Learning to Be a Responsive Partner

Learning to dance with God in the lead requires three basic, active postures. It asks us to be:

1. Alert — This is a fundamental posture of receptivity to what is happening around and within us at more than one level. It is grounded in openness to the spiritual realities that permeate life and is often called contemplative awareness. The question it raises for us as Christians and as church leaders is, "How are we nourishing our ability to 'see God in all things and all things in God'³?" What kind of spiritual practice helps us most to see, hear, or sense God's movements in our lives?
2. Responsive — This is the most basic command of God in our covenant relationship: to obey what we hear, to respond to the message. It requires a willingness to agree with God's way, to align our deepest intentions and desires with God's reign, to "will God's will." The questions it raises for us as Christians and as church leaders are: "How are we cultivating a discerning and willing heart? What practices help us get the message, perceive the leading, discern the obedience of the moment?"
3. Free — This is a posture of unattached availability to go where God leads. We can be alert and receptive, desiring inwardly to do as God asks, only to discover that we haven't sufficient freedom in ourselves to respond as we would wish. Like Paul we lament, "I do not understand my own actions. . . . For I do not do the good I want . . ." (Rom. 7:15, 19). The freedom of our faith is grounded in radical trust in God's goodness, even (or especially) when we cannot see it. The practice it points to is that of detachment, the work of "letting go" all that impedes our responsiveness. The questions it raises go straight to the root of our disease: "How do we practice detachment in a highly addictive cultural value system? What practices will we choose to help us disengage from its ubiquitous tentacles of temptation?"

Since our freedom to respond to God is so often the sticking point, I'd like to begin here. This is the stuff of Lenten practice, which like all "seasonal" emphases merits year-round vigilance. It involves "clearing the clutter in the attic of our heart," sorting out what is of enduring value (therefore of God and for God), and what is simply a burden taking up space (that could better be given to God). It means getting our priorities straight. For example, we do not have to own what we admire. We can enjoy God's creation without possessing or destroying it. We can honor the grace in matter by appreciating one thing at a time, slowly. We are not obligated to take on more responsibilities than we can reasonably handle. God is not glorified by our exhaustion or impressed with our work overload, even when it is ostensibly for the sake of God's kingdom. In order to live freely, we need to understand and accept our spiritual poverty. Spiritual poverty is our true human condition — our complete dependence on God for life itself and for all that is truly good. We have no innate source of life or goodness in ourselves apart from GodŐs gift. We have little knowledge of what makes for real life, and our concept of the good is often distorted and misused. We can "do good" for the wrong reasons (to show off, or to get a tax deduction), and we can "do good badly" (good intentions coupled with ignorance and haste can be disastrous). Here is a tale that illustrates how initial impressions can deceive:

There's a great old Chinese tale about a farmer whose son captures a wonderful wild horse. The neighbor says, "Isn't that wonderful!" but the old man just says, "We shall see what comes of it." As the boy tries to tame the wild horse, he is thrown and breaks a leg. The neighbor laments, "Isn't that terrible!" but the old man just says, "We shall see what comes of it." The Emperor's men come to town and force all the young men, except the injured son, to go off and face death in the latest war. The neighbor rejoices, "Isn't it fortunate!" And the old man says, "We shall see what comes of it."⁴

The limitations in our ideas of life, goodness, and happiness ought to prompt us to wonder why we cling so tenaciously to what we think we know and desire. Perhaps God, as leading partner in the dance, is nudging us to break out of our little square fox-trot steps into a sensuously free tango. What agendas do we bring to the dance floor of life? Are we willing to relinquish them to the gracious movement of the Spirit? Can we learn to bring to the floor only our authentic desire for "God's active goodness in our lives" (a fine definition of grace⁵)? In releasing our agendas, we allow our plans and dreams to be reshaped according to God's much larger and finer dream. We leave room for grace to operate freely, unimpeded by our small, anxious designs. Our prayers become a realistic yearning and hope for divine goodness in tangled situations, while leaving the specific workings to God. The abundance of God's goodness can be counted on as absolutely trustworthy. But the form it takes in a given time or place belongs to God's sovereign freedom.

We began this section with freedom as a sticking point, but now discover that finding inner freedom requires a prior posture: trust. This brings us back to contemplative awareness. If we are not alert to all the evidences of God's reality and trustworthiness in our lives, we shall never arrive at Christian freedom. How do we come to know God as a trustworthy dance partner? How shall we freely follow the leading of the dominant dancer if we have only known dominance as power domination or demeaning subjugation?

Our inner senses need to be trained to perceive the great mystery that transcends yet infuses what we know of life in this world. Contemplation is "the art of seeing what is real," the practice of noticing the spiritual facts that undergird reality. Do we know that "we are held in incredibly tender hands?"⁶ Do we trust that "underneath are the everlasting arms" and we cannot drop beneath the secure hold of God's love? Are we in touch with Thomas Merton's deepest prayer assurance that at the core of the universe, and against all odds, is "mercy within mercy within mercy"? Contemplative awareness in relation to life as we experience it is a sure path to trust. What is your contemplative practice? What practices do you encourage other church leaders and followers to discover for themselves?

When we are alert to the Presence and free from self-absorption, we are in the best position to respond to God. Yet even here, the desire to respond is not identical to the clarity of knowing what obedience is called for in this moment. When the needed response is abundantly clear, there is no issue. Where there are several seemingly good alternatives or no immediate clarity between options, discernment is called for. Discernment is a gift that comes from prayer, careful observation, and reflective consideration. When it arrives, it generally comes with a certain clarity and assurance, not so much intellectually as intuitively. This is part of the "gift quality" of discernment. It is more noun than verb. We cannot simply go through a certain method or process and be guaranteed that true discernment will be the outcome. Yet a process can open us to become aware of the gift when it surfaces. What practice of discernment do you regularly use to help attune your spirit to the guiding touch of grace?(contined on page 3)