A Story about the Spiritual Journey

by Sharon Garlough Brown

  She sighed, thinking about autumn in Chicago. The burning bush outside her office window would become a fiery red. The maple trees at the church would be glowing in orange. The skyscraper windows would be mirroring the rosy glow of lingering sunsets. She wondered if Heather would plant mums in the pots on her patio. Hannah always planted purple and yellow mums in the fall. Maybe she should buy some flowers for the cottage to mark the changing of the seasons. Maybe that little bit of connection to Chicago would make the cottage feel more like home.

  Or maybe not.

  “One of these days, Meg, I’d love to have you come out to the lake,” she said. “It’s a beautiful, peaceful place. Great for reading or walking or praying.”

  Meg tilted her head slightly toward Hannah, keeping her eyes on the road. “I’d like that. I was wondering the other day how you’re adjusting to being there. I mean—I think I’d find it hard to be uprooted like that. No matter how pretty it is.”

  “It takes some getting used to.”

  “Do you miss Chicago?”

  “Some days more than others.” That was an honest answer. “I miss the church. I miss my work. But I’m trying to leave my other life behind for now and trust that God is working out his purposes for me being here. I know there are some things the Lord wants to do in my life, and I want to be able to say yes to that work. It’s hard, though. Change is really hard for me.”

  There. That confession might open up more conversation with Meg. Hannah always carefully calculated her disclosures for the benefit of those she pastored, deftly practicing benevolent manipulation.

  For God’s glory.

  “Change is hard for me too,” Meg said quietly.

  Bingo.

  They had reached the New Hope parking lot. Meg turned off the ignition but kept her hands firmly planted on the steering wheel. “You know,” she said, staring at the windshield as she spoke, “when Katherine led us in that lectio divina today, I had such a strong sense of being right there with the disciples at the beginning of something wonderful. I heard John the Baptist say, ‘There goes the Lamb of God!’ and I wanted to leave everything behind and take off after Jesus. But then when he turned around and asked, ‘What are you looking for?’ I panicked. I don’t know what I’m looking for. I wanted the others to give the answer so that I wouldn’t have to speak up for myself. But listening to that text again and again, I kept hearing Jesus ask the same question: ‘What do you want, Meg?’ Not like he was frustrated with me, or anything. Just that it was really important.”

  Her voice caught, and Hannah watched Meg’s large brown eyes brim with tears. “I can’t remember the last time someone asked me that question,” Meg said softly. “In fact, I can’t even remember the last time I used the words, ‘I want.’ Or ‘I need.’ For so long it’s been about what other people have wanted or needed. Don’t get me wrong—I haven’t minded! It’s just that suddenly there isn’t anybody wanting or needing anything from me.” She turned and faced Hannah. “This is probably going to sound crazy, but I almost felt like I died when Becca and Mother were both gone, and no one needed me anymore.”

  “That’s not crazy,” Hannah reassured her. She knew exactly how Meg felt, but she didn’t reveal it. After all, this wasn’t about her.

  “I’ve always thought it was selfish for me to worry about what I want or need,” Meg said slowly. “But now I don’t know. Today when I kept hearing Jesus ask that question, I wondered if maybe God wants me to think about myself right now. But that feels wrong. I don’t want to become self-absorbed, you know?”

  “I know,” Hannah replied. “But it’s like Katherine said on the first day. We have to know ourselves well if we’re going to know God better, right? There’s nothing wrong with taking the time to get to know yourself, Meg. Besides,” she said, smiling. “Somehow I don’t think you’re in much danger of becoming a narcissist.”

  Meg looked pensive. “So I guess I’ve got to start at the beginning and ask the really simple questions like, who am I? And what do I want?”

  Hannah shook her head slowly. “Just because something’s simple doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

  There. A bit of pastoral wisdom.

  For Meg.

  5

  Come and See

  The angel who talked with me came again, and wakened me, as one is wakened from sleep. He said to me, “What do you see?”

  Zechariah 4:1-2

  Mara

  Mara sat in the high school guidance counselor’s office, staring at her feet.

