Welcome to Words from the Edge

This is a site where you can share faith and spirituality with women and men who long to expand their horizons and move more deeply into the wide spiritual dimensions of life. It’s written with the same edgy content that characterised Tarella Spirituality, but simpler to navigate and more tablet and smart phone friendly. You can still reread favourites on www.tarellaspirituality.com

I welcome comments and suggestions. You can reach me at judith@judithscully.com.au

Advertisements

Wonderful to be here

Last week the Gospel gave us a glimpse of Jesus alone in the wilderness. This week he and his closest followers have climbed a small mountain.

Jesus was a mystery to them. One moment he was just ordinary, then he would do something right out of left field, like walk on water or challenge the temple priests or climb a steep hill to – admire the view? Well, no, to pray – again.

Sun-Shing-Through-Spring-4K-Wallpaper-1920x1200Whatever happened there made a deep impression on Peter, James and John. In church- speak it’s known as the transfiguration. Peter, James and John wanted to stay put on that mountain because in a mostly inaccessible place in themselves they knew that they had been part of a “God moment”. They couldn’t adequately put words around it, but they felt its mystery and transcendence right down to their toes. They also knew that what they witnessed went way beyond their experience of Jesus up to that point.

We all have occasional experiences like this, something we would probably hesitate to call a ‘God moment’, but might label as spiritual. If we try to talk about it to someone we love or trust, we run out of words and end up saying “You had to be there….”

This week, try to find time to think back to one or more of those “God moments” in your own life. Relive them and as you do so and thank God for the gifts that they were and are.

Recall a moment of great joy ……communal or personal. “Lord, it is wonderful to be here.”

Recall a place where time stood still. “Lord, it is wonderful to be here.”

Recall a shaft of understanding, a knowing that was like a shaft of light. “Lord, it is wonderful to be here.”

Recall a hurtful occasion, when you were able to forgive or be forgiven. “Lord, it is wonderful to be here.”

Recall a moment when peace slipped surprisingly into your spirit, and stayed for a while. “Lord, it is wonderful to be here.”

Sometimes a smell or a sound takes you straight back to a special and unforgettable time and place. “Lord, it is wonderful to be here.”

Recall an answered prayer. “Lord, it is wonderful to be here.”

Recall a time when you recognised that you were loved. “Lord it is wonderful to be here.”

God is a God of surprises. God is mystery. It takes courage sometimes to trust God’s voice within us. In that moment, like Moses before the burning bush, God says:
“———————-, take off your shoes. This is holy ground. “

And you respond,
“Lord, it is wonderful to be here.”

Judith Scully

Finding life

As a young adult I lived in areas of Australia that geographically are defined as desert. The memory of that time colours my understanding of the words that every year lead us into the first Sunday of Lent: “The Spirit drove Jesus out unto the wilderness and he remained there forty days . . .”

Drought-bush

Moses, a desert dweller in a place we now call Saudi Arabia, would have been at home in the interior of our country, though I’m not sure how successful he would have been herding sheep there. You’re probably familiar with that famous bit in the Book of Exodus where a voice says to Moses, ‘Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground’. Overcome by the wondrous sight of a bush burning but not burning, of a voice that was probably God, but then again might have been an illusion, he did as he was told. So Moses was faced with the mystery that is God at the same time as he hopped unshod from foot to foot. God does have a sense of humour.

It’s hard to imagine desert country, which looks so barren, so disturbingly other, can be holy ground. Mostly we assume the ground we stand on is holy if life is easy and exciting, things panning out the way we plan them, those times when the pesky questions and fears that challenge our complacency are tucked away out of sight and feeling.

Like Moses, Jesus spent time in the desert. And also like Moses, he was confronted by all kinds of fears during his time there. He was facing a life-changing time in his life, leaving behind the safe and settled life of a village where he known as a carpenter. Decisions, even the ones we know are right, never come easy, practicalities get in the way.

How would he support himself?
What would happen to his mother?
If he went against accepted religious expectations would it put him in danger, or would God protect him?
Or, if his mission was a wonderful success, would he get caught up in the trappings of power?
Would the simple beginnings get tangled up in property and bureaucracy?
(Is that what has happened to the Church over the last two millennium?)

Fears morph into temptation. The Gospel writer embroidered Jesus’ natural fears with images of angels as well as devils, with great heights and wonderful visions of the future. Like all of us, Jesus was tempted by the security that comes with a minimum of risk. We flippantly say ‘No pain, no gain’ as we choose the pain we are most comfortable with. We acknowledge our materialistic lifestyle as we put more goodies on to our credit cards.

The desert is religious shorthand for those mysterious inner places that we keep hidden behind the edges of the secure and structured world in which we live. The prophet Hosea experienced his desert something like this: “I will lead you into the desert, and there I will speak to your heart” (Hosea 2:14). On the wall of the Our Lady of the Desert church in New Mexico there is a saying that paraphrases those words. “The desert will lead you to your heart where I will speak.”

The early Australian explorers entered the desert lands at their own peril, fearful of what lay there. Maybe that is the whole point of Lent: to move into the desert places in our lives – and find Life.

Judith Scully