Ian, one of our 2020 Summer Missionaries, shares how prayer changed his life...and invites you to embark on your own journey with the Lord. 

If you’ve been following us lately, you’re likely aware that we are in the midst of a special week called “Living the ECHO.” Throughout this week, we’ve been striving to live a common “rule” in our particular homes and communities, united with one another around the country and world. If you’ve watched the intro video linked HERE, or if you’ve read the breakdown of the rule, linked HERE, then you’ve noticed that we have Desert Days as part of our rule. I would imagine that for many of us, this is a new concept. Well, fear not! We’re here to walk you through the “Do’s” and “Don’ts” of your Desert Day. 

​What is at the core of the Desert Day? Catherine Doherty, in her spiritual classic Poustinia, says the following:

John Paul II was heavily influenced by St. John of the Cross -- the mystic, the doctor of the Church, and the co-renewer of the Carmelite order (with Teresa of Avila). John of the Cross is most famous for his poetry that expresses the depth of human longing for God, poetry that mimics the Song of Songs, and thus invokes the same passionate marital imagery. This depth of longing deeply resonated in John Paul II, not only in his private prayer, but also in his intellectual life. Early in his academic career, John Paul II paired the first chapters of Genesis with this ardent longing that John of the Cross knew. John Paul II began his life-long intellectual exploration of the ache of the human heart, the ache not only to see God himself, but also the heart’s ache to know and be known in personal human relationships. Much of this thought is developed in his earlier work, Love and Responsibility, and of course continues to be explored in the Theology of the Body. I say all of this only because it seems to me that to really know and understand John Paul II’s Theology of the Body, we ought to also know perhaps his biggest personal and academic influence: John of the Cross’ deep, deep ache for God. This piece considers a beautiful poem alongside John of the Cross’ way of prayer, as put forth in Iain Matthew’s book, The Impact of God (an incredibly helpful book on prayer, one that has helped me more than any other). ​

Let’s start by reading this poem by Rainer Maria Rilke:

John 10: 1-10

“Do you despise the fact that you’re a creature?” 

Many of us when faced with this question might quickly answer, “no, of course not. I know I’m a creature.” Hold on for a moment and let the question sink in. Let’s dig a little deeper. I had to face this question a few years ago at a retreat and I ended up spending the entire retreat wrestling with it. When I confronted the question and was in place to be brutally honest with myself, I had to answer “yes.” I despise my own creatureliness. 

Today is Good Shepherd Sunday, and many of us might be tempted to stay on the surface as we consider what this means for us. We might be tempted to remain on the pastoral imagery…the grass, the water, or the rolling hills. If this is where the Lord has you in your prayer, then stay there. However, I want to challenge us to go a little bit deeper. When the Lord compares us, his followers, to sheep, I think he was being more literal than we sometimes give him credit for. 

You and I are creatures…we are literally made to follow another. In our hyper-individualistic society that prides itself on being self-made and independent men and women, this is a hard pill to swallow. We actually sometimes believe that we can live by the mantra of “you do you, and I’ll do me.” The irony is this is pretty much impossible for us. We may claim to be free of the tyranny of others’ ideas and influences, but we will ultimately end up following something or someone: a new philosophy, self-help guru, political or social ideology, religion…you name it.  Just look at social media, which many see as the “great medium” through which we can be whoever we want to be, the space of self-expression. Yes, even here, we “follow” one another: the profiles and posts of friends, pages, groups, politicians, religious figures, and yes, maybe even Dumb Ox Ministries. I’m not passing judgement on the fact that we are followers, my point is that we follow because it’s built into the very fabric of our being. We can’t escape it, and if we dig deeply, we’ll realize that sometimes we don’t like it. Just like our first parents in the Garden of Eden, we have a tendency to rebel against it. We want to grasp at power that isn’t ours to possess, and power that we cannot handle.

What does it mean to be a creature? It means that you and I have been created a certain way, with a certain purpose, for a particular end…and you and I don’t have the power to define these things for ourselves. We can definitely try, but when we rebel against our own creatureliness, we end up at odds with our very nature…at odds with ourselves. Coming to terms with this is a difficult process for all of us, regardless of where we find ourselves on the spectrum of faith. Here’s the GREAT NEWS: in light of the Gospel, embracing our creatureliness in no way inhibits our freedom. Our God is not a tyrant who lords his power over us and forces us into servitude. Our God is good, who promises that if we follow the way marked out for us, it will lead us to the fullness of human flourishing. In other words, we will be full to our capacity and happy beyond our wildest imaginations. Embracing our creatureliness makes us free. ​Perhaps we're in need of a paradigm shift, and some images can help. 

He is risen! Alleluia! Happy Easter, everyone!

