For the past month, I have listened to some powerful conversations taking place all around me. The range of topics spans remarkable breadths — everything from burning bushes to bus rapid transit.
One factor that made these conversations exceptional was the eclectic variety of folks engaged in the talking — young, old, black, white, men, women, city folk and county folk. How did this come to happen? How do we make space to engage in important conversations? And where do we find the room to listen?
You may think it depends on the presenting issue. And I’ll agree that an issue is a first factor of engagement. But next, it becomes a question of space — head space, heart space, and, finally, meeting space.
What does good listening space look like? Or feel like? It can happen in something called called “third place.”
Here’s how that’s defined in Wikipedia: “The third place (also known as third space) is a term used in the concept of community building to refer to social surroundings separate from the two usual social environments of home and the workplace.
“In his influential book The Great Good Place, Ray Oldenburg (1989, 1991) argues that third places are important for civil society, democracy, civic engagement, and establishing feelings of a sense of place.
“Oldenburg calls one’s ‘first place’ the home and those that one lives with. The ‘second place’ is the workplace — where people may actually spend most of their time. Third places, then, are ‘anchors’ of community life and facilitate and foster broader, more creative interaction. All societies already have informal meeting places; what is new in modern times is the intentionality of seeking them out as vital to current societal needs.
“Oldenburg suggests the following hallmarks of a true ‘third place’: Free or inexpensive | Food and drink, while not essential, are important | Highly accessible: proximate for many (walking distance) | Involve regulars – those who habitually congregate there | Welcoming and comfortable | Both new friends and old should be found there.”
Some of these attributes are the hallmarks of monastic hospitality. Most of them are covered in our Rule of Life here at Richmond Hill.
Come up, come in, say a prayer, have a cup of coffee. Slip into third place. And let’s talk about transforming this metropolitan City of ours.
Richard Rumble
April 2013
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Hearting our heading
Last month at Thursday Montage (an informal gathering of artists in the Richmond Hill art space), Andrew Terry shared his banner—an art object he made 6-7 years ago—that articulated for him a unique understanding of where he was/is headed.
He mapped his call. He “pictured” his idea, his longing, his place. Andrew might tell you he is not an artist, but he used these artist tools: imagination, hands, heart—and he created a map of his own making. He devised a vision, if not a place, of where he is heading. And he pondered it in his heart.
When his seminary studies were complete, Andrew received two wonderful job offers. How did he pick the place where he is? He went with what was in his heart. And the banner helped him see it clearly.
So, can hearting have an impact on heading? How do we pay attention to our interior signs? (Is this a personal showing of prophecy?)
Who planted the desire in our hearts in the first place? It can take a lifetime to figure out what is there. That task is not easy. With all that's going on around us it is hard to pay attention to what's going on within.
Sometimes, there is the possibility of a leaping heart, as in “my heart leapt at” the sound of her voice, or the sight of his smile—the sight or sound of something we know to be significant comes from deep within our core. We may not have ever seen it or heard it before, but when we do experience it, we recognize it immediately as holding some big significance for us.
If we cannot find the feeling firsthand, there are other means to point our way. Words, story, or poetry often can carry the clues to where we are heading, by showing us what touches our heart.
What about hurt? Does hurting affect hearting? Sometimes it does. Hurt and pain can point to the end of a road. The hurt from an aching heart can be a big indicator of loss.
And loss can point us in the direction of found.
Hearting helps with heading. It serves to balance logic with emotion. It gets us to the neighborhood of where we want to go. If you operate with “I’ll know it when I see it,” then drawing close is almost as good as being there. For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he (Proverbs 23:7). But Goethe says it best: “Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Willing is not enough; we must do.”
Richard Rumble
February 2013
He mapped his call. He “pictured” his idea, his longing, his place. Andrew might tell you he is not an artist, but he used these artist tools: imagination, hands, heart—and he created a map of his own making. He devised a vision, if not a place, of where he is heading. And he pondered it in his heart.
