The Spirit and Community

A Testament of Devotion, Thomas R. Kelly, The Blessed Community

In wonder and awe we find ourselves already interknit within unofficial groups of kindred souls.  A "chance" conversation comes, and in a few moments we know that we have been found by another member of the Blessed Community. Sometimes we are thus suddenly knit together in the bonds of love far faster than those of many years' acquaintance.

Where the Fellowship is lacking the Church invisible is lacking and the Kingdom of God has not yet come. For these bonds of divine love and "carrying" are the stuff of Kingdom of God. He who is in the Fellowship is in the Kingdom.

For me this experience of community is both exciting and worrisome. Exciting because the Community stands as a potential anywhere and at any time. Worrisome because I have so little control over finding such community.

At least, the control is not one that I want to exercise. I need to become what I hope to find.

Such community is the heart of the invisible Church and the Kingdom of God according to Kelly. I can see this since God's desire is that I would not only find him and be with him, but find his family and be with them as well.

God has set it up so that only when I seek him with all my heart will I find this hidden community. One cannot seek it directly, but only in joining with others who are seeking to follow Jesus.

As I live in this world with all its problems and short-comings let me seek the family you have here by seeking you, Father.  The bonds of love are tied by your Holy Spirit.  Amen.

The Spirit and Obedience

A Testament of Devotion, Thomas R. Kelly, Holy Obedience

What is the nature of holy obedience? "There are plenty to follow our Lord half-way, but not the other half. They will give up possessions, friends, and honors, but it touches them too closely to disown themselves." (Meister Eckhart) It is just this astonishing life which is willing to follow Him the other half, sincerely to disown itself.

There is a degree of holy and complete obedience and of joyful self-renunciation and of sensistive listening that is breath-taking. Differences of degree passes over into utter difference of kind, when one tries to follow Him the second half.

In some, says William James, religion exists as a dull habit, in others as an acute fever. Religion as a dull habit is not that for which Christ lived and died.

Difference of degree and kind in obedience reveal themselves as readily as the difference between dull habit and acute fever. When I follow only "the first half," then difference of degree becomes paramount. I see others, weigh their actions against my own, and then judge them accordingly. Who has given more? Who has kept too much?

When I follow the "second half" of the way of Jesus, there is only one thing to give: myself. Degree no longer matters, only total surrender. When I give the second half, the first half follows accordingly. Where I put my heart, my treasures are already laid. It is remarkable that I can give so much up and not give myself.

How do I enter holy obedience? Let us dare to venture together into the inner sanctuary of the soul, where God meets man in awful immediacy. There is an indelicacy in too-ready speech. Paul felt it unlawful to speak of the things of the third heaven. But there is also a false reticence, as if these things were one's own possession, about which we should modestly keep quiet, whereas they are wholly God's amazing work and we are nothing, mere passive receivers.

Our interest just now is in the life of complete obedience to God, not in amazing revelations of His glory graciously granted only to some. Yet the amazing experiences of the mystics leave a permanent residue, a God-subdued, a God-possessed will. States of consciousness are fluctuating. The vision fades. But holy and listening and alert obedience remains, as the core and kernel of a God-intoxicated life, as the abiding pattern of sober, work-a-day living.

The first step to the obedience of the second half is the flaming vision of the wonder of such a life.

Once having the vision, the second step to holy obedience is this: Begin where you are. Obey now. . . .Every moment behind the scenes be in prayer, offering yourselves in continuous obedience. I find this internal continuous prayer life absolutely essential.

The third step. . . if you slip and stumble and forget God for an hour, . . . begin again, just where you are.

A fourth consideration in holy obedience is this: Don't grit your teeth and clench your fists and say, "I will! I will!" Relax. Take hands off. Submit yourself to God.

Once again I see vision. I must see a life I want to live. I must desire something beyond myself. It is hope.

Vision is not necessarily an ecstatic experience, but it must be compelling. If it is real, it leads to real life. Obedience is practiced in the body, in my society, not merely in my mind. If the vision is real, then the practice will be more a matter of giving in than of trying. I need to step aside more than step up to the plate.

What are the fruits of holy obedience? They are the passion for personal holiness and the sense of utter humility.

Humility rests upon the disclosure of the consummate wonder of God, upon finding that only God counts, that all our own self-originated intentions are works of straw.

Humility rests on holy blindness, like the blindedness of of him who looks steadily into the sun.

Growth in humility is a measure of our growth in the habit of the God-directed mind.

Self-renunciation means God-possession, the being possessed by God. Out of utter humility and self-forgetfulness comes the thunder of the prophets, "Thus saith the Lord."

