to open our hearts fully
to the working of your Spirit,
when we choose to limit your work in our lives.
Empower us as you did the Prophets of old; embolden us in our witness to our family, our neighbours and all whom we meet.

Fill us with your Spirit
All: That our faith might be enriched 

Fill us with your Spirit
All: That our lives might be empowered

Fill us with your Spirit
All: That our witness might be emboldened

Fill us with your Spirit
All: That your name might be glorified

‘And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit, who lives in you’
(Rom 8:11)

Show me your ways, O Lord
All: Teach me your paths

Guide me in your truth and teach me
All: for you are God my Saviour, and my hope is in you all day long

Holy Spirit, without your power in the Church today we shall always be weak and ineffective in our mission.
How can the world see you through our lives if they cannot see the power of your love shining through?
How can the world feel your healing touch if we do not know the reality of your presence in our lives?
How can we show a world that is searching where to find spiritual fulfilment
if our lives have not first been made whole?

Holy Spirit, your creative breath is the power in your Church today, Lord. May we know that power in this place and in our lives.
Amen

Read more at: http://www.faithandworship.com/liturgy10.htm#ixzz2TYx0vgMg
Under Creative Commons License: Attribution

via Associated Press. Photo by Mike Fuertes

The first piece of news that caught my attention this morning was about the devastating tornados that sped through West Texas last night killing at least 12 people. My heart aches for people whose lives and livelihoods have been destroyed in a few terrifying minutes.

Then I received a message from my friend Cherie Minton who together with her husband Jack heads up Hope Force International. Her request: “Pray for the first responders.” Coincidently my gospel reading for the morning was the story of the Good Samaritan. First responders – good samaritans, strangers become neighbours, those who respond to the divine spark of love within to show mercy, compassion and love to complete strangers often putting their own lives at risk in the process.

This was the background out of which I wrote my prayer this morning.

Lord of mercy,

Be with those who suffer.

Into their broken lives,

Bring hope and peace.

Into their devastated communities,

Bring restoration.

Lord of mercy,

Be with those who respond.

In their bravery,

Keep them safe.

In their compassion,

Show your love.

In their faces,

May we see Jesus.

Pentecost icon via Wikimedia

Each year I like to post a new list of resources for special days in the lectionary. Today’s list is an updated resource list for Pentecost.

This is the day when we celebrate:.

1. The coming of the Holy Spirit and the infilling of Jesus’ disciples with the power to go out and change the world
2. The great multi cultural gathering that we catch a glimpse of as we watch the spirit fall and suddenly everyone is able to understand each other – not all speaking the same language but able to understand each other in their own languages.  Acts 2:11.
3. Pentecost is traditionally the time that many churches pray for the peace of our world in which at times there seems to be so little cross cultural understanding.

Last year’s resources focused on visual resources and Christian art that give us images of Jesus from different cultural perspectives.

This year’s list provides some of the best sites I have found from around the world with resources for Pentecost. I would love to expand this list so if you know of other resources that you think should be added and help us to think creatively about this important celebration please let me know.

From Australia & New Zealand

The Billabong

Laughing Bird Liturgical Resources

From Bosco Peters in New Zealand

From South Africa

Sacredise.com always produces wonderful resources

From U.K

Jonny Baker always provides great resources in his worship tricks. You check out the general list for pentecost here.

I particularly like this link to a great Pentecost meditation by Mark Berry.

From Canada

Re-worship  always provides excellent resources and this Pentecost list is no exception

From U.S.

The Text This Week has some of the most comprehensive resource lists around. Their pentecost list is well worth visiting.

Another good list is Resources from the Calvin Institute

And for a short meditation I enjoyed this video by Franklyn Shaefer

From U.S.

A beautiful Pentecost poem from Outside the Box

I have adapted the following prayer from one I wrote a few years ago for Pentecost. Enjoy.

God, your Spirit fell like tongues of fire,

The seal of your ownership is on us,

You have breathed your Holy Spirit into our hearts.

(Pause to invite the Holy Spirit into your day’s activities)

God, your spirit fell like tongues of fire. 

It filled those who were empty,

It empowered those who were weary.

