wonder

Finding God in Your Everyday

prompts for Instagram #noticeGod

Before I embarked on my second year of seminary and to debrief from the summer I recently spent three days intentionally in silence and solitude. Most of the time I spent noticing the moment I was in. It slows and focuses me to be attentive.

Initially, I notice the taut muscles in my shoulders, the breeze washing my feet, the mossy air I breathe in. From there I progress to birds laughing at jokes in the trees, squirrels cricking the walnut shells open, and the kazoo chorus of invisible insects. I try to think of words to describe the thin and sudden scents that share the air, and I drink with my eyes the mundane splendor of bouncing greenery, rumpled roots, and rippling light. The intermingled life I’m noticing holds a million doors to God, and I hold the master key, we all do—it’s wonder. Noticing brings us to the doorway, wonder walks into the party.

When we spend time entertaining our curiosity, our hearts stir. Something about that bird’s sprinkled song caught your attention—why? What effect does it have on you? A smile, a desire to see the bird, a wish it would be quiet? What does it communicate to you? Is there thankfulness stirring, or did it make you think of something else? Like a cello string thrumming to a bow, emitting its song, the things that strike our hearts bring forth life because they strike at the way we were made to sound, tuning us to the song within, and into joining the song the Lord is singing over us. It is how our story joins in his larger story.

An example from my life comes from my summer class. Our teachers released us in a small rose garden to notice something. Honestly, I was tired and dubious, doing it because it was required. I half-heartedly wandered over to a rose that looked like a sunset wrapped in taffeta. I felt a little foolish just staring at it, gently touching its cool soft petals, and slowly sniffing the light scent. Slowly my attention meandered down to the artery of its life guarded by thick thorns to the profusion of glossy deep green leaves darkening the background. I realized as I lingered, there was a metaphor for me in it.

There would be no glorious blossom without the support, patient growth, proper channeling, and pure usefulness of the overlooked stem. We notice the bright, beautiful, shocking instinctively. But without the careful commitment to linger upon it, we will miss the underlying messages that unlock understanding and life for us. It spoke to me to persevere, remain committed to the slow process of growth, and remain connected to God.

There are wonderful things embedded in every day, but so often we miss them. Something might catch our eye, our ear, and a flutter of feeling arises, but we breeze past it. In the quick clamor of our overstimulated lifestyles, the slow drift of a cloud or the light lapping of water goes unnoticed. We end up attuned to the jarring noises of screams, notifications, honking, and crowded, reverberating bars.What might happen if we paused instead? What within us would rise?

Practicing noticing develops a habit that cultivates patience, receptivity, and creativity. As we name what we notice what gives us life or what doesn’t, we become wise about ourselves, the world, and most importantly, more aware of God.

So for seven days, starting on Sunday, September 8 on Instagram I’m posting and inviting you to post on what you notice that day on the following topics:

prompts for Instagram #noticeGod

 

Join us on Instagram to practice finding God in our every day. Use #noticeGod to find each other and use it to tag your post. Join anytime!

 

Posted by k2mulder in Spiritual Formation, 0 comments

Still Life for Christmas

As I sit, still, in the curated Christmas décor of my living room, I see in the imperceptibly shifting sunbeam, the motionless candle-powered nativity carousel. Like me, it is locked in still life. In a week, it will be spinning above the flicker of flame, Mary always flowing backward round the center pillar, with Joseph, the shepherds, and the wise men chasing her forward, Jesus sleeping blissfully in the middle. Likewise, I will be flitting around the kitchen trying to turn back time to get all the baking done, while my kids chase each other from activity to activity, my husband blissfully enamored with his game on his first day off of work. 

Christmas Carousel for "Still Life at Christmas" for kimberleymulder.com

Christmas Carousel by Kimberley Mulder

In my still life today I consider the stillness. I revel in it and welcome it, especially after the full weeks preceding.

Still life paintings have always repelled and attracted me. In one sense they seem futile—why capture a bowl of fruit on canvas for ages to come? Was the fruit so special it deserved a legacy beyond its ripe lifetime? What message is there in such common things?

What an oxymoron—“still” “life”! Life is, by definition, not still. It is characterized by growth, activity, and change.

In another sense still life artwork captures, and creates, a beauty otherwise missed. We can enter, at any time, a glad contemplation of these exquisite momentary gifts. Their legacy, born of stillness, is the growth of wonder and gratitude, of seeing the world a different way.

On the wall to my left is another nativity scene, inanimate in its painted composition, but it elicits in me wonder and gratitude, focusing me when I am still enough to look at it—to enter it. Frequently it is in stillness that we can find life.

 “Be still and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10

Cody F. Miller's "Birth of Jesus" for "Still Life at Christmas" blog at kimberleymulder.com

Picture of Cody F. Miller’s “Birth of Jesus”

The flurry of our efforts can bring us closer to death, to stillness. When we carelessly rush about, trying to make things happen without considering their purpose, their toll, their role in our lives, we will fray. Our physical bodies will tell us in its relentless mental fog, high blood pressure, aching muscles, headaches, anxious sleeplessness, and more. This psalm was written most likely in the midst of war, in the midst of trying to save themselves from attack, and in the middle of that, he says: “Be still.”

Is your December feeling more like a preparation for a battalion to go to war with all the logistics of schedules, provisions, and preparedness? Is your body trying to get your attention? Is God?

“Be still.”

Your life, body and soul, depend on it.

Be still in God. He’s got this. Like in the psalm, it’s his actions that protect us, provide for us. He wants to be with us. And isn’t that what Christmas is about? Emmanuel—God with us, infusing our lives with the rejuvenating stillness of being together, of faith. The legacy of the still life of our fruit bowl of the soul is a rioting, wild world around us slowly taking notice, as the exquisite characteristics of our still lives in the spirit catch their eyes. And then the rest of verse 10 erupts: “I will be exalted in the earth,” as wonder at our solid faith draws people into their own still and solid lives with Emmanuel.

Posted by k2mulder in Advent, Spiritual Formation, 0 comments