Ironic that humility from obedience causes blindness to one's good deeds while self-righteousness from pride cause blindness to one's evil deeds.

Humility comes from a continued dependence on God, like a child dependent on a parent.

I have had just a little sense of this humility and self-forgetfulness that brings discernment without condemnation and a real sense of God's work in a place or a life. Because it is hard to remain dependent on God and hard to forget myself, such occurrences are still fairly sporadic. But they stir my heart greatly.

Ponder this paradox in religious experience: "Nothing matters; everything matters. . . ." It is a key of entrance into suffering. He who knows only one half of the paradox can never enter that door of mystery and survive.

The heart is stretched through suffering, and enlarged. But O the agony of this enlargening of the heart, that one may be prepared to enter into the anguish of others!

The Cross as dogma is painless speculation; the Cross as lived is anguish and glory. Yet God, out of the pattern of His own heart, has planted the Cross along the road of holy obedience. And He enacts in the hearts of those He loves the miracle of willingness to welcome suffering and to know it for what it is - the final seal of His gracious love.

Little "crosses" may lay the road for larger ones. What is inconvenient may help me face what is difficult and then prepare me for what is painful and finally help me to stand before what seems unendurable. The lie that often finds me is that I will really deal differently with real pain that I do with inconveniences. "When it really matters, I will stand." This does not stand in the Bible or in life examples.

The last fruit of holy obedience is the simplicity of the trusting child. . . . The mark of this simplified life is radiant joy.

There is a deeper, an internal simplification of the whole of one's personality, stilled, tranquil, in childlike trust listening ever to Eternity's whisper, walking with a smile into the dark.

Douglas Steere wisely says that true religion often appears to be the enemy of the moralist. For religion cuts across the fine distinctions between several virtues and gathers all virtues into the one supreme quality of love.

This simplicity sounds like an integrated soul, working harmoniously between the various parts of a person. This kind of soul attracts and repels people. The peace, joy, and love attract them, but the utter trust required frightens them. I can see why the moralist would be the enemy of such a simplicity, such an integrated soul: they do not trust God the bring rightness within; they think it must be jammed in from without.

These fruits show that the abundance of life and the obedience to God are inseparable, not because of a cause/effect relationship, but because they are, actually, the same thing. Obedience is abundance. I see this most plainly in simplicity which has the rigor of obedience, but the restfulness of abundance simultaneously.

Lord, may my vision of a life in obedience to you yield humility in my heart.  Amen.

The Spirit as the Light Within

Testament of Devotion, Thomas R. Kelly, The Light Within

What is the Light Within? The Eternal Inward Light does not die when ecstasy dies, nor exist intermittently, with the flickering of our psychic states. Continuously renewed immediacy, not receding memory of the Divine Touch, lies at the base of religious living.

I find I use previous experiences as a starting point into his presence, but I see that it can be no more than the calling for "Encore!" and therefore a mere memory. This is why the continued study of scripture draws me close to God and ushers me into his presence for a time.

However, I can also become obsessed with the ecstasy of discovery in my studies and meditations. Although, God lies before me as an undiscovered country, I dare not equate his presence to the joy of discovery either.

Here we have a basso ostinato. His presence is an underlying movement (obstinate or stubborn) that remains within my life. Sometimes I can focus on him directly, hearing his majestic consistency upholding the quips and tweets of my life. Other times, I notice him more through the harmony he produces with other part of my life. The harmony is the sense of working with him. My focus is my work, rest, or play, but upholding it all is the glorious bass of God's pleasure in me, love for me, and guidance in the midst of my life.

It's like my kids who enjoy many things by doing them with me, but also enjoy doing many things because of me. I supply resources, safety, approval, guidance, etc. I find intense pleasure in playing and working with my kids, but also in seeing them able to play because of my presence.

With God's presence at the base of all religious living, Kelly concludes:

He is the center and the source of action, not the end-point of thought. He is the locus of commitment, not a problem for debate. Practice comes first in religion, not theory or dogma. And Christian practice is not exhausted in outward deeds. These are the fruits, not the roots.

Since God's presence is the base, my reciprocal presence is the appropriate answer. Whatever reflection or study I may do on the presence of God is chaff if it does not invite me to be with God. Great thoughts about God or great discussions about God lead inevitably to death and dryness if they do not raise me up to God himself.

Similarly, outward deeds will not take me to God. When practiced rightly, they are what comes from being with him. At a distance, smoke and dust look similar, but upon closer inspection, smoke comes from fire while dust comes from wind and hurry. Outward deeds look similar at a distance, but some come from the fire of God's presence consuming a life, while others come merely from the empty breezes and hurried feet of people trying to say or do something important. When I begin any activity, I need to ask, "Where's the fire?"

