Because of a conversation I had yesterday, I realized I needed to say a bit about the reality of what years of prayer in a particular place seems to leave behind. I've noticed a curious numinal phenomena: places dedicated to prayer, set aside for the discipline of praying such as retreat centers, monastery's, prayer closets, worship sanctuaries, etc., manifest an environmental stillness palpable, as if in the air. If you take time to settle in such a space, the feel is unmistakably one of peace, an abiding quiet. an inviting sense of spiritual rest and welcome. The atmosphere is unhurried, with an order gentle and gracious -- a "light weightiness," if you will.
It seems to me hours and hours and hours of sojourning with God in loving silence, listening, praying, worshiping in the heart, and reflecting on the ravishing beauty and goodness of God leaves a residue, or "fragrance" of the Spirit.and heaven's unity. It's feels to me akin to the Celtic notion of "thin places:"
"In
the Celtic tradition such places that give us an opening into
the magnificence and wonder of that
Presence are called “Thin Places.” There
is a Celtic saying that heaven and earth are only three feet
apart, but in the
thin places that distance is even smaller. A thin place is where the veil that
separates heaven and earth is lifted and one is able to receive a glimpse of
the glory of God. A contemporary poet Sharlande Sledge gives this description:
“Thin places,” the Celts call this space,Sylvia Maddox, "Where Can I Touch Heaven?"
Both seen and unseen,
Where the door between the world
And the next is cracked open for a moment
And the light is not all on the other side.
God shaped space. Holy."
However we try to characterize the experience, I know such experience is real, substantial; in these places the mysterium tremendum (the mystery wholly other) is also the mysterium inter nos (the mystery among us). I knew it in Simsbury, Nashville, Jemez, Boston, and Holyoke, in places set aside for prayer at one time, or on-going. Maybe I'm just sensitive to it, or I'm wired for such resonance.
All I know is such awareness elevates my spirit much in the same way helium in a balloon causes it to rise. I'm calmed and yet freed inside, at home, located and eager for the possibility of being near God with my guard down, receptive. Such places invite me to pray and listen. I don't see it as a battle or routine; it is an offering and a receiving. I sit with my Lord and he sits with me - friendship, but not among equals. His loving graciousness and peace open the way for such relating.
So, I'm curious what you think about this. Have you ever or do you experience what I do in such places? Do you think it's nonsense?
BTW: I hope you know I don't think prayer is dependent on a particular place for it to be real or efficacious. It's not and I don't. We are to pray everywhere, all the time . . . but I'm convinced there are these peculiar "thin places" where prayer persisted, and the welcoming stillness abiding unlocks our hearts and opens our mouths to listen and pray.
3 comments:
It is not nonsense. When I allow myself to be quiet before the Lord, which isn't often, I find a much appreciated quiet/rest that I do not experience anywhere else. I find myself more in tune with God and a deeper sense of His presence. For me, this is a very uplifting experience. I sense the Spirit's work in ways that I do not normally encounter the Lord and His Spirit. Thanks for showing me the way to such encounters. I certainly need more of them.
The "thin places": yes, I've experienced them. One in particular was on Martha's Vineyard. It was a pavillion where "tent meetings" were held many years ago. Apparently, at one time, Johnathan Edwards preached there. As we worshipped, I noticed writings on a beam above: "Surely the presence of the Lord is in this place". It surely was and we experienced a bit of heaven that day. His fragrance was intoxicating; the joy unspeakable brought hope and encouragement to our hearts. Thank you for causing me to remember this "thin place".
Richard Wurmbrand wrote:
Faith lives by continual rejection of errors and continual acceptance of inspiration from quarters where new truths have been experienced.
Once the sun quarreled with the moon. The sun said, "The leaves on the tree are green," whereas the moon said that they are the color of silver. The moon asserted that men on earth generally sleep, whereas the sun said that usually all men are moving.
The moon asked, "Then why is there silence on earth?" "Who told you this?" the sun answered. "On earth there is much noise." The strife lasted for a long time.
And then the wind came; he listened to the debate and smiled. "Your quarrel is in vain. I blow when there is sun and when the moon shines. During the day, when the sun shines on the earth, everything happens just as the sun said. There is noise on earth and men work and the leaves are green. By night, when the moon rises, everything is changed. Men sleep, silence reigns, and the color of the leaves changes to silver. Sometimes, when a cloud covers the moon, they even look black. Neither you, sun, nor you, moon, know the whole truth."
Atheists look at the material side of things and believe they encompass all reality. Buddhists believe that mind is the only reality and that the material world belongs to Maya, the sphere of illusion. But the Bible uses, in Hebrew as well as in Greek, the same word for "spirit" as for "wind." It blows at all times, from many quarters. Those who have the Spirit of God see the whole of reality. They cannot limit themselves to either the materialistic philosophy or the idealist one.
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Not exactly what you were getting at, but it probably shouldn't surprise us that some physical areas are more fragrant with the holy unseen than other areas.
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