The Color of Contrast

Photo by Lisa Sullivan - Donna's daughter

On Friday, November 21st, some friends and I got together to do ‘lectio divina’. Ruth from church had approached me after reading my article in 'The Banner' magazine. 'My Cup of Tea' talked about some insights I've been having about suffering and how an experience of lectio divina was a jumpstart to those insights. She asked if I'd consider leading some of us in the process. Now, I've been on the hunt for a lectio group but haven't been able to find exactly what I am looking for. Why it didn't occur to me to start my own is a little comical. Karla, another friend and co-conspirator, joked that Ruth was just wanting an excuse to come over to my house and stare at the lake. That isn't such a bad motivation. Maybe this would give me pause to notice it as well!

The scripture reading I chose was out of Isaiah 40:18-31 and only because Joe and I had used part in a recent dedication to our son Reece for his senior yearbook. We borrowed the text that says those who hope in the Lord will "walk and not grow weary, run and not grow faint." I admit, this isn't the the most original scripture for a young runner, but what can I say? Sometimes the most obvious is the most fitting.

And to follow suit, it seemed a good choice... almost a lame cop out... to use it on Friday. I redeemed myself by refusing to read the entire excerpt beforehand in order to experience God 'in the moment' when we actually did lectio, but that was the most thought I gave the whole thing. In fact, my blasé approach began to concern me. This was my first time leading a group like this and I had the fleeting anxiety that it couldn't be this simple; that I should have prepared more. Some may presuppose some old Catholic guilt at work here. The thing is, if it weren't for the Catholics - I wouldn't be doing lectio divina in the first place. Now there's some old irony at work! A complex contrast really.

As a matter of fact, my last few months have been about contrasts... and after going through Isaiah on Friday, it didn't rock my world that the only scripture to stand out was an exercise in that very concept...

"a whirlwind sweeps them away like chaff" and "those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength".

Those words didn't feel profound really- no supernatural thrill to them. I just felt... peace. And a sense of well-being. I was reconciled to the thought that it had been a long week and at the least, it was a nice gift to be with friends and make a cognizant, intellectual connection. Not very much of a leap in my mind. If these words were of God, for me (which I doubted), I figured that there would be some nice little anecdote I could share at the next meeting. But contrasts? Big deal!

What I didn’t know was that - while I was sitting in my home in Michigan experiencing life with friends and God - my sister Donna was laying in a hospital bed in South Carolina experiencing death with friends and God.

The whirlwind ensued.

Looking back over the last week or so with the benefit of hindsight, I’d have to write a book to encompass the depth of vision that the contrasts in my life have afforded me...

At Thanksgiving with family as Joe's Dad struggles with cancer - abundance and lack, work and play, noise and silence, rushing and stillness, joy and sorrow

On the pier this weekend scattering my sister's ashes - summer and winter, life and death, cold and heat, tears and laughter, chaos and order...

I wrote a song recently called Divine. It is about contrasts and connection. I even posted a video on YouTube - Angela Josephine, live from the front porch. (No kidding) It was a beautiful fall day and before playing the song I talk about how the more difficult days of winter are sure to come. How that is like life and we can't just have the nice days or our perspective is limited. I am half-serious when I say be careful what you write. It is one thing to sing - and another to live it. To walk the walk, rather than talk the talk. More contrasts.

One thing I can attest to is that when it comes to contrasts, the very reality of one gives the other focus. These are the vivid colors that mix to form the palette of grace. And in the landscape of this life, I may never understand the full purpose, but have had glances and occasional sweeping vistas take shape and open up before me because of them.

And they...

take my breath away and bring me life
tear me to pieces and put me together again
empty me of myself and fill me with God

And when all is said and done, this is the true purpose and lectio divina has done its work.