I was frustrated. A friend who’s a nutritionist had told me about two separate dietary systems, each of which appeared to be helping me, yet they appeared to be in conflict. I wanted to enjoy the benefits of both, but I couldn’t imagine how to combine them. I went for a run and silently shared my frustration with God. Shy of revealing how upset I was, I chose my words carefully, framing my prayers in formal, polite words: “Please help me figure out…” etc. And as I prayed, I felt not the slightest hint of an answer.
I sensed that God wanted me to show Him my true feelings. But the thought of opening my heart and baring my raw emotions was scary. It took a long time to dig into my heart and speak as frankly as I felt. But I finally said, “$^&&5 it, God, I’m really “#$($ about what’s happening. You introduced me to a really good nutrition counselor, and I’m grateful for that. But he’s given me two valid kinds of advice, and I don’t know how the “#*$& I can make them work together!”
I received no immediate reply, but I sensed that God was listening, and that He wanted to help, but that He was waiting for me to simmer down before He would answer.
I fumed inwardly for several more miles, and when I had begun to feel calm, the answer came, simply and matter-of-factly: “Take this from the first system, and take that from the other.”
There was no divine wrath that I had couched my prayers in purple prose. And I concluded from this that God isn’t terribly interested in our polite, formal prayers, but He truly listens when we really get it off our chest with Him. It doesn’t have to be with anger or cusswords, but He does like it when we share with sincere feeling, from our hearts.
In his book, Stealing Jesus: How Fundamentalism Betrays Christianity, Bruce Bawer describes two currents in religion, which he calls The Church of Law and The Church of Love. Using their own words, Bawer reveals how many Christian fundamentalists prefer to quote scriptural passages that portray God as angry and judgmental, while ignoring Christ’s words of forgiveness and love.
In her wonderful book, The Gnostic Gospels, Elaine Pagels describes how the Christian community was split along similar lines in the first centuries after Christ. The fundamentalists of the time believed that the Bible must be taken literally, while the Gnostics were devoted to personal, inner communion through meditation and prayer. The Gnostics believed that spiritual beliefs shouldn’t be rigidly defined, because God’s first interest is in helping the individual. Based on their direct, inner experiences, the Gnostics taught that Christ was a messenger of love.
Looking back over my life, I see times when I’ve behaved as a fundamentalist or a Gnostic, and how those two factions are still at war within me. If I had to choose which church I would rather belong to, I would, of course, choose the Church of Love. But working out our deepest psychological kinks isn’t as simple as signing a membership card. It’s a battle to express attitudes of kindness and love every hour of every day. And it’s a battle to “make the first move,” by giving love in small ways, and thus open the heart to the flow of God’s love.
It would be terribly easy to yield to the fundamentalist urge and declare “From now on I’ll practice the letter of the Law.” But having tasted God’s love, closing my heart would be intolerable.
I don’t fight to drag love kicking and screaming out of my small, resisting human self. I fight to set myself resolutely aside, so that God’s love can flow through me. In that effort, I find that prayer and meditation help tremendously.
This morning, my prayers began with Spaghetti Mind. I found it impossible to turn off the mental chatter. I did some breathing exercises, and as I felt my energy rise into the area of the heart, my mind turned effortlessly to thoughts of kindness and love, and I found myself sending those blessings to a friend and praying deeply for her. In the inner expansion of my heart, I felt God’s approval, and I knew that it was His love that I was sending to my friend. In that offering, my small self was momentarily forgotten.
It would be difficult, if not impossible, to recreate that experience by ploddingly following a set of rules. The inner paths of the world’s religions work with energy, and with the spontaneous longings of the heart – above all, the urge within us to love. Acts of charity are a sure path to inner communion; they are worthwhile because they expand our hearts, making them open and receptive so that we can receive and give God’s love.
We recognize God’s love when it flows through us. Many actions can open channels for that love – thoughts of kindness, spiritual practices of prayer and meditation, service to others, devotional singing, simple, earthy love for God. Even running with awareness of the heart, while praying for others and radiating joy to others.
There are laws of running, and there’s a spirit of running. There’s a Running of Law, and a Running of Love. There are many external tools that can help us, such as heart rate monitors, state-of-the-art shoes, and Spandex. But the most inwardly healing and happy tools are the instruments of Love.