God, your spirit fell like tongues of fire. 

It brought together those who were divided,

It reassured those who were afraid.

God, your spirit fell like tongues of fire. 

By its power we can walk together as one,

By its power we can find strength to share.

God, your spirit fell like tongues of fire.

By its power we can find freedom in loving each other,

By its power we can find life in you. 

Read scriptures for Day of Pentecost from daily lectionary 

Eternal Spirit

Earth-Maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver,

source of all that is and that shall be,

Father and Mother of us all.

Loving God, in whom is heaven.

The hallowing of your name echoes through

the universe!

The way of your justice be followed by the peoples

of the earth!

Your heavenly will be done by all created beings!

Your commonwealth of peace and freedom

sustain our hope and come on earth.

With the bread we need for today, feed us.

In the hurts we absorb from one another, forgive us.

In times of temptation and test, spare us.

From the grip of all that is evil, free us.

For you reign in the glory of the power that is love,

now and forever.

Amen.

(This version of the Lord’s prayer from New Zealand Prayer book) 

God, thank you for your spirit breaking down barriers within and without

Barriers that distort our ability to lead a life fully integrated with you and your ways

Forgive us for the times we have deliberately resisted the Spirit’s work

Life giving spirit, God’s advocate and guide, have mercy on us.

Forgive us God for the barriers we create within ourselves,

Barriers that resist your healing work and prevent us moving toward wholeness.

Forgive our self-centerdness, our anger, our fear of change, our lack of trust in your love.

Life giving spirit, God’s advocate and guide, have mercy on us.

Forgive us God, for the barriers we create between us and you,

Barriers that separate us from your love and the assurance of your salvation.

Forgive our busyness, our independence, our desire to go our own way.

Life giving spirit, God’s advocate and guide, have mercy on us.

Forgive us God, for the barriers we create between us and each other,

Barriers that separate us from neighbours near and far and inhibit mutual love and care.

Forgive our resentment of others, our love of control, our indifference to the poor.

Life giving spirit, God’s advocate and guide, have mercy on us.

Forgive us God, for the barriers we create between us and your beautiful creation,

Barriers that abuse your world and deny our responsibility as stewards.

Forgive our greed, our misuse of resources, our pollution of the environment.

Life giving spirit, God’s advocate and guide, have mercy on us.

God, by the power of your spirit, free us and break down these barriers.

Turn us away from the bondage of a life lived for ourselves and our own desires,

May your spirit guide us into the freedom of life lived for you and your purposes.

Life giving spirit, God’s advocate and guide, have mercy on us.

Glorious God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,

We go into this day knowing your Spirit dwells within us.

May your Counselor make us wise and help us understand what it means to know you.

May the Spirit’s fire ignite our hearts so that we understand the hope of being chosen by God.

May we discover the glorious blessings we share together with all God’s people.

God we go into this day knowing it is you who makes us stand firm in Christ

We are filled with your Spirit,

We are anointed to serve,

We go out to bring resurrection life.

May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all, this day and forever.

Amen

The elation of discovery has often gone hand in hand with the joy creativity for me. In moments of discovery just as with acts of creativity, its often as if some transcendent melody, some deeper truth, strikes a resonant frequency within me.

I’ve never had a moment I can think back on when I successfully created a sacred space. But to be certain, since I was a young boy, I have always been excited by my own discoveries while exploring nature: a frog species never seen by my own eyes, color variations on a common flower, a new tree with branches low enough to climb. As I child I would map the green belt in my neighborhood based on the discovery of such things.

The first time I recall discovering a sacred space I was about 9 years old. It was a whole new kind of discovery.

My father and I were on our first trip to the American southwest. These trips would become a yearly tradition for my dad and I for the next 10 years, and even now, as I am 28 and he is 70, we still make it a goal to continue the tradition when possible.

I was fortunate to be raised by a father who invested in me, focused on me, and lead me into adventure while directing me toward a deeper truth. It’s no coincidence, for me, that on this trip with my earthly father I experienced a sacred space full of the presence of God the Father.

