The Annual Examen: A Practice for Reflecting on 2020
Perhaps more than previous years, we need to look back and reflect on 2020. This year has changed us so profoundly, and it's worth looking back to see just how we've changed.
My personal temptation is to just say "Whew, good thing 2020 is over," and move on. Reflecting back on everything that happened this year doesn't necessarily sound like a joyous prospect right now, and it's all too easy to shove 2020 aside and try to move forward. Surely 2021 couldn't be worse, right? But reflecting back on times of pain, sorrow, and suffering can be healing and transforming. It also allows us to see how God was present and at work.
How to Celebrate Advent
We know you’ve all got Thanksgiving and turkey and adjusting of plans and holding this holiday loosely on the mind and heart right now. (We can relate.) Celebrating the holiday season feels so different this year. It feels necessary, important, and so needed, and at the same time, I know we’ve all had to face the possibility of loved ones missing from our tables. There’s a very real, collective loss and longing we’re experiencing.
For us, we’re excited to spend the actual holiday of Thanksgiving with some family (which we’ve only been able to do once in the last five years! Usually, Bryan and I would celebrate on our own in California, either or alone or with some friends who extended a kind invitation). Now that we’ve moved back to Colorado, we’re so grateful to be home and among family! However, we still haven’t been able to see family on my side yet, even though they’re only a few hours away. My mom still hasn’t gotten to see me pregnant in person yet. We’re hoping that will change soon, but like many of you, we’re waiting.
Practicing Hope
A few weeks ago I was in a session with my own spiritual director, and we talked about hope. I’ve had quite the back-and-forth with hope over the last few years, as Bryan and I walked through more than three years of infertility. I’ve described hope as stubborn, something that just won’t quit or let go of me, even when despair was lurking nearby. And there were certainly moments of despair. Somehow though, even when it felt impossible, I held onto the stubborn hope that someday we’d have children of our own.
After my spiritual direction session ended, I walked away with this question: How exactly do I actually practice hope? What does it look like to live out hope in daily moments? I’ve been pondering these questions for a few weeks, and I thought I’d share some ways that the Lord has helped me to put hope to practice. Clinging to and living out our hope feels like something we all could use right now.
Lament as Praise
Grief has been a topic gaining significant traction this year, and for good reason. We’ve faced constant change in every sphere of our lives, and we’ve been hit with a tidal wave of things to grieve, be they big or small, concrete or more difficult to define and articulate. When the world takes a much different--and in many ways a traumatic, tragic, disrupting--direction than we expected, how are we to respond? How do we cry out to God when we feel powerless?
I have found myself grieving the loss of normalcy and a sense of certainty, and there’s a heavy feeling of powerlessness that follows. I may not have actually possessed any more control before, but it’s all the more apparent how very little control I actually do have. And while it’s a good thing to recognize that only God is in control, there is still a grieving process in shedding the false notion of my own sense of control.
And then, things that we have already been grieving may be intensified in this season.
Praying the Words of Others
Even as a spiritual director and leader of a spiritual formation ministry, I’ve struggled to find a rhythm of prayer and time with God these last couple of months. Not only that, but I’ve struggled to find my own words in prayer. As a writer and a lover of words, it’s been an odd experience.
I shared a few weeks ago about the practice of breath prayer, which I’ve held onto throughout our season of being sheltered in place. Another prayer practice I’ve found helpful in recent weeks has been praying the prayers of others.
I’ve been amazed at the beautiful prayers penned by friends and shared via social media. They’ve brought comfort, peace, and articulation to my experience that I didn’t even know I needed. (Thank you, Sarah Bourns, for your poem “We’ve All Been Exposed,” and all the other prayers you’ve shared!)
Breath Prayer: For When You Don’t Have Many Words
As we continue to journey through varying degrees of social distancing, sheltering in place, quarantining, and hunkering down at home, I wanted to offer a prayer practice that may be helpful.
I have to admit that prayer has been a bit off for me the last few weeks. I just haven’t quite been able to find the words, and there have been some moments when God has felt very far away. Aside from intercession and praying for others, the easiest forms of prayer lately have been the Lord’s Prayer, those written by others (there are some beautiful prayers being shared via social media right now, aren’t there?), and breath prayer.
10 Daily Practices That Are Helping Me to Stay Grounded
As I’ve talked with friends, family, and those we are caring for in this season, I’ve realized that we’re all making some unique discoveries about ourselves, our faith, and our priorities in these uncertain times.
Working from home or being laid off, trying to give our kids structure and at-home education, making more meals at home and getting creative with what we have available, college kids having to come home to finish their semester online, sanitizing and hand-washing, working essential jobs that place us in harm’s way, new grocery store protocol, stressing about loved ones getting sick or fears about our national and global economy have forced us to redefine our day-to-day.
But we’ve also had to confront grief, anxiety, trauma, fear, loneliness, and lack of resources. Our sense of security and control (most of which has been false all along…) has been shaken, shattered, and scattered.
That’s a lot to process, adjust to, and hold, friends.
