“If God hasn’t spoken, do nothing. Fulfill the contract you entered at the box factory, amen. Make containers you promised to tape and staple. Go quietly and shine. Wait. Those not impelled to act must remain in the cathedral. Don’t be lonely. I get so lonely sometimes, I could put a box on my head and mail myself to a stranger. But I have to go to a meeting and make the chairs circle perfect.”1
So says Jack, recovery alcoholic and schizophrenic, to Mary Karr on their way home from an AA meeting. Mary has put to her fellow AA homegoers this question: “What should I do?”—referring to her crumbling marriage. Jack tells her, simply, “You should pray about it,” and then he tells her how.
My marriage isn’t crumbling, and I’m not an alcoholic, but this summer I’m following Jack’s lucid2 advise. I could use more time in the cathedral. How bout you?
There aren’t any proper cathedrals in our small town, but I’m not looking for a building; Jack and Mary weren’t either. They refer to the place where God dwells. Called “heart,” in evangelical parlance.
I’m looking for God, wherever I can find him. Right now, that means waiting, silently, with nothing to do. Which drives me bonkers. (Just ask Annie K; we spent an hour this afternoon talking about why I find it so difficult to know what to do with myself.)
Maybe God—the Thing that is bigger than any three-letter-word could possibly contain—can be found at the end of what we call sanity. How much does the Bible say about shaming the wise by illuminating the fool?
That sounds like freedom to me. Hallelujah. Count me in. I am counted in. Even someone on antidepressants, recovering from trauma, like me. Bring it on. That’s the kind of God I want to follow. One who works best where the brain has been broken. And all I have to do is surrender. All I have to do is wait.
Here’s how:3 watching, helping, letting things grow.
We’ve added to the family/farm: three bunnies, a kombucha SCOBY, and sourdough culture. When we haven’t been attending these members or the garden children, we’ve walked or rode around our hill. When I haven’t been attending my walking and biking family members, I’ve been reading books and trying to write one.
I’ve also been spending ample time in my rocking chair on the front porch, sometimes doing nothing at all.
Here I find God and enter the cathedral.
Peace,
Christianna
Karr, Mary. Lit. Harper Perennial, 2009, 234.
Such a great word. It means “understandable”; “clear”; and “shining bright.” This, these lucid instructions for prayer, from a recently sober schizophrenic. If this isn’t the Holy Spirit at work in the world, I don’t know what is.
Because waiting is one of the most difficult things any of us can do, and it’s so necessary, unavoidable, and we here it all the time, we even tell our kids You need to be patient. But how? I’m learning.
Love your heart here. It’s I’ve been practicing stillness/quietness/waiting/sabbath, it’s amazing how aware you become of God’s work when previously it would’ve gotten passed you or maybe I should say I would’ve walked, drove right passed it. The other day in a funeral procession for a service I officiated I heard a symphony of cicada. I’m not sure I would’ve noticed it in times past. Because of it allowed me to,acknowledge Gods blessing on the day to a grieving family of a woman who loved to spend time outside in her flowers. Thanks for the reminder!