When his seminary studies were complete, Andrew received two wonderful job offers. How did he pick the place where he is? He went with what was in his heart. And the banner helped him see it clearly.
So, can hearting have an impact on heading? How do we pay attention to our interior signs? (Is this a personal showing of prophecy?)
Who planted the desire in our hearts in the first place? It can take a lifetime to figure out what is there. That task is not easy. With all that's going on around us it is hard to pay attention to what's going on within.
Sometimes, there is the possibility of a leaping heart, as in “my heart leapt at” the sound of her voice, or the sight of his smile—the sight or sound of something we know to be significant comes from deep within our core. We may not have ever seen it or heard it before, but when we do experience it, we recognize it immediately as holding some big significance for us.
If we cannot find the feeling firsthand, there are other means to point our way. Words, story, or poetry often can carry the clues to where we are heading, by showing us what touches our heart.
What about hurt? Does hurting affect hearting? Sometimes it does. Hurt and pain can point to the end of a road. The hurt from an aching heart can be a big indicator of loss.
And loss can point us in the direction of found.
Hearting helps with heading. It serves to balance logic with emotion. It gets us to the neighborhood of where we want to go. If you operate with “I’ll know it when I see it,” then drawing close is almost as good as being there. For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he (Proverbs 23:7). But Goethe says it best: “Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Willing is not enough; we must do.”
Richard Rumble
February 2013
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Epiphany: Walking into the light
In the aftermath of the holidays I’ve been walking. Literally, through the neighborhood on Church Hill, using “Map My Walk” (my first “app”) to chart my way as I go out each morning into the chill dawn of a new day. But also figuratively, as I navigate a major redesign and overhaul of our Richmond Hill web site.
With this web project I’ve come into a wilderness of the unknown, along with a few well-known traveling companions: Fear, Doubt and Uncertainty. Worse than the persistent, annoying comments coming from a 5-year-old in the backseat during a long car trip, these companions have replaced “Are we there yet?” with “You are so lost!” and “You'll never get out of this alive.”
I wonder as I walk. Where will this path take me? Where am I headed?
Ever notice, as we walk through our lives, how often it’s hard to know exactly where we are headed?
Sure, you can tell whether you’re going up or down a hill, and the sun provides helpful clues — is this East? West? North? Or South? These clues are good for telling you where you are. But what about where you are going? What journey are you taking?
Journeying is a process. As I’ve said before, the kind of journey is important. Is this a pilgrimage? Or are you wayfaring? What about transformation? It too is a process, and can share many aspects of both pilgrimage and wayfaring. Perhaps transformation is our destination, and pilgrimage or wayfaring are merely the means by which we reach that final goal.
Journeys are not to be taken without direction, or, without asking for direction(s). Who we ask and who we listen to can impact the outcome of each and any journey.
I subscribe to the Word of the Day. It is a daily affirmation appearing in my inbox from Gratefulness.org. What showed up on the Winter Solstice last month were these words from scholar and political theorist John Schaar: “The future is not some place we are going, but one we are creating. The paths are not to be found, but made. And the activity of making them changes both the maker and the destination.”
I find this to be helpful advice — what it lacks in clear direction it makes up for in encouragement to press on. Prayer also limits the chatter from my foes in the backseat of my mind. You simply can’t beat a good Celtic blessing like this:
O God, make clear to us each road.
O God, make safe to us each steep;
When we stumble, hold us;
When we fall, lift us up.
When we are hard-pressed with evil, deliver us;
and bring us at last to Your glory.
May God bless and keep you safe as you journey into the light of this new year.
Richard Rumble
January 2013
With this web project I’ve come into a wilderness of the unknown, along with a few well-known traveling companions: Fear, Doubt and Uncertainty. Worse than the persistent, annoying comments coming from a 5-year-old in the backseat during a long car trip, these companions have replaced “Are we there yet?” with “You are so lost!” and “You'll never get out of this alive.”
I wonder as I walk. Where will this path take me? Where am I headed?