How do I stay with the Light Within? There is a way of ordering our mental life on more than one level at once.

The awareness of God's presence does not erase all other forms of thought, but works above them. Perhaps in Hebrew thought, this is life "in the shadow of your wings." God's presence is meant to overshadow all that I do. I act and think with the assumption that the Lord is over me and under me, beside me and within me. When this knowledge becomes intimate, all thought and all life changes.

The contrast to this awareness is the secular mind, which Kelly describes well.

The secular world of today. . . scorns, or smiles in tolerant amusement, at the cultivation of the second level - a luxury enterprise, a vestige of superstition, an occupation for special temperaments. . . . The secular mind is an abbreviated, fragmentary mind, building only upon a part of man's nature and neglecting a part - the most glorious part - of man's nature, powers, and resources.

The scorn thinly veils anger toward God's presence. It is contempt. It is defensive. The secular mind cannot, indeed, it must not accept this presence or it will lead to its self-destruction and the admission that the most important thing in life and the most important knowledge for living life has been left out. Dallas Willard says that believing the world is flat is paltry compared to this blunder. It is simply absurd.

The contempt is a defensive mechanism. The blockade results in a mind that is immature and incomplete. The mind not set on the Spirit is like a flickering light. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. It cannot venture far. It always makes the work slow and sloppy. Nothing can be sustained for long with this condition. The secular mind must often say, "Good enough" to its many projects.

The secular mind is a room I enter in my own mind. This is where I forget and lapse. I love the confession Kelly gives for those times: This is what I am except Thou aid me. I do not want to stay there, but neither do I want to pretend that I never go there.

The basic growth into the awareness of God's presence comes in this way:

The processes of inward prayer do not grow more complex, but more simple. In the early weeks, we begin with simple, whispered words. . . . For the conscious cooperation of the surface level is needed at first, before prayer sinks into the second level as habitual divine orientation.

If you find, after a time, that these attitudes [of worship, humility, surrender, etc.] become diffused and vague, no longer firm-textured, then return to verbalizations and thus restore solidity.

Longer discipline in this inward prayer will establish more enduring upreachings of praise and submission and relaxed listening in the depths, unworded but habitual orientation of all one's self about Him who is the Focus.

[In "infused prayer"] the autonomy of the inner life becomes complete and we are joyfully prayed through, by a Seeking Life that flows through us into the world of men.

Basically Worded Prayer shrinks in size as I enter God's presence more, until words are not necessary. I like his warning of how such unworded prayer can become "mushy" and needs solid thought to sustain it. Otherwise I believe it can lead to sentimentalism or nostalgia.

Words fade as God's presence becomes more infused within me. At first it is an "orientation" in which a orbit God's presence. As I go I then become united with God, not losing myself, but finding myself in him. He then works not just with me, but through me, and I am no longer fragmentary and abbreviated, but completed by his presence. Without his abiding presence, my life is incomplete, not as it should be. I was made a vessel, to hold and exude his presence.

How does the Light Within guide me? Guidance of life. . . begins first of all in a mass revision of our total reaction to the world. . . . This total instruction proceeds in two opposing directions at once. We are torn loose from earthly attachments and ambitions - contemptus mudi. And we are quickened to a divine but painful concern for the world - armor mundi.

This is the being "in the world, but not of it" paradox. I am used to hearing this when talking about evangelism, not guidance. When I am confused, then, I have failed on one side of the paradox, either falling into an inordinate love of the world and its pleasures, or falling into a disdain for the world and its people. Guidance comes first from this tension of keeping my mind and heart on heavenly things, but also loving the world as God does.

The result: But instructed in one point of view of the paradox, we bestride the mountains or the valleys of earthly importance with a holy indifference, contempt, and detachment. Placed in coveted surroundings, recipients of honors, we count them as refuse, as nothing, utterly nothing. Placed in the shadows, we are happy to pick up a straw for the love of God. No task is so small as to distress us, no honor so great as to turn our heads.

Guidance is short-circuited by the wrong attitude toward the world. I live in this world. God lives with me and guides me in and through this world. If I do not have the right attitude toward this world, then guidance will be heard, but misunderstood. God's word will come, but when he guides me, I will say, "God forbid that such a thing should happen!" because I will have some attachment or some anger that prevents me from hearing and doing rightly.

Lord, sustain me with your presence. Let my fleshly mind be ignored and my fleshly life abhorred. Let this world be a side-attraction I can leave behind and also the main event of my life when I seek to love and sympathize with those lost in madness around me. I want to hear you rightly, so that your words will not be a source of confusion, but piece that brings the puzzle together. Amen.