Prayers for Anxious Yet Hopeful Hearts
Hey, friends.
What a week the world has been through. As we wrestle with feelings of overwhelm and cling to hope, we wanted to share a few prayers that have brought us comfort and peace over the last few days. Pray them when you feel anxious, pray them when you're moved to intercede, pray them alone or with those closest to you--and all the while, know that we are praying that the peace of the Lord Jesus will guard your hearts and minds (and bodies, too!).
Resources for This Lenten Season
Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, which marks the start of Lent. Ash Wednesday reminds us of our sinfulness and our frailty, but more than that, Ash Wednesday and Lent remind us of God’s goodness and faithfulness. Only when we reflect on our full humanity, do we fully realize who God is and who God made us to be through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It’s through this season of reflection that we recognize the magnitude and magnificence of God’s great love for us.
This season serves as a disorienting rhythm. Lent invites us into something different from the rest of the year.
Defining Spiritual Formation, Spiritual Disciplines, and Spiritual Direction
Spiritual formation. Spiritual direction. Spiritual disciplines.
These are terms we often use at CURATE, because we are, after all, a spiritual formation and soul care ministry. But we’ve been asked some version of these questions fairly often:
“So....what exactly is spiritual formation? And what’s spiritual direction? And what to you mean by spiritual practices and spiritual disciplines?”
Not only are we asked these questions, but we’ve also noticed that some folks use these terms interchangeably, because they are so very similar and are intertwined with one another when it comes to who we are becoming as people of faith. While related to one another, these three terms are distinct.
Retreat, Part 1: Why Getting Away is So Good for Your Soul
I love retreats.
As a former Young Life staffer, some of my favorite memories are from staff or leader retreats at Crooked Creek or Frontier Ranch, women’s retreats at Trail West Lodge, or from church women’s retreats I’ve been a part of over many years. Most of these retreats, though, are packed full of content, meetings, listening to speakers, lots of conversation, playing games, and squeezing in a nap in the afternoon, if I’m lucky.
What I really long for on retreat, though, is what Jesus invites his disciples into in Mark 6:30-32, right after they’d been sent out to do ministry (and just before the feeding of the 5,000):
“The apostles returned to Jesus from their ministry tour and told him all they had done and taught. Then Jesus said, ‘Let’s go off by ourselves to a quiet place and rest awhile.’ He said this because there were so many people coming and going that Jesus and his apostles didn’t even have time to eat. So they left by boat to a quiet place, where they could be alone.”
Right in the middle of their busy lives and work and to-do’s, Jesus invites them to come away and rest awhile, even as crowds are following them. He gives them permission to step away, to retreat from the soul-weary battles of ministry, and rest with him.
Silence and Solitude: A Practice to Try in the New Year
Truthfully, I used to think of silence and solitude as practices for refreshment, renewal, and getting away from people and set aside responsibilities. But they are not designed to make me feel rested. They’re designed to strip away all the distractions, let me see myself clearly, and allow me to hear the voice of God. Nouwen calls silence and solitude “the furnace of transformation” (The Way of the Heart, p. 13). Deliberately placing myself into a furnace sounds like the very opposite of restful.
But friends, I am in need of practicing silence and solitude myself right now. Desperately. (I think that’s the real reason why I’ve procrastinated writing this post…) I can feel in my soul a deep, deep longing to get away from noise, words, instagram posts, unsettling news stories, the world telling me what I should want and have and do. To instead be so satisfied with the quiet presence of God that words are unnecessary. There’s a quote from Spurgeon that has been playing in my head the last few days, in which he says that “contemplation, still worship, unuttered rapture, these are mine when my best jewels are before me. Brethren, rob not your heart of the deep sea joys; miss not the far-down life.”
Rob not our hearts of the deep sea joys.
Miss not the far-down life.
So, let’s plumb the depths and learn this far-down life together, shall we?
Praying Scripture: The Time-Tested Practice of Lectio Divina
The Psalmist declared to have hidden the word in his heart, and that it was “sweeter than honey” (Ps. 119:11, 103), and Paul encouraged us in Colossians 3:16 to “let the word of Christ dwell in you richly.” I’ve never found a practice of reading scripture that invites me to do the same quite like lectio divina!
I was first introduced to this ancient practice while on staff with Young Life, when Bob and Claudia Mitchell led us through it at a staff retreat a decade ago. Their love for the words of Scripture were only unmatched for their love for the God these words revealed, and I was captivated. I wanted to know the heart of Jesus the way that they did, and so began my journey with lectio divina.
How to Pray the Psalms
For some people, the Psalms are a part of scripture that have always felt like home, but for others, it takes a while to get into them. I was in the latter camp. The pathway to spiritual growth in the Psalms isn’t as clear-cut or pragmatic as places of didactic teaching, encouragement, or commands in other parts of scripture.
Donald Miller opened Blue Like Jazz with, “Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way” (pg. ix). This was my experience.