Ever notice, as we walk through our lives, how often it’s hard to know exactly where we are headed?
Sure, you can tell whether you’re going up or down a hill, and the sun provides helpful clues — is this East? West? North? Or South? These clues are good for telling you where you are. But what about where you are going? What journey are you taking?
Journeying is a process. As I’ve said before, the kind of journey is important. Is this a pilgrimage? Or are you wayfaring? What about transformation? It too is a process, and can share many aspects of both pilgrimage and wayfaring. Perhaps transformation is our destination, and pilgrimage or wayfaring are merely the means by which we reach that final goal.
Journeys are not to be taken without direction, or, without asking for direction(s). Who we ask and who we listen to can impact the outcome of each and any journey.
I subscribe to the Word of the Day. It is a daily affirmation appearing in my inbox from Gratefulness.org. What showed up on the Winter Solstice last month were these words from scholar and political theorist John Schaar: “The future is not some place we are going, but one we are creating. The paths are not to be found, but made. And the activity of making them changes both the maker and the destination.”
I find this to be helpful advice — what it lacks in clear direction it makes up for in encouragement to press on. Prayer also limits the chatter from my foes in the backseat of my mind. You simply can’t beat a good Celtic blessing like this:
O God, make clear to us each road.
O God, make safe to us each steep;
When we stumble, hold us;
When we fall, lift us up.
When we are hard-pressed with evil, deliver us;
and bring us at last to Your glory.
May God bless and keep you safe as you journey into the light of this new year.
Richard Rumble
January 2013
Walking the Kingdom Walk
A while back in the Fall, I was enjoying some good conversation with Henry Simmons. We were discussing differences between pilgrimage and wayfaring: how the pilgrim knows where s(he)’s heading, but often wayfarers don’t know until they arrive. “Ah, yes,” said Henry. “But remember now, the pilgrim is different on their return.”
This got me to thinking about Advent and the Three Kings. They took a risky journey at great expense. They brought forth their gifts and paid their hommage to a most humble King. Who changed who? And how was life for them upon the return to their kingdoms?
Picturing myself in that story, I decided to write a song about that pilgrimage. I called it Walking the Kingdom Walk. Here’s how it goes:
Gone to Bethlehem, looking for a King
Not sure what I would find
Took a long journey with a lot of steps
Trying to ease my troubled mind
Was I coming? Was I going?
I don’t know—it felt good to be on the road
Somewhere on the way my perspective changed
You eased my heavy load
Fear was driving me, I was losing my world —
Disconnected and cut off
Getting kinda lonely out on my own
Walking the Kingdom walk
Was I coming? Was I going?
I don’t know — maybe You’ll show me a sign?
Lord, I need a glimpse of You today —
And I know things’ll work out fine
Showed up at the stable, brought forth my gift
Set it right before the Child
He looked at me, His eyes so bright
Lord, how we did smile!
Was I giving? Or receiving?
I don’t know — it felt right to be right there
Somehow out there on my way back home
I found an answer to my prayer
Was I giving? Or receiving?
It’s both, you see, that can make your life so free
On the way back home I came to find my self,
Thanking God for His gift called me.
This got me to thinking about Advent and the Three Kings. They took a risky journey at great expense. They brought forth their gifts and paid their hommage to a most humble King. Who changed who? And how was life for them upon the return to their kingdoms?
Picturing myself in that story, I decided to write a song about that pilgrimage. I called it Walking the Kingdom Walk. Here’s how it goes:
Gone to Bethlehem, looking for a King
Not sure what I would find
Took a long journey with a lot of steps
Trying to ease my troubled mind
Was I coming? Was I going?
I don’t know—it felt good to be on the road
Somewhere on the way my perspective changed
You eased my heavy load
Fear was driving me, I was losing my world —
Disconnected and cut off
Getting kinda lonely out on my own
Walking the Kingdom walk
Was I coming? Was I going?
I don’t know — maybe You’ll show me a sign?
