April 23, 2014 I shared some of my experiences of God with my faith community as part of our "Speaking of...God" series. It's interesting to notice what I've called "God" through my life:
How do you experience God? As I reflected on this I realized my answer is going to sound like physical symptoms I might rattle off to a doctor or psychiatrist. Nevertheless, here goes: My experience of God is always in the moment and is usually accompanied by physical sensations. Just being in the moment or mindful has it's own set of sensations, a sharpness or clarity to things (acute awareness of sounds, sights, smells), a feeling of alignment—improved posture, alert but not fearful, relaxed. Motion in stillness, stillness in motion, flow forward, being in time rather than out of time. But the experience of God is another layer, not independent of this basic condition, but with more of a sense of wonder and knowing I'm not in control. There's an emotional component. Often there are tears. Always there is love. Often gratitude—I may feel compelled to kneel or sing or pray or maybe create something. Or it can lead me to be kind of silly. I remember being by myself in the forest once and shouting “Hi God, I'm here!” As if God didn't know that. Sometimes there's something visual like a blue light but it's usually in my body, a warmth, a shiver, a lightness, and sometimes a bodily fear that doesn't translate into mental fear exactly.
Can you recall experiences of wonder, mystery, or transcendence? Little girl in a brush pile that wasn't really a brush pile anymore because there were all these new little trees growing in it. Anyway there were suddenly all these birds and they were all around me and so close and it was like they either couldn't see me or weren't afraid of me. Another time when I was a kid I went out side one evening with my glasses on and remember really seeing the stars for the first time. I think I felt dizzy and had to sit down. Then later I was in college and there was a bit of bush behind our dorms and a railroad track. So one afternoon I was walking along the railroad track, balancing on the rails, and found myself following a deer. A doe. She stopped a couple of times and looked back at me but then just kept on walking. Finally she turned and in a couple of leaps disappeared into the forest. I remember thinking I want to be like that. Graceful like that deer. More recently I remember looking at my son when he was newborn and it was as though one minute I was looking at a newborn, the next a teenage boy and it was so beautiful and mysterious. I don't know how long it lasted but I was mesmerized.
Can you recall a time when you felt you were in the presence of God? Now this is going to sound strange because it's a negative experience or a feeling of prohibition. But it also felt like God's presence. It happened more than once—and it was when I was going to commit suicide and changed my mind and I experienced it as partly fear and partly resignation—like a child being pulled back from a hot stove or something, I also experienced a feeling of God's presence almost everywhere on the west coast but it came with a feeling of awe and not belonging in that particular place.
Can you share about a time when you experienced the love of God?There's a lot times but I'll just mention two occasions right now: In the first one my mum and I were talking and she shared some visions she had and I confessed a relationship I'd had with a married man and I was sure she'd judge me for it and all I got from her was grief and empathy. Another time more recently I was pushing the stroller through really deep snow totally exhausted, aching and discouraged took me at least twice as long as usual to get home, and when we were just about to turn onto our street my daughter suddenly said “I love you Mummy,” I laughed and cried at the same time.
Where and when do you feel closest to God? Walking down the street praying the Jesus prayer, washing dishes, singing, late at night when I can't sleep, at bus stops, in the forest, or even in the city when I see a bug on the sidewalk (yeah, I know the last one's a bit weird)
Has your experience of God changed over the years? How so? It's largely locational. This is something pagan in me probably, but my experience of God is different depending on where I am—it was different on the west coast than in Alberta or here in Toronto. Then also situational, different now I'm a mother, different when I was at my parent's place. Being a wanderer or stranger and not knowing why (West Coast) belonging and not understanding how or why (Alberta) both are experiences of God. Being a child and being a mother.
Do you see God in the world? Where? How? Everywhere I see people loving and hurting each other I see God. The other day I saw a man really upset that another child had taken a toy from his son and his son was crying. He so wanted justice for his son was just aching for him, you could see it on his face, also his helplessness because there was a limit to what he could achieve by interfering, because even when he gets the toy back he can't take away the feeling of powerlessness. So he's telling him later, “If someone takes something from you, you ask him to give it back, and if he won't you just take it...” and the boy didn't seem convinced and I felt the futility of that response and the man's anger clouding his judgment, and beneath it all this intense love...it's the flaws, the cracks I guess. Because even though, and maybe because, his response was not the best one, it was also beautiful in a way that perfection can never be.
