Truth and the Heart

Phiippe de Champaigne, Saint Augustine, 1650

Alex Sosler writes:

The rays of truth proceed from the sun, through Augustine’s head, to his heart, which he holds in his hand on the right side of the painting. This image is an apt illustration of Augustine’s thought. Truth doesn’t end in the head but makes its way to the control center, which is the heart. He understood the heart as being central to our living. What someone loves is more important than what they can consciously know or express. Truth is foundational but insufficient.
Sosler, A Short Guide to Spiritual Formation: Finding Life in Truth, Goodness, Beauty, and Community, p. 40

I’d nuance this a little differently. I’d say truth is foundational and indispensable, and for it to have full transformational effect, it must move beyond thought to affection. And, while we might read the painting from left to right, and thus understand the process as such, there is also a relationship running in the other direction, from right to left. It is vital, therefore, for both heart and mind to be fixed on truth. If we love the wrong things, our thinking becomes distorted. If we think the wrong things, our hearts become subject to damage and discouragement. But if heart and mind are compelled by what is true, together, the entire person is transformed.

Meaningful Activity is Hard, Even in the Spiritual Life

While listening to a recent episode of Cal Newport’s Deep Questions podcast, I heard Cal speak about the importance of deliberate practice (it may have been on this episode, but I’m not totally sure). He noted that the pursuit of any meaningful activity is hard. Thinking is hard. Concentration is hard. Writing is cognitively demanding. Reading a book can be a challenge, especially if your attention span has been trained by social media algorithms. Watching a full length feature film could be difficult if you only watch selections from TikTok or YouTube Shorts.

Cal made a connection to a book called Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. This book published in 2008 and was a national bestseller. I read it in 2010.

Csikszentmihalyi had studied the mental states of those who became completed absorbed in a challenging but doable task, which he labeled a flow state. Those experiencing a flow state exhibit high levels of concentration, are clear on the goal, may experience a changed relationship to time (speeding up/slowing down), find the activity rewarding and even easy at the time, are completely present in the moment (losing self-consciousness), and have a feeling of mastery. Professional athletes were cited as clear examples.

In basketball, this is the player with the hot hand, and in baseball, this is the pitcher or batter who is “locked in.”

This concept was popularized and idealized. If you wanted to be happy, if you wanted to find satisfaction, you needed to engage in activities where you could get in the zone, where you could easily experience flow.

Csikszentmihalyi did find that different types of people can enter flow states more easily. But this does not mean that experiencing flow is easy or that flow states can be readily induced. Finding flow requires mastery, extensive practice, and experience. It may be easier when coupled with natural ability, but it often takes time to develop the neural pathways that make it possible.

Flow states are nice and they can be had. But they can be elusive or difficult to achieve.

Deliberate practice differs in that it can be done even when it is hard. The discomfort is the very thing that makes the effort meaningful and rewarding, and, eventually, is the very thing that can move the practitioner from being an amateur to adequate to good to excellent. “Getting better can be painful sometimes,” as Newport observes.

As I reflected on this concept, I thought about my own experiences with the spiritual disciplines. I thought about the feedback I have heard from those seeking to grow as disciples of Jesus. I have often heard people say that they find it hard to read their Bible, or that they become frustrated when they become distracted in prayer. I have heard people grouse when they become irritable while fasting, or sleepy while practicing Christian meditation. I’ve heard people say they like the concept of the service, but then find it difficult to selflessly and gladly help others in practice. When you are on a tight budget, cheerful giving can be a tall task, and when you have an abundance of possessions, simplicity can seem impossible. Any spiritual discipline requires discipline, and discipline is hard.

Jesus described his way as an easy yoke. He said that the weary can come to him and find rest. But he also said that following him would require the taking up of a cross daily, and that being his disciple would require losing one’s life before it could be regained and found. Being renewed day by day can be simultaneously joyous and difficult. Growth involves growing pains. But growing pains don’t last forever. God’s objective is to bring us to maturity, to bring the work of sanctification to completion.

My message is this: if you encounter difficulty when seeking God, accept it. Don’t quit. Don’t be discouraged. Be deliberate. Be intentional. Keep putting one foot in front of the other. Pray. Learn. Grow. The discomfort is part of the journey. If it helps, refer to spiritual disciplines as spiritual practices. Then, practice. Deliberately.

As you go along, you’ll find nourishment. God will sustain you. God will feed you. God’s grace is in abundant supply. You can ask for it. God is generous in giving it. And as you walk the path of faith and metaphorically flex spiritual muscle, some things that at first seemed impossible will become easier over time.

Meaningful activity is hard, even in the spiritual life. And sometimes, it is the difficulty that deepens the meaning, that enriches the reward, that sweetens the experience, and that increases the gratitude and wonder concerning what God is doing, will do, and has done.

July 2024: Tunes

Listen here.