Lord, I need a glimpse of You today —
And I know things’ll work out fine
Showed up at the stable, brought forth my gift
Set it right before the Child
He looked at me, His eyes so bright
Lord, how we did smile!
Was I giving? Or receiving?
I don’t know — it felt right to be right there
Somehow out there on my way back home
I found an answer to my prayer
Was I giving? Or receiving?
It’s both, you see, that can make your life so free
On the way back home I came to find my self,
Thanking God for His gift called me.
Reflection on the Rule: Prayer
PRAYER—Practicing a spiritual discipline that includes daily prayer for metropolitan Richmond in concert with the Richmond Hill Community.
What is this all about? Practicing a discipline? Or, disciplining a practice? Let’s break it down and see if we can get a handle on this important rule.
There are many kinds of prayer. In our tradition, the list can run long. According to Richard Foster, a Quaker who writes deeply and eloquently on both the subject of prayer and spiritual discipline, there are at least 21 categories of prayer. If that seems as daunting to you as it does to me, let me mention that Annie LaMott has boiled down all prayer to three singular words: Help! Thanks! Wow!
Categorically, that rolls up into petition, gratitude and praise. And that pretty much covers all the bases. How does this broad covering of prayer work into the Richmond Hill Rule of Life? Our rule provides us a framework which delineates some very concrete specifics—pointing to key boundaries of person, time and place.
First, the boundary of person. This is a spiritual discipline, involving not only the body, but the mind and soul as well. It could be akin to soul calisthenics—regular, rigorous exercise, played however you like—or, you could be quiet and yoga-like. The most important factor is your engagement.
The second boundary is time. This rule calls for practice daily, engaging in prayer at least once every 24 hours. Of course you can increase the frequency if you like and if you are able. Monks have a tradition of praying the Hours. They took the 24 hours that make a day and divided by 3 (in deference to the Holy Trinity). This yields eight 3-hour periods, designated “Hours”: I. Vigils (12 am - 3 am), II. Lauds (3 am - 6 am), III. Prime (6 am - 9 am), IV. Terce (9 am - 12 pm), V. Sext (12 pm - 3 pm), VI. None (3 pm - 6 pm), VII. Vespers (6 pm - 9 pm), VIII. Compline (9 pm - 12 pm). Here at Richmond Hill, we offer our prayers for the City at three times: 7 am, noon, and 6 pm, seven days of the week.
The last boundary is place. We pray specifically for the geography of this metropolitan area called Richmond. Metropolitan Richmond forms a single city of more than 1.3 million people, divided into 11 jurisdictions.
The next time you visit Richmond Hill, I invite you to pick up the Rule of Life and Weekly Prayer Cycle. This tiny pamphlet puts us all on the same page as we join together in praying for the healing of metropolitan Richmond (“Help!”), for the welfare of all our citizens (“Thanks!”), and for the establishment of God's order in our community (“Wow!”).
Amen!
Richard Rumble
November 2012
What is this all about? Practicing a discipline? Or, disciplining a practice? Let’s break it down and see if we can get a handle on this important rule.
There are many kinds of prayer. In our tradition, the list can run long. According to Richard Foster, a Quaker who writes deeply and eloquently on both the subject of prayer and spiritual discipline, there are at least 21 categories of prayer. If that seems as daunting to you as it does to me, let me mention that Annie LaMott has boiled down all prayer to three singular words: Help! Thanks! Wow!
Categorically, that rolls up into petition, gratitude and praise. And that pretty much covers all the bases. How does this broad covering of prayer work into the Richmond Hill Rule of Life? Our rule provides us a framework which delineates some very concrete specifics—pointing to key boundaries of person, time and place.
First, the boundary of person. This is a spiritual discipline, involving not only the body, but the mind and soul as well. It could be akin to soul calisthenics—regular, rigorous exercise, played however you like—or, you could be quiet and yoga-like. The most important factor is your engagement.