Can you recall a time when you experienced God through others? It's hard to answer this one just because it happens so often. Maybe somebody sings or writes or says something that resonates inside me in a way that says pay attention, God has something to do with this. And it's not just in the Christian faith--I've experienced God through everyone from rock and roll musicians, to Wiccans and Buddhist monks. But I also regularly experience God through you folks. That's probably why I'm here ultimately. Because I'm convinced that God has something to do with what's happening here, in this community. Because being part of a faith community is something I've yearned for—and it's the missing piece of the puzzle for me. I've done a lot of stuff on my own, reading, studying, praying, meditating. As a Wiccan I was what they call a “solitary practitioner” mostly. But when you're on you're own, while a lot of growth and good stuff can happen, it's also pretty easy to get lost. Eventually you need to be held accountable by someone or something. Faith communities are good for that, especially small communities. And you have so many teachers. When people impress me or people annoy me there's always learning and where there's that kind of learning there's always God.
Have you ever had an experience that you were too afraid to share because you didn’t think others would believe you? No. I guess I'm a bit naïve. Maybe because my parents shared so much with me that was pretty out there and I always believed them. Actually yes, there was an experience—not a direct experience but it directly impacted me. I was just going to be starting kindergarten in the fall and it was summer time. Now my mum loved planning parties and stuff and she was really good at it. And making halloween costumes, anything creative like that. Well one day she just got this strong feeling that God was telling her that she shouldn't let me celebrate Hallowe'en. She didn't know why, it didn't make sense, but she felt like she had to obey. She was still on her knees when the phone rang. It was someone asking her to help plan the kindergarten halloween party for next year. So I grew up with this story and needing to explain to folks why I didn't celebrate Halloween. People didn't get it. It was hard for Mum too because everyone thought she was nuts, including the people in our church. But I respected her for it. Even though I went on to become a Wiccan. It's funny though, even though I performed elaborate Halloween rituals I never liked Halloween the way it's usually celebrated, as a scary greedy kind of holiday where there's this kind of mild threat—give me candy or I'll play a trick on you. And the tricks could be mean sometimes. My brothers got shot at once while playing a halloween trick on a teacher but that's another story.
Have you ever experienced God’s absence? When I was 21 I spent five weeks in a mental hospital. The first night I prayed before going to bed but I felt like it was pointless because I was in hell. That's why I really love the part of the Apostles Creed where it says Jesus descended into hell. Even when we are in the place—whether it's physical, emotional or spiritual—that feels like the opposite of God's presence, we find a little “I was here” scrawled on the cement wall.
Have you ever felt God in the midst of suffering? There are two significant times of suffering I can recall that totally transformed me. One was, as I already mentioned, my experience in the mental hospital. After the first night it got better. I remember going for walks on the grounds, once I had privileges, and there were these big old trees, I felt literal reassurance from these trees, hard to explain how. Also from the other patients—a lot of them were religious. For example I remember this one teenage girl thought she could heal me by laying hands on me, and well, maybe she didn't, but there was something beautiful about her willingness to try. Then there's the whole experience of childbirth that's all about life and suffering and fear and mystery and God is there too. The mystical part is that the experience of God in that moment is so diffuse and blurry. Because all at once God is in me and the baby and partner and my mum and the midwife. And God is also somehow involved when the fear really hits and you're screaming and not thinking you can go on and yet not being able to stop it.
What are your experiences of silence? Used to be afraid of the time of day right before sundown—until I started being quiet through it. That was the beginning of my meditation practise. Once I started sitting quietly and watching the changing light I found I started to actually look forward to twilight. I remember farm-sitting for my brother. Their house is on a hill and I used to sit there and watch the sun rise and set. And it wasn't the city so it was pretty quiet. While I was there alone I worked through some stuff. I wrote a song called “Judgment Day” that was all about my perennial fear of judgement and how it had started to fade when I looked at it up close. Because if I want to be judged by anyone, and if I'm really going to be judged by anyone in a way that counts, it's by God. One of the prayers I've been saying on my prayer beads lately is “Turn away the reproach that I dread, because your judgements are good.”
What are your experiences of prayer? When I was really little it was a given that it was just something that literally and simply worked. Prayed for a pair of skates so I could go skating and the next day lo and behold. Said I think we should pray for my sick brother right now and we did and he was well. My parents had that kind of faith though, and they were always telling me their faith stories. Then, when I was a teenager I used to always pray the same thing—kind of a repentance for my sexuality—and started to feel disillusioned that nothing was changing. And I told you already about the prayer in that cold room in the mental hospital while a guard sat watch in front of the open door with a flashlight. Sometimes there is no comfort in a prayer, but there's comfort in the continuity, in the habit of prayer. I realized that in a new way when I started praying the Jesus prayer a few years ago—something about it being continuous, reminds me that God is always now. Not a moment ago or a few minutes from now but literally now, as I pray, every time I pray it's different—trying to be in time with God. Trying to be mindful so I don't miss her.