A Conversational Model for Spiritual Direction

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash

For the past five years, I’ve taught principles and practices that give shape to the Christian ministry of spiritual direction. Spiritual direction is a historic ministry of the Christian church where one person (sometimes called a spiritual director) walks alongside a sister or brother in Christ (sometimes called the directee) as they seek to discern God’s presence and activity in their life. Spiritual direction is a process of prayerful conversation. This ministry requires spiritual maturity on the part of the director and a call to spiritual work on the part of the directee. It involves compassionate listening, the gift of attention, discernment, good and God-honoring questions, and an openness to God’s leading. God is, in the end, the true spiritual director.

My training in the ministry of spiritual direction began in 2013. I received a certification in spiritual direction in 2015. That means I have been practicing this mode of ministry for over a decade. When I began work at Baylor’s Truett Seminary, I became a supervisor in our Spiritual Direction Training Program. This role helped me think about my experiences as a spiritual director in a new way, from the viewpoint of a teacher, not only that of a practitioner.

As I’ve talked with others who are learning this mode of ministry, I’ve arrived at a conversational model for spiritual direction. This model is based on my approach and experiences. When someone meets with me for spiritual direction, we 1) begin with courtesy and friendliness, 2) transition to prayer, 3) seek God during a process of discernment, 4) clarify God’s communication in light of what has been shared, 5) discern how to pray in response, 6) pray, and 7) send forth with blessing and encouragement.

The spiritual director and the directee each take on their respective roles in undertaking shared spiritual work. And the process itself can take the shape of a funnel.

Above, you’ll notice the spiritual director on the left and the directee on the right. In between is the conversation that will be shared. The spheres represent points of focus or topics of conversation, matters that are brought forth for discernment.

In offering the ministry of spiritual direction, the director assumes a compassionate, loving, and prayerful presence. They are a spiritually mature person who loves God, and they desire to see others grow in intimacy with God. They do not bring an agenda. In so far as they direct, they seek to maintain attention on God. The director seeks to pay attention to God. The director also hopes the directee will be attentive to God, and through listening, noticing, and good questions, they seek to help the directee do just that.

The directee brings their experiences. These experiences may concern people, thoughts, feelings, or stories that seem significant to them, and could be of significance in their relationship to God. As a person begins direction, many experiences may seem to be relevant at any given time, or none at all. The directee may begin with what is most fresh on their mind. But as they learn to be attentive to God, it may be that they become more clear on which aspects of their experiences in life are in most need of tending in the light of God’s love and care. In the illustration above, there are five spheres, representing five possibilities. Some directees may bring more than five possibilities, some less. And some, on certain occasions, may bring just one.

The director invites the directee into a time of prayer. This time of prayer could include a reading from Scripture, a moment to be still, or a period of silence. During this time of prayer, the directee is invited to seek God. They may notice an experience they have brought arises and seems to require attention. They may sense that God is directing their recollections and thoughts. They may not be sure. It may begin as a suspicion this experience or set of experiences could be the thing God desires for them to consider. Discovery may not occur until they begin. As the directee tells of what they perceive, the director listens patiently and compassionately, interceding for their sister or brother and attending to the Holy Spirit.

As the directee unfolds their experience, they attempt to discern exactly how, and exactly what, God is up to in their lives. They share their story. They seek God. They pick up on Spirit-issued invitations. They make spiritual connections, growing in knowledge of God and in knowledge of self. They consider how they are living, and how they are being called to live. They may be moved to confess sin or practice repentance. They may feel unburdened as they share struggles. They may find that God loves them more than they suspected. They may sense that they are being instructed to take action as God’s agent.

These discoveries take place while in the presence of the spiritual director. The spiritual director helps by praying, listening, by combining the two as prayerful listening, by noticing what seems significant, by asking questions that invite deeper reflection, and by offering the ministry of encouragement.

Both directee and director seek to discern the presence and activity of God.

After this period of sharing, seeking, contemplation and connection, there comes a moment of discernment. The director asks the directee to try and identify God’s invitation. The directee, having articulated their sense of God’s movements, prayerfully considers their response. They may feel called to do something. They may see a need for transformation in character. They may need to open themselves to God’s grace. They might not know exactly what God wants them to do, be, or receive, but they may know what to hang on to and continue praying about. I call these “ongoing matters for discernment.”

The spiritual director then creates space for intercessory prayer. They ask, “In light of what you are sensing, how can we pray?” The “we” is important here. The director may offer the prayer. The directee may offer the prayer. Both are praying together about the invitation the directee has discerned. As a spiritual director, I’m glad to be an intercessor. But sometimes, the most helpful thing is to invite the directee to pray with their own words.

The directee then enters the shared space for intercessory prayer. Director and directee address God. When the spiritual direction conversation concludes, the directee seeks to live in response to God, to proceed faithfully in light of the encounter.