The Poetry of Praise
The Psalmist declared to have hidden the word in his heart, and that it was “sweeter than honey” (Ps. 119:11, 103), and Paul encouraged us in Colossians 3:16 to “let the word of Christ dwell in you richly.” I’ve never As I began to work on this post, I intended to write a very academic post about Psalms of praise—but I find I’m reflecting more on how the Psalms have taught me to worship. It’s easy to categorize the Psalms into individual and communal laments, individual and communal praises, etc, but truthfully, each psalm contains elements of both. Lament and praise go hand in hand. They are two sides of the same coin, in a kind of rhythm with one another, often experienced simultaneously, and they are both worshipful. They both bring glory to God.
The Psalms: Our Language of Prayer
Last week, hundreds of thousands of people were without power and electricity for several days across Northern California. It’s currently peak wildfire season, and in an effort to prevent power lines sparking during a windy few days, a major utility company made the difficult decision to cut power in our area. Honestly, it was difficult not to be frustrated during those couple of days — with all the throwing food out of the fridge (and thinking about local businesses who would lose so much money, or families who can’t afford to lose what food they have), stumbling around a dark house with headlamps and candles, showering at a friend’s house who was fortunate enough to have hot water, having to charge my phone in my car, and being without internet access.
You'd have thought that a lack of electricity would have been an encouragement to enjoy being unplugged and unhindered by the distraction of screens for a few days (especially after our recent post on Practices of Resistance!), but I mostly felt oddly disoriented and on edge. Being stuck in darkness for a few days had a disorienting effect on my mind, body, and spirit.
Walter Brueggeman writes about this idea of disorientation in his book Praying the Psalms. He suggests that our faith moves through three phases: “(a) being securely oriented; (b) being painfully disoriented; (c) being surprisingly reoriented” (p. 2). We long for the security of a sense of “equilibrium,” when things feel settled and normal—such as having full access to power, electricity, running water, and internet. While there are some Psalms that reflect this season of secure orientation, but a majority of the Psalms are laments, cries out to God when we experience disorientation.
Rule of Life Book recs
Five of our favorite resources to accompany you as you craft your own Rule of Life
Practices of Resistance: Making Space to Experience God’s Presence
As we continue along in our Rule of Life series and explore spiritual practices that we can integrate into our daily and weekly rhythms, I wanted to introduce a few practices that have been particularly meaningful for both of us in this season. These three practices are specifically geared towards helping us to discern how our use of technology affects our souls:
Turning our phones off for one hour every day.
Reading scripture before looking at our phones when we wake up.
Limiting media intake to a few hours a week.
All three are straight out of Justin Whitmel Earley’s The Common Rule, and he categorizes them as “practices of resistance” because they help us to become aware of how our habits are shaping and forming us, and how we can intentionally resist any habits or messages that are forming us into something other than the image of Christ. He writes,
"Our world is full of a thousand invisible habits of fear, anger, anxiety, and envy that we unconsciously and consciously adopt. Should we do nothing, we will be taught to love the very things that tear us apart. So we must take up the fight, open our eyes to the way media form us in fear and hate, the way screens form us in absence, and see the way excess and laziness train us to love ourselves above all else. But remember that resistance has a purpose: love. The habits of resistance aren’t supposed to shield you from the world but to turn you toward it. They aren’t so you can feel good about you’ve done for you. They exist so you can feel peace about what God has done for you” (The Common Rule, 25).
Sabbath Rest
We live in a culture that equates busyness with significance. We’re defined by what we do, so we avoid the Sabbath because we don’t want to acknowledge our limits as human beings. We’re constantly attempting to prove our worth to ourselves and to others. I’m struck by Eugene Peterson’s observations about two underlying narratives behind our busyness:
“I’m busy because I am vain. I want to appear important.”
“I am busy because I am lazy. I indolently let others decide what I will do instead of resolutely deciding myself” (The Contemplative Pastor).
Ouch. Stopping our “doing” would mean facing something we’re perpetually trying to avoid—feeling insignificant, unseen, or unimportant. Susan Phillips quotes one of her directees in The Cultivated Life: “I fear stopping because then I will feel regret for the emptiness of my days.” Double ouch.
Rule of Life: An Intro to a Lifelong Spiritual Practice
I was first introduced to the concept of a “rule of life” when I was in seminary. I was taking a week-long intensive course on “Spiritual Traditions and Practices,” and one of our assignments was to write our own rule of life for the following six months. In my ambition, I crafted a list of daily, weekly, and monthly spiritual practices that I thought would impress my professor, from reading all of C.S. Lewis’ collected works to watercolor painting every week, to praying a psalm a day. Then real life happened, and I’m not sure I looked at again, even once.
The word “rule” may not sound all that appealing—especially when it’s attached to the words “OF LIFE.” Does writing one mean I have to follow every single practice for the rest of my days?
Well, if you’re anything like me, then there’s some good news: the word “rule” isn’t referring to set of near-impossible expectations or standards to uphold at all! Rather, a rule of life is simply a curated set of intentional practices and rhythms that cultivate attentiveness to God in this specific season of your life.