The second boundary is time. This rule calls for practice daily, engaging in prayer at least once every 24 hours. Of course you can increase the frequency if you like and if you are able. Monks have a tradition of praying the Hours. They took the 24 hours that make a day and divided by 3 (in deference to the Holy Trinity). This yields eight 3-hour periods, designated “Hours”: I. Vigils (12 am - 3 am), II. Lauds (3 am - 6 am), III. Prime (6 am - 9 am), IV. Terce (9 am - 12 pm), V. Sext (12 pm - 3 pm), VI. None (3 pm - 6 pm), VII. Vespers (6 pm - 9 pm), VIII. Compline (9 pm - 12 pm). Here at Richmond Hill, we offer our prayers for the City at three times: 7 am, noon, and 6 pm, seven days of the week.
The last boundary is place. We pray specifically for the geography of this metropolitan area called Richmond. Metropolitan Richmond forms a single city of more than 1.3 million people, divided into 11 jurisdictions.
The next time you visit Richmond Hill, I invite you to pick up the Rule of Life and Weekly Prayer Cycle. This tiny pamphlet puts us all on the same page as we join together in praying for the healing of metropolitan Richmond (“Help!”), for the welfare of all our citizens (“Thanks!”), and for the establishment of God's order in our community (“Wow!”).
Amen!
Richard Rumble
November 2012
Reflection on the Rule: Hospitality
HOSPITALITY—Living one’s life in service to others, in a commitment to welcome guests in love and a spirit of prayer.
Of the twelve Rules that bind us together as a community and keep us going up here at Richmond Hill, this is a biggie. I happen to think this rule is one powerful catalytic converter that can help bring about change and transformation in the City.
Hospitality’s Latin root is “hospes,” meaning “to have power over.” In its own quiet way, hospitality can be quite powerful. I’m not surprised to see “hospital” at root in there as well — since this is a word that brings transforming healing with it wherever it is present.
Culture today is so hectic and fast-paced, it seems we rarely have time for hospitality any more. Many of us are hustling so hard to make ends meet, no one is ever home to experience hospitality, much less to teach it to our children. We’ve come to regard it as a nice option, forgetting that in the culture of our nomadic ancestors, hospitality was a law that helped them survive the treacherous climate of the desert they inhabited.
These days, many of us inhabit virtual deserts, where we live isolated lives, locked in routines and locked in our cars. Cut off from living community, we invest our time and energy in constructing and maintaining virtual community, where Facebook replaces face time.
Hospitality is simply not digital. It is an analog, real-time art form. What makes it work is not just smiling, opening the door, or putting good food on the table. Or doing the dishes. Or cleaning up after someone departs. All of these are important actions, but, if rendered merely out of habit, they become perfunctory and superficial. Hardly the stuff of effective, transformative change.
Hospitality works its magic in the anticipation of arrival. Hospitable posture is modeled for us in scripture by both Mary and Martha, as well as the prodigal son’s father. It is all about believing in abundance. And being willing to share with others from the outpouring of grace we have experienced in our own lives. It anticipates another’s needs, graciously meeting them, often before they are spoken or even known.
Hospitality is an affirmation of grace. It is the joy of giving—whether that gift be food, water, rest, or a kind word. It’s all good. And it all works toward transforming change. Sometimes, all that is required is opening one’s eyes, ear, or hand. At the root of these gestures is the open heart, and that, dear friends, is the real agent of change.
Richard Rumble
October 2012
Of the twelve Rules that bind us together as a community and keep us going up here at Richmond Hill, this is a biggie. I happen to think this rule is one powerful catalytic converter that can help bring about change and transformation in the City.
Hospitality’s Latin root is “hospes,” meaning “to have power over.” In its own quiet way, hospitality can be quite powerful. I’m not surprised to see “hospital” at root in there as well — since this is a word that brings transforming healing with it wherever it is present.
