Doing Spirituality

In light of my previous post about the joy of moving, I am going to talk about the physicality of spiritual practices.

In other eras, some writers and teachers had a lot to say about what we ought do with our body in prayer, singing, reading, preaching, listening to sermons. In recent years, many preachers have spent a fair amount of energy insisting that posture does not matter. God will hear our prayers whether our eyes are open or shut, whether we're kneeling or standing or sitting, whether we are lying on our backs or lying on our stomachs or standing on our heads.
All this verbiage about God being able to hear our prayers no matter what our posture misses the point. The question is not can God hear us? That's hardly a useful question. Of course, God can hear us. A relevant question would be are there postures that will enhance our prayer experience. Are some bodily positions and actions especially conducive to a rich prayer experience?

There is a profound connection between bodily action and posture and what goes on in our minds. In light of this, we would do well to give greater credence to the various spiritual practices that are said to enhance our experience of God.

Given the power of the body it would make sense that prayer performed in a kneeling position will be a very different experience from prayer performed standing with our face lifted toward heaven and our arms spread wide. The physical difference between Pentecostal worship with its exuberance and noise and activity and a liturgical service with its order, rationality and stillness necessarily means there is a spiritual difference.
I do not believe that one form is superior to the other. Neither embraces the full range of human encounters with God. Both can be idolized. Each offers a way for worshipers to be bodily present with their God.

It's possible to “participate” in mountain climbing by watching it on television. You can “participate” in surfing by watching YouTube videos of super surfers on giant waves. You can “play” football by sitting on the couch and watching. But few people who have climbed a mountain or caught a wave or intercepted a pass would be satisfied to settle for watching.

In spiritual life, it's possible to participate by watching. We can listen to sermons about praying, we can watch musicians perform during church, we can read books about fasting and feasting, about meditating and studying. But the people who find the deepest satisfaction in spiritual life are those who do, who engage in spiritual activities. They kneel for prayer or they stand and face the morning sun with their face lifted and their arms spread wide. They purposefully make one meal a day or one meal a week a tactile spiritual activity. Spirituality, among people who get the most out of, is something they do with their bodies. It takes deliberate activity. It's not an idea, it's not only a feeling, it's not even theology, as important as theology is. Spirituality is something we do with our bodies.

We do not imagine that God needs us to get in some kind of posture before he can hear us or before he can see us or respond to us. We do imagine that engaging our bodies in spiritual practices will be a far richer experience than playing with ideas in our heads or sitting still while others sing or talk about praying.

The Joy of Moving

Last night I was researching a hike in the North Cascades. I came across pictures taken by some guys who climbed a peak in the area during the winter. The pictures featured blinding expanses of snow, sweeping, steep snow fields and little dots connected with lines across the snow (climbers linked by ropes). It was a sunny day. In nearly every picture, you could not miss the implied exertion required to be where these guys were. Every step up that steep snowfield at that elevation required serious breathing. After climbing for 30 or 40 minutes, or an hour or two, the legs begin to burn. Still, in every picture where you could see someone's face, they were smiling. It got me to thinking.
I've done some winter hiking in the Cascades. I've spent hours laboriously kicking steps with my snowshoes as we inched our way up an interminable snow field. There is the constant tug-of-war between the heat generation from your muscles and the heat sucking effect of wind and frigid temperature. You try to get just the right balance of enough clothes to avoid getting cold while avoiding excessive sweating. After awhile on a really steep slope you begin to think of nothing except reaching the top and being done.
It seems like a crazy exercise. Why not just take a helicopter to the summit?

If you done it, you know the answer. There is a mysterious, deep satisfaction in the exertion, in the repetitive motion of marching up a mountain. It is not just the exhilaration of standing on the summit. There is a soul-stirring gladness in the climbing itself. It is an experience available only to those who do it. You cannot have that experience from watching someone else do it or reading about it. there is a priceless, deep satisfaction that you can no only in the doing.

It's the same with body-surfing, running, yoga. You challenge yourself. You push yourself. You deliberately disturb your own comfort. You embrace discomfort in order to experience the satisfaction, the fun, the enjoyment that comes beyond the discomfort. At first, maybe, you do it only because someone is urging you. A friend, a coach, your doctor. Later, your own experience testifies to the sweet satisfaction that comes in the doing. Not merely from the doing, though, of course, that is also true. But in the doing. You find yourself delighting in the sheer physically of the motion. Our bodies were made to reach, to run, to stretch, to move. When we engage in intense physical activity our bodies rejoice. We rejoice. It is good.

So do it already.

Perfect Final Generation?????

The notion of a "final, perfect generation", a group of people who finally get it right, sounds wonderful. What a grand privilege to be part of something so spectacular and significant. It sounds wonderful, but in practice it always leads ultimately to despair. Because you never get it right. Eventually you are forced to recognize that either God does not keep his promises (as you understand them) or you cannot or will not keep yours. Either way it becomes clear to you that you are not going to be part of this special group that seized your imagination.

Rather than dream of "finally getting right" it is wiser to simply do today what God makes available. To quote the Wisest One: Take no thought for the morrow. Embrace the habits of holiness--time with God, Bible study, worship and service. Take the one step that is right in front of you. That is all your Father asks. It is the same thing he has asked of every person in every age.

Doing now, today, right now, this minute what God asks is enough. Tomorrow is, at best, irrelevant. It often becomes a distraction from our true calling. We become preoccupied with our failings and eventually lose sight of the smiling face of God.

Offensive Language in the Adventist Review

In an editorial published June 9, 2011, Bill Knott, the editor of the Adventist Review condemned people who pronounce the word "Adventist" differently the customary pronunciation among Anglo Adventists.

Knott wrote that people who pronounce the name of our church the way that is customary among West Indians, this is proof they do not have "a full understanding" of the church.

Claiming that a particular inflection of the English version of the name of our church is essential to a "full understanding" of our mission and identity is an astonishing claim. It is false. It is offensive.

Bill Knott ought to apologize or resign.