  “I’m looking at your grades,” Mr. Graham said, thumbing through a file. “If you don’t turn around these failing marks by the end of the semester, you won’t graduate in May.” Mara did not look up. “I know you’re capable of doing better work than this. You’ve been a good student up until now. Is there anything going on that you’d like to talk about?”

  Mara shook her head.

  “I’d like to help you, Mara, but I don’t know how if you won’t talk to me.”

  Though Mara felt the sting of tears, she valiantly fought them back. Instinctively, her right hand shifted to her abdomen, where for a few weeks there had been life. But she was empty again. Empty and alone.

  Mr. Graham rose from his chair. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” he said. “I want to see you apply yourself again. You’re a better student than this.”

  Mara nodded. Then she left the office, shuffled home by herself, and ate half a package of Oreos to fill the empty void.

  Mara sat in worship the last Sunday of September, half-listening to a sermon on Moses meeting God at the burning bush. She was thinking about the message Katherine Rhodes had left on her voice mail Saturday afternoon. Katherine said she was sorry Mara hadn’t made it to the sacred journey group and that she would be very happy to meet with her privately. She also said she was praying for Mara, hoping she was all right.

  Mara listened to the message with mixed emotion. She had expected to disappear from the group without being noticed or missed. It had never occurred to her that Katherine would take the time to call and ask about her. Now she was second-guessing her decision to quit. Was she that easily persuaded by a small demonstration of kindness and concern?

  She tuned back in to Pastor Jeff just as he was talking about how God spoke to Moses. “Notice how things go down,” Pastor Jeff said. “Something catches Moses’ eye, and he looks. And when he looks, he sees it’s something worth checking out. The Word says he ‘turns aside’ from what he’s doing to go over and investigate. And that’s when God speaks. Look how God waits to make sure he’s got Moses’ attention, and then he calls him by name and reveals his plan. Now Moses coulda just gone on with his daily business. He coulda just said, ‘Hey, that’s kinda weird over there, but heck! I got sheep to take care of! I don’t have time to check that out.’ Listen, folks. Many of you are livin’ on autopilot, too busy to take time to notice what God’s doing around you. You’re sleep-walkin’ and missin’ what God’s trying to say to you! Wake up, people!” Pastor Jeff had settled into his preaching cadence, and he was pacing back and forth, his whole body animated.

  “Now I can hear what some of you are thinkin’. ‘Hey, Pastor! If God put a burning bush near me, I’d pay attention too!’ Listen, church! You’re surrounded by burning bushes. God is constantly talkin’. The question is—are you listenin’? Ohhh! Preacher’s meddlin’ now!” There was a chorus of amens around the auditorium.

  “You better ask yourself: how’s God tryin’ to get your attention? Maybe it’s somethin’ from the Word that’s gripped you and won’t let you go. Pay attention. Maybe it’s a friend who’s encouragin’ you to take a leap of faith and trust God. Pay attention. Maybe it’s somethin’ that’s really buggin’ you, and God wants you to pay attention so he can talk to you about why you’re so upset. Wake up and listen! If you get a sense that the Lord Almighty is talkin’ to you, I’m tellin’ you, drop everything you’re doin’ and pay attention! Amen?”

&nbs
p; A four-letter word other than “amen” came to Mara’s mind, and she was grateful she caught herself before she said it out loud. Fine, God! she yielded. I give. You win.

  She called Katherine first thing Monday morning and arranged to meet with her on Tuesday after she dropped the boys off at school.

  Mara entered Katherine’s office intending to pick up some handouts and maybe have a brief conversation. She had not planned to pour out her heart. But when Katherine asked her if she had given any thought to her images of God, Mara couldn’t help herself. She started talking.

  “I can’t stop thinking about it. I try not to, but it’s always there.” She showed Katherine her tattoo. “El Roi, the ‘God who sees,’ right? The God who sees everything. I’ve spent my life disappointing God, and I’m so tired of it.” She sat back on the green chintz sofa and crossed her arms.