Culture today is so hectic and fast-paced, it seems we rarely have time for hospitality any more. Many of us are hustling so hard to make ends meet, no one is ever home to experience hospitality, much less to teach it to our children. We’ve come to regard it as a nice option, forgetting that in the culture of our nomadic ancestors, hospitality was a law that helped them survive the treacherous climate of the desert they inhabited.
These days, many of us inhabit virtual deserts, where we live isolated lives, locked in routines and locked in our cars. Cut off from living community, we invest our time and energy in constructing and maintaining virtual community, where Facebook replaces face time.
Hospitality is simply not digital. It is an analog, real-time art form. What makes it work is not just smiling, opening the door, or putting good food on the table. Or doing the dishes. Or cleaning up after someone departs. All of these are important actions, but, if rendered merely out of habit, they become perfunctory and superficial. Hardly the stuff of effective, transformative change.
Hospitality works its magic in the anticipation of arrival. Hospitable posture is modeled for us in scripture by both Mary and Martha, as well as the prodigal son’s father. It is all about believing in abundance. And being willing to share with others from the outpouring of grace we have experienced in our own lives. It anticipates another’s needs, graciously meeting them, often before they are spoken or even known.
Hospitality is an affirmation of grace. It is the joy of giving—whether that gift be food, water, rest, or a kind word. It’s all good. And it all works toward transforming change. Sometimes, all that is required is opening one’s eyes, ear, or hand. At the root of these gestures is the open heart, and that, dear friends, is the real agent of change.
Richard Rumble
October 2012
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Life, neat & tidy — or, down to earth?
Lord, why is this life of mine so messy? I’d like to think that if it were up to me, my life would be neat and tidy. Actually, there is precious little in my life that would pass for neat and tidy. So, what’s this big attraction I have for neatness?
Neatness means no surprises, nothing unexpected. It demonstrates how well one has matters firmly in hand. Master of one’s fate. Living large and in charge.
Neatness is about no uncertainty showing. No rough edges. No turned up corners. No fuss, no muss. Neat may be tidy, but it’s not real life.
Neatness is about appearances. It is all about control, and control of this life is an illusion.
Neatness as a life philosophy may be over-rated.
Why? Because, life is a messy business. You want a clear explanations — a solid understanding of what’s going on around you? So sorry, dude, I can’t help you there.
Dear Lord, keep me humble.
Humble. The root of this is humus, the Latin word meaning earth. From this we get the concept of humility.
Humility. Grounded. Down to earth becomes of the earth. Of the earth means close to the ground, and that would be heading in a direction opposite to those lofty regions where pride dwells. Ah, pride — that high opinion of one self, so richly deserved.
When pride takes a pounding, it hurts. We feel brought low. Grounded. As painful as this comedown can be, when it happens, often it can be a very good thing.
Grounded is where the foundation is. Staying grounded helps keeps one in touch with one’s roots. How is healthy growth possible when one is cut off from one’s roots?
We are born with a desire to ascend to the heights. How are we to cope with the strong desire for upward mobility? We live caught in a pull between the earthy and the heavenly, rising and falling. Riding up and down, living one’s life on a yo-yo string.
In high school, I was taught the lesson that a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, and our culture certainly admires and encourages this tendency. But a single-minded focus on ascendency is not in keeping with living a well-balanced life.
Living well requires us to live with tension. Feet squarely on the ground, careful not to get too puffed up. If any part of us is to ascend, let it be our eyes, our prayers and our praise.
Richard Rumble
September 2012
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
The turning point
As we run down the road, how do we adjust the trajectory of our lives? What’s it like for you? Quick! Turn here! Or, shoot, I missed it… guess I’d better turn around and go back?
Perhaps the question is determined by who is driving the vehicle. Who sits in the driver’s seat? And, who came up with this particular destination in the first place?
What we are talking about here is navigation. Global positioning. In our world of OnStar, MapQuest and smart phones, one need not remain directionally challenged. But how about spiritual direction? Where does one find the spiritual GPS app to help you along your spiritual journey?