A few years ago, I had a very good friend share a quick story with me one time that still resonates with me today, and it’s one that I continue to go back to over and over again. My friend had been praying to experience God’s power and glory in a tangible way in her life. She wanted to see signs and wonders that would undeniably reveal God working in her and through her. One day, while attending a conference, she had the opportunity to pray with a woman who was known to have many spiritual gifts. This was her chance! What would God do? What would he reveal? While praying together, the woman, in broken English, yet very clear words, told my friend: “You want the Fourth of July, but God wants to give you Easter morning.” My friend knew exactly what the Lord was telling her. 

The Fourth of July is filled with lights, sounds, and smells…a day filled with sensory experiences…yet it comes and goes quickly. Contrast that with Easter morning. The resurrection on Easter morning happened in secret, and it was revealed slowly over time. Why was the greatest moment in all of human history hidden from human eyes? Why was that moment not big, loud, and flashy for all the world to see? Why did Jesus choose to reveal the glory of His resurrection slowly? Maybe…just maybe…this is the way of things.

I really believe that our hearts, minds, and bodies are not attuned to real power and real glory. We have been conditioned to want God to work like Google. We want an immediate answer, immediate healing, immediate freedom, and immediate peace. We often aren’t willing to cooperate with the process of God’s powerful work in our lives. Where did we get the idea that loudness is more powerful than the quiet, that being fast is more glorious than what happens slowly, or that being seen and heard has more impact on the world than being hidden? 

Several years ago, I went with a group of guys to the Grand Canyon. I really wasn’t prepared for what I would see. I had seen it in photos and captured in movies a million times, but when I saw it in person, I was absolutely awestruck. Consider for a moment the processes that created the canyon: It took millions of years for the Colorado River to cut through the rock - inch by inch, and year by year. It wasn’t fast and it wasn’t flashy, but look at the end result. We are moved to awe and wonder. ​

Here’s the deal: God wants to do deep work for you, in you, and through you. Deep healing, deep freedom, and deep intimacy with God isn’t usually forged in a solitary moment accompanied by signs and wonders. Could he do it that way? Yes. Has he done it this way? Yes. Is this always the best way? Only God knows. What we do know is that God is constantly laboring for us. Just like the waters of the Colorado River, God’s persistent movement in your life cuts and reshapes you, and smooths your rough edges to make you the man or woman he has created you to be. God wants to heal you, he wants you to share in His resurrected life, and he wants you to experience his power and glory in a real, tangible, and undeniable way. There is no doubt about this. However, it takes radical trust to surrender to the way He wants to do this in your life. Our task is to surrender to God’s work and not to resist it, to open our hands and hour hearts to Him and resist the temptation to grasp for what, perhaps, isn’t ours…yet. ​

Maybe there are moments in your life when God feels distant. Perhaps even today, on Easter morning, the resurrection of Christ feels far away from you. Maybe your life doesn’t look very glorious. Take heart in the fact that God is working in you right now. If you are open to Him today, the river of grace made available to you by Christ’s resurrection will flow over your dry bones and bring you new life. There is glory and power in His slow, hidden, and quiet work in you.

On behalf of our entire team, we wish you and your family a GLORIOUS Easter Sunday!

Over the past few years, I have been drawn into the immense beauty of the Cross. Its beauty was something that at first left me second guessing my judgement of beauty. I thought, “Lord, this is pain. This is suffering, and quite frankly a bit gory. How can I be attracted to your wounds?” After stepping into these questions, I came to understand that yes, there is pain and suffering on the cross. In addition to this, covered in the blood of redemption, there is also a Bridegroom. A Bridegroom fully exposed for his beloved. His vulnerability showed the church what a sincere gift looks like. 

As I continued to pray about the cross and what this longing was to be near to him, I became inspired to express my prayer artistically. This led to the painting which the Lord prompted me to name, “Ecstasy of the Cross.” When I first felt him whisper the painting’s name I was honestly in shock. I thought, “Lord, that is so intimate!” I felt him tenderly remind me that the reality of the cross is indeed very intimate. It is a place of total self-giving. A sanctuary of love that pours forth openly, without reserve, in gift for the beloved. I began to see at last! “Yes!” I thought. It is no wonder I am so drawn to your wounds. They are the very source of love. The very fountain of mercy, goodness, beauty, truth, and all that is love. 

There is still so much mystery to it all, as there always is with Christ, but I think the greatest shock for me was that I came to understand that he too wants me close to his wounds. He too desires my love, my vulnerability, my gift of intimacy with him. That he is longing far greater than I am. 

During this crazy time in the world I invite you to enter into the mystery of the cross. See what beauty you might find in the midst of suffering. What gift of love is waiting for you. Meditate with his passion. Ponder what is looks like to comfort Jesus on his cross. Ponder what is looks like for Jesus to help you with your own cross! Step into the immense opportunity for love that we have this lent. He is indeed thirsting for you.​

“After this Jesus, knowing that all was now finished, said, “I thirst.”  John 19:28