  “What do you mean by ‘disappointing’?” Katherine asked.

  “Letting God down,” Mara answered. “I mean, it was one thing before I accepted Jesus. I understand getting forgiveness for my sin before that. But after I said I was a Christian, I kept right on screwin’ up. I mean, bad stuff. Lots of crap.”

  Mara was tempted to divulge all the details just so Katherine would tell her she wasn’t fit for a sacred journey. Then she wouldn’t have to feel guilty for faking her way through it. Katherine could reject her, and that would be the end.

  “But what does the word disappointment mean, Mara?”

  Mara tightened her arms around herself and looked up at the ceiling, listening to voices out in the hallway: a man and a woman, laughing as they passed by Katherine’s closed office door.

  “Disappointment. I don’t know . . . Like someone has certain expectations of you, and you don’t live up to them. You fail.” She could still hear laughter.

  “And what are God’s expectations for you?” Katherine asked.

  “That I would be good. That I’d do things the right way. That I’d be faithful, you know? That I would be like Jesus. And I’m not. So it’s like I’ve let God down. And I hate that feeling. It absolutely sucks.” The hallway was hushed again, and all Mara could hear was the steady tick of Katherine’s wall clock.

  They shared the silence for a while. “What would you say if I told you it’s impossible to disappoint God?” Katherine finally asked.

  Mara laughed cynically. “I wouldn’t believe you.”

  Katherine smiled with compassion. “But what does God know about you, Mara?”

  Was that a trick question?

  “Everything,” Mara sighed. “That’s the problem. I can’t hide anything. He sees all my crap. Constantly.”

  Katherine never broke eye contact, and the intensity of her gaze made Mara feel vulnerable and exposed. “You’re right that God knows everything about you,” Katherine said gently. “God knows your weaknesses. Your frailty. Your imperfections. Your sin. Your humanity. And if nothing about you takes God by surprise, what expectations are you disappointing?”

  Mara didn’t reply. She wasn’t sure.

  “The only way you could disappoint God, Mara, would be if God had an unrealistic, idealized view of you. And God does not.” Mara shifted position on the couch. “There are many things the Lord desires for us,” Katherine went on slowly. “Many things. But his desires for us are rooted in his love and longing for us. Not in disappointment and condemnation.”

  “But if you knew the details about my sin, Katherine. If you knew about all my crap . . . ”

  Katherine said, “Tell me.”

  So Mara told her.

  For the next hour she told her everything that came to mind: all the lurid details, all the shame, all the guilt, all the regret. Everything. She poured it out in colorful language with no attempt to edit, diminish, or conceal.

  Katherine’s eyes filled with tears as she listened, and her voice was low whenever she said, “Oh, my dear, dear child.”

  Mara finished telling her story and uncrossed her arms. “See?” she asked, wiping her face with her sleeve. Katherine handed her a tissue.

  “I do see, Mara.” Katherine’s sapphire eyes welcomed Mara into healing pools. “The Lord also sees. El Roi is the God who sees you—who sees every detail of your life without condemning or accusing you. God’s eyes are filled with tenderness and compassion. And El Roi watches over your life with far more love than you can possibly comprehend.”

  Mara stared at the tattoo. “Then why can’t I get rid of the guilt?” she asked softly.

  Katherine didn’t speak for a long time, and Mara began to wonder what she was thinking. Maybe she was going to tell Mara she wasn’t fit for a sacred journey after all. Maybe there was a different group for remedial Christians that Katherine would recommend. She braced herself for the verdict.

  “You can’t get rid of the guilt, dear one, because you’re listening to the wrong voice and calling it the Spirit of God.”

  That wasn’t the answer Mara had anticipated. “Whaddya mean?” she asked, mildly relieved that Katherine hadn’t rejected her. Yet.

  “You’ve turned to face your sin, Mara. You’ve had the courage to look at it, name it, and call it what it is. It’s an offense against a holy God. But that’s where you’ve stayed stuck. Instead of turning to face God to receive forgiveness, you’ve continued to stare at your sin and punish yourself. You’ve listened to the enemy’s voice, accusing and belittling and shaming you, telling you that you’ve gone too far, telling you that you’ve gone beyond grace and that you need to make yourself right before you can turn back to God.”