I’m surprised how I have consistently embarked on significant life journeys with no solid idea where I was going. I’ve yet to do that in a car. I mean really, who gets in a car, fires up the ignition, puts it in gear, and then says “I have no clue where I'm going. I guess I'll know it when I see it?” But I must confess, that is exactly what I’ve done — with college, with careers, wives, and children.
How do we know which way to turn?
The basic question is one of pilgrimage vs. wayfaring. There is a difference. Pilgrimage is linear, with a well-defined beginning, middle and end. The pilgrim’s journey is one of the road. Sure, there might be hardship and sacrifice, but you always know where you are going.
Wayfaring is far less specific. You set out, unsure of the exact end, but you’ll know it when you see it. Wayfaring is like traversing the deep blue ocean. Think Christopher Columbus.
It’s not as though one must choose one way over the other to get around in this life. But I believe we have an innate preference for how we like to journey.
The clearest model of this dichotomy I’ve seen is the labyrinth. Here at Richmond Hill, we have one, and it’s called the Jerusalem Mile. There is no right or wrong way to walk the Mile. Nothing to it but to do it. Step up, step in, just keep putting one foot in front of the other, and guess what? You will arrive at the center.
The object lesson here is two-fold. One, you have to show up. And two, you must engage the process. Along the way, there will be reversals, switchbacks, and headings directly away from your goal. Just like real life.
But, if you stay faithful and stay the course, regardless of how many times you get turned around, you will reach your destination. Keeping some Scripture in the glove compartment is also a good idea. Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. —(Psalm 119:105)
Richard Rumble
August 2012
Perhaps the question is determined by who is driving the vehicle. Who sits in the driver’s seat? And, who came up with this particular destination in the first place?
What we are talking about here is navigation. Global positioning. In our world of OnStar, MapQuest and smart phones, one need not remain directionally challenged. But how about spiritual direction? Where does one find the spiritual GPS app to help you along your spiritual journey?
I’m surprised how I have consistently embarked on significant life journeys with no solid idea where I was going. I’ve yet to do that in a car. I mean really, who gets in a car, fires up the ignition, puts it in gear, and then says “I have no clue where I'm going. I guess I'll know it when I see it?” But I must confess, that is exactly what I’ve done — with college, with careers, wives, and children.
How do we know which way to turn?
The basic question is one of pilgrimage vs. wayfaring. There is a difference. Pilgrimage is linear, with a well-defined beginning, middle and end. The pilgrim’s journey is one of the road. Sure, there might be hardship and sacrifice, but you always know where you are going.
Wayfaring is far less specific. You set out, unsure of the exact end, but you’ll know it when you see it. Wayfaring is like traversing the deep blue ocean. Think Christopher Columbus.
It’s not as though one must choose one way over the other to get around in this life. But I believe we have an innate preference for how we like to journey.
The clearest model of this dichotomy I’ve seen is the labyrinth. Here at Richmond Hill, we have one, and it’s called the Jerusalem Mile. There is no right or wrong way to walk the Mile. Nothing to it but to do it. Step up, step in, just keep putting one foot in front of the other, and guess what? You will arrive at the center.
The object lesson here is two-fold. One, you have to show up. And two, you must engage the process. Along the way, there will be reversals, switchbacks, and headings directly away from your goal. Just like real life.
But, if you stay faithful and stay the course, regardless of how many times you get turned around, you will reach your destination. Keeping some Scripture in the glove compartment is also a good idea. Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. —(Psalm 119:105)
Richard Rumble
August 2012
God willing
Thy Kingdom come, thy Will be done …
I wonder. For all the times the Lord's Prayer is prayed, by me and millions of other folks, how does God’s will get done? Each and every time we say that prayer, at the outset, we delineate a far reaching goal: connecting the coming of the Kingdom with successfully doing our Lord’s will.
Are wishing and willing connected? Where is the tipping point between wishing that something might happen and willing to make it so? To that end, I believe we each have parts to play, key roles, in the fulfillment of our Maker’s master plan.