Spiritual direction, like all Christian ministry, depends on the gracious movement of God. Forms are tools. People are participants. Growth is God’s.

June 2024: Tunes

Playlist is here on Tidal.

Shifting Gears

“Baseball is for watching. From April to October I watch the Red Sox every night. (Other sports fill the darker months.) I do not write; I do not work at all. After supper I become the American male — but I think I do something else. Try to forgive my comparisons, but before Yeats went to sleep every night he read an American Western. When Eliot was done with poetry and editing, he read a mystery book. Everyone who concentrates all day, in the evening needs to let the half-wit out for a walk. Sometimes it is Zane Grey, sometimes Agatha Christie, sometimes the Red Sox.”
Donald Hall, cited here

I’m in “knowledge work,” meaning I work with ideas and read ideas and think about ideas and write about ideas and talk about ideas all day long. My work is thought work. I think before I’m on the clock and I think after I’m off the clock. I also think while I’m on the clock. Thinking takes place in meetings, sometimes in a journal, other times in a Word document, too often in email or on Teams, enjoyably so when according to schedule in a classroom with engaged students, periodically while on the phone, very occasionally from a pulpit, and most often in passing conversations. My area is Christian spirituality, Christian spiritual formation, ministry practice, and church leadership. I’m living this stuff, even when I’m not working on this stuff.

The product or result of this kind of work can be difficult to quantify. Sometimes the product is concrete, such as a paper or an article, even a blog post. Sometimes it is concrete but difficult to measure in terms of quality or effectiveness, such as a sermon or a lesson. A colleague, Elizabeth Shively, tells the story of a pastor who, after preaching, responded to congregants who told him “good sermon today” with the witty reply, “it is probably too soon to tell.”

What I want to remember here, and what I want to share, is that thinking takes a lot of energy, and when energy is expended, it can’t be renewed without rest. Thinking can be quite intense. As Donald Hall observes, there is a need to shift gears after long periods of concentration. We need to take a break. Our minds need to wander, to relax, to engage with something different. An activity like walking can help us get out of our head and back into our bodies. Hall writes that we need to let the half-wit out for a walk after a day of concentration. This can take the form of reading mysteries or Westerns or watching sports. It can also take the form of a literal walk.

Hall’s renewal activity of preference was watching baseball. I go with movies and television, and reading stuff other than theology, biblical studies, and practical ministry books. I like action movies and science fiction. I like watching the English Premier League. I don’t have the same attachment to soccer as I do the major American sports, where I get wrapped up in fan allegiances to the Cowboys, Rangers, Mavericks, Royals, or Chiefs. I watch stand-up comedy or listen to a podcast that make me laugh. I go on walks. I exercise. Sometimes I work in the yard or clean the pool.

But honestly, when I do the fun stuff–the gear shifting, refreshing, relaxing, renewing stuff–I can feel guilty about it. I think I should be doing more, you know, work. It doesn’t help that as soon as I’m done with one thing, I’m on to the next thing. Once I scale one mountain peak, my eyes are on the next one. Without fully appreciating the view from the top, and having not yet completed or even begun the descent, I’m already planning the next climb.

There are a couple of spiritual disciplines that apply here. One is sabbath keeping. Another is celebration. A third is confession.

A family commitment we’ve articulated together concerns establishing sustainable rhythms of work and rest. I’m working on routines and rhythms that help me identify my most important priorities and projects and establishing timelines for completion that are reasonable and realistic. When I say I’m working on them, I mean I’ve been working on them for the duration of my adult life. Now in my forties, I’m working on them with greater intention and clarity than even before. I want to work at a human pace. These processes are always being fine-tuned and refined, even as I make adjustments that are bringing me closer to where I want to be. But life is in flux. The moment I’m dialed in, something changes.

Recent initiatives: I’ve built in time each week to assess what I’ve gotten done so I can celebrate and what I can calendar time to work on in the week ahead. Beyond weekly plans, I’ve added a monthly plan, widening the time scale so that I can think about the things that would make me most happy to finish over a longer period. Stuff that comes up that is new and that I know I can’t get to immediately I place under a “future” heading. These are projects that are interesting and could be important but are not urgent. I clean up this list every month, promoting some projects to active, and deleting others altogether, having determined some things are not mine to do or were just passing fancies.

A growth area, I think, is formalizing my shut down rituals, actively putting aside “work” and formally closing down the shop for the day. I’ve got some ideas that I think will help, like shutting off my computer in the evenings, establishing a routine window of time during the week to turn my phone off, and choosing to shift gears in a way that names the change of focus, allowing for enjoyment, guilt free.

When it is the time for working, I work. When it is time to cease, I need to learn to celebrate and release. More work will always be waiting in the morning. I want to enjoy the downshift, and not burn out the engine.