That day, my father and I had spent a long time driving. Our goal was to experience and photograph the wild life in and around Anza Borrego Desert State Park in Southern California’s Colorado Desert. We had stopped at a store earlier that day to get sandwich fixings to prepare us for a late night of driving slowly along the open, relatively quiet roads, stopping to view scorpions, tarantulas, geckos and rattle snakes as they crawled across the solar charged asphalt.

We pulled into a large dirt turn out about 20 minutes after sunset. On the opposite side of the road from the turn out, the base foothills of some small mountains gently ascended. With our backs to these mountains, we looked south. My dad told me Mexico was in sight, but it all looked the same to me: an ever-dimming landscape of creosote bushes, tumbleweed, sand and dust.

About an hour previous, my father and I were driving, keeping our eyes pealed for “crepuscular” wildlife. I learned on that trip that crepuscular referred to animal foraging behaviors during dawn or dusk, a common characteristic of many forms of desert wildlife.

As my father walked around the car, he bent down and touched asphalt. “It’s definitely warm enough. Animals will be on the road”, he remarked.

He went around and opened the trunk, removing some rounded dinner roles, lunch meet and condiments from a small ice chest. In the increasing darkness, we quickly cobbled together a couple of small sandwiches while we leaned with our backs against the car, looking south. We ate in contented silence.

As my appetite became sufficiently quenched and the stars began to make their appearance, it was the stillness that suddenly drew me in. Never in my life had I experienced what I was experiencing at that moment: The gentle intermittent whir of the wind through the hearty desert brush was the only sound. I couldn’t see a single man made light. The air temperature was comfortably in the 90s, and within a few minutes there were more stars than I knew could fit in the night sky. It was like some invisible artist poked dozens of new pinholes in the darkening canvas above me each time I blinked.

As I continued to meditate on what was before me, I realized that this was the first time in my life I had ever focused on silence. It was almost like I had discovered silence for the first time; only this silence was mixed with warmth, the smell of desert plants, and 1000s of stars I never new existed. The physical sensations were nothing compared to the feeling deep inside me: something in this desert solitude was certainly the opposite of loneliness: it was alive, it was beautiful, and it was communing with my soul in some incredible way. “Be still, and know that I am God”, my mother used to always say. Here, in this space, I didn’t have to be still. The stillness that I discovered in that moment proclaimed God, and it just was, it wasn’t something I had to be. It surrounded me and drew me into a reassuring presence. It saturated the night. There was something about it that redirected all imagination and experience to God. This was certainly a sacred space that I had discovered.

In the years since, I have returned to the desert many times, and the sacred space is still there. My memory often turns to that first night, though, leaning against the car with my dad. Nothing quite compares to the amazement of that first discovery with my father.

I don’t often do book reviews, but when Sorin Books contacted me about doing one on Christine Valter’s Paintner’s latest book Eyes of the Heart: Photography as a Christian Contemplative Practice, I was delighted. I love Christine’s contemplative books and this one did not disappoint.

I am a keen photographer but this book’s appeal goes far beyond that. Its contemplative exercises adapt the contemplative practices of lectio divina and visio divina into a new form of spiritual observation. Through the lens of a camera we can not just take images but receive them.

By bringing the camera to the eye and allowing an encounter with the holy to open our hearts, we have the possibility for a transformative potential from the photographic encounter. Look through the lens and imagine that is a portal to a new way of seeing. (15)

Christine redefines photography as a receiving rather than a taking skill. She points out that the traditional perspective of photography is aggressive – we shoot or take photos. Yet really we are receiving an image, the transmission of light from a scene or object that God has created.

I love this fresh approach to photography and its application to the way we look at the world as we walk, talk and interact. And I love the provokative questions she asks: What is hidden and what is revealed – a question not just in a photograph but in all of life. What is mirrored back? Traditional SLR cameras use mirrors to create images and in life we need polished inner mirrors that cultivate our capacity to see God more clearly in more places and experiences.

You can probably tell that I loved this book and found it both challenging and inspiring. I would heartily recommend Eyes of the Heart: Photography as a Christian Contemplative Practice, to all my friends, photographers and non photographers alike who desire to have the eyes of their hearts opened to a deeper and clearer experience of God.