  It was true. Mara was afraid to face God: afraid of judgment, afraid of rejection, afraid of condemnation.

  Afraid.

  “You can only turn to face God and receive his gifts when you’re convinced that God is love,” Katherine said.

  Mara stared at her shoes. “I don’t even know what love looks like.” Her voice cracked with emotion as Katherine reached for her hand.

  “I know, dear one. I know.” The tenderness in Katherine’s voice caused Mara to tear up again.

  “So what am I supposed to do?” Mara asked. “How am I ever gonna get anywhere?”

  Katherine leaned forward, clasping her hands together. “Start looking at Jesus,” she said, smiling soothingly. “Start reading the stories of Jesus interacting with people just like you. Imagine yourself right in the middle of the story, experiencing grace, receiving forgiveness, seeing love. Let everything you see about Jesus begin to reshape your image of God and your image of yourself. God is love, Mara. And you are chosen, accepted, loved, forgiven, and treasured. That’s how El Roi sees you. You are God’s beloved.”

  Mara shook her head. “That’s not the way I see myself.”

  “I know,” Katherine said kindly. “But the Spirit of God is moving. The Holy Spirit is hovering over your life, speaking the words, ‘Let there be!’ And when the Spirit speaks those words of power—well, it’s a whole new creation, isn’t it?”

  Hannah

  Mara was standing in the threshold of Katherine’s office when Hannah arrived for her spiritual direction appointment. “Hey, Mara! We missed you on Saturday.”

  “Thanks.” Mara fiddled with one of several oversized, brightly-colored bangle bracelets. “Katherine let me have a private session.”

  “I’m here for one of those myself,” said Hannah, tucking her hair behind her ears.

  Katherine appeared in the doorway, smiling. “I remember you two sat together at the back corner table the first week.”

  “Yeah—the Sensible Shoes Club,” said Mara, still fiddling with her jewelry. “Poor Meg in her high heels. Did she come back for round two?”

  “She did,” Hannah replied. “In fact, I’m supposed to meet her here in an hour or so at the labyrinth.” She hesitated a moment. “You’re welcome to walk with us, Mara.”

  Mara stared at her feet. “You know,” she said slowly, “I was gonna run some errands and get some things done before the boys get home from school . . . b
ut maybe that can wait.” She looked at Katherine. “I’ve got tons of stuff to think about, don’t I?”

  “If you’d rather be inside while you wait,” Katherine answered, “we’ve got a beautiful chapel.”

  “Sounds like a plan!” Mara reached into her large embroidered bag and pulled out a notebook and a small Bible. “Ha! Never bothered to take ’em out after the first class. Guess I’m good to go!” She turned to Hannah. “I’ll see you guys out there. Thanks. Thanks for inviting me.” Then she headed down the hallway, jingling as her chains, charms, and beads jostled together.

  Hannah sank into the sofa across from Katherine’s tidy desk. For the first time since arriving in Michigan, Hannah felt a sense of kinship with space. Katherine’s office was filled with potted plants, soft lamplight, and shelves stacked with books—not only theological and devotional works, but poetry, contemporary novels, and classical literature. Hannah saw some of her own favorite authors alongside names she didn’t recognize. She wished she could spend hours browsing.

  Just as she was thinking about how much she missed her office and her life, her eyes fell upon the Serenity Prayer framed on the wall: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.”

  Help, Lord, she sighed.

  Katherine took a single pillar candle from her desk and set it on the coffee table between them. “We light the Christ candle to remind us that we are in the presence of the Holy One,” she said, blowing out the match as she sat down in an armchair and closed her eyes in prayer. “Jesus Christ, Light of the World, come and light the dark corners of our lives. Where we are blind, grant us sight. Where we stumble in darkness, illumine our path. Quiet us with your love, and enable us to hear your still, small voice. For you are our dear friend, Lord, and we long to be fully present to you.”