Some years ago, I visited my parents while they lived in their old house at the end of 52nd Street in Virginia Beach. Across the street from the house is Crystal Lake, where my Dad kept a sailboat moored. There was a nice breeze blowing and he invited me to go for a sail with him. Once we were underway out on the lake he asked if I’d like to take a turn at the helm. “Sure!” I replied as I clambered aft to the tiller.
As I sat back there, tiller in hand, suddenly I was unsure about what had to happen next. Where was the wind that was keeping us moving? How does one stay in its flow? “Mind your point of sail,” my father kept admonishing me. “Right, Dad,” I replied. “Uh, what’s a point of sail?”
“Look off the bow of the boat; what do you see?” he said. “Just a bunch of trees on the far side of the lake,” I replied. “That is not specific enough to be helpful. Pick one that's distinctive and head for it,” he suggested. “What if I pick the wrong one?” I said.
“There is no wrong one – just make your choice. That establishes your heading. Once you have a direction, then you can make whatever adjustments necessary to keep you on course. Understand?” he asked.
“I get it!”
And thus I received my first sailing lesson, plus, an incredibly valuable life lesson. Picking and choosing are integral components in navigating the waters of our existence. And as God’s children, we are endowed with the capacity of free will. This capacity can be used for good, or ill – it’s up to us to decide.
This responsibility can be heavy at times. At other times, it can be exhilarating.
I have not seen God’s final chart or plan for the Kingdom, but I believe we must move on anyway, often sailing by the seat of our pants. When it comes to taking action, the only tell-tale on which I can rely is this: “Will this build up the Kingdom? Or, tear it down?” In God’s grand scheme, am I saying yes? Or no?
I’m wishing for yes. And God willing, may it be so.
Richard Rumble
June 2012
I wonder. For all the times the Lord's Prayer is prayed, by me and millions of other folks, how does God’s will get done? Each and every time we say that prayer, at the outset, we delineate a far reaching goal: connecting the coming of the Kingdom with successfully doing our Lord’s will.
Are wishing and willing connected? Where is the tipping point between wishing that something might happen and willing to make it so? To that end, I believe we each have parts to play, key roles, in the fulfillment of our Maker’s master plan.
Some years ago, I visited my parents while they lived in their old house at the end of 52nd Street in Virginia Beach. Across the street from the house is Crystal Lake, where my Dad kept a sailboat moored. There was a nice breeze blowing and he invited me to go for a sail with him. Once we were underway out on the lake he asked if I’d like to take a turn at the helm. “Sure!” I replied as I clambered aft to the tiller.
As I sat back there, tiller in hand, suddenly I was unsure about what had to happen next. Where was the wind that was keeping us moving? How does one stay in its flow? “Mind your point of sail,” my father kept admonishing me. “Right, Dad,” I replied. “Uh, what’s a point of sail?”
“Look off the bow of the boat; what do you see?” he said. “Just a bunch of trees on the far side of the lake,” I replied. “That is not specific enough to be helpful. Pick one that's distinctive and head for it,” he suggested. “What if I pick the wrong one?” I said.
“There is no wrong one – just make your choice. That establishes your heading. Once you have a direction, then you can make whatever adjustments necessary to keep you on course. Understand?” he asked.
“I get it!”
And thus I received my first sailing lesson, plus, an incredibly valuable life lesson. Picking and choosing are integral components in navigating the waters of our existence. And as God’s children, we are endowed with the capacity of free will. This capacity can be used for good, or ill – it’s up to us to decide.
This responsibility can be heavy at times. At other times, it can be exhilarating.
I have not seen God’s final chart or plan for the Kingdom, but I believe we must move on anyway, often sailing by the seat of our pants. When it comes to taking action, the only tell-tale on which I can rely is this: “Will this build up the Kingdom? Or, tear it down?” In God’s grand scheme, am I saying yes? Or no?
I’m wishing for yes. And God willing, may it be so.
Richard Rumble
June 2012
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
