Every day I die for 20 minutes

Yes, it's a metaphor. But it is also true.

This is The Meadow, a place to create space for those seeking to be more fully awake and alive in the world.

I die for 20 minutes every day. Or at least that is my goal. Sometimes it’s only for 15 minutes, or 12 or less on particularly hard or busy days. Every morning I face the choice to sit in my plastic Adirondack chair on my back porch and face God. To literally turn my face toward Him and let myself be seen. It feels like dying. I resist. The pain of resistance is worse than the sitting though, so usually I end up with my butt in the chair, blanket wrapped around me, and face turned east, slightly tilted upwards. Here I am Lord, I come to do your will. Or, on more resistant days, it might be just a “Hey.” and then I sit, let the thoughts settle like tossed stones floating to the bottom of a lake. Stone 1: I wonder what to eat for breakfast….Stone 2: I can’t wait to get a cup of coffee….Stone 3: What bird is that?…Stone 4: What if I am late getting Ryan to school?….Stone 5: I should write a post about dying to myself…..

Ding. Five minutes go by, and I descend to the second stage, surrender. The Lord is my shepherd, there is nothing I shall lack. So, if I lack nothing, I can let it go. I watch my breath go in and out. I let myself sink into the chair, releasing tension. I let go of my worries about Elon Musk taking over the U.S. Office of Personnel Management, about my fears for this country, about my concerns for my children, about my husband’s career at NASA. I get sidetracked by angry thoughts for a few minutes. The rage starts to build in me, outrage against each injustice in the news…..Then I come back to myself. Vengeance is *not* mine. It is the Lord’s. I breathe in and out, listening the grackles squawk and titmice scold as Bella sniffs the ground. Take my anger, Lord. Take my worries. Take it all. I trust in you. Tears slip down my cheeks. My sacrifice is acceptable to the Lord. I let go of control.

Never pay back evil for evil to anyone. Respect what is right in the sight of all men. If possible, so far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men. Never take your own revenge, beloved, but leave room for the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,” says the Lord.

—Romans 12:17-19

Ding. Ding. 10 minutes pass. It is time for the third stage of descent, listening for where the Spirit is moving. Speak Lord, your servant is listening. My mind is quieter, but still prone to tangents. I keep returning to an internal gaze, eyes closed, but gently focused without and within, my soul in a posture of expectant listening. I set my worries down at the Lord’s feet. Like a weaned child on my mother’s lap, my soul contents itself with resting in the embrace of Love.

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.

—Kings 19:11-13

Ding. Ding. Ding. 15 minutes pass. Have mercy on me Lord, have mercy. I allow myself to receive love into my hard and bitter heart. I slowly begin to yield to the light surrounding me, allowing it to seep into the dry, cracked earth of my chest. Part of me wants to resist again—why is it so hard to stop defending and protecting myself? Sometimes, my surrender comes with tears. Sometimes it is gentle and full of trust, more like Psalm 86:

Guard my life, for I am faithful to you;
save your servant who trusts in you.
You are my God; have mercy on me, Lord,
for I call to you all day long.
Bring joy to your servant, Lord,
for I put my trust in you.

Othertimes, I am convicted and filled with remorse: at the hate in my heart toward my enemies, at my busyness and lack of presence with my family, at all the ways I am numbing myself to keep from facing the pain of what is going in the world:

Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger
or discipline me in your wrath.
Have mercy on me, Lord, for I am faint;
heal me, Lord, for my bones are in agony.
My soul is in deep anguish.
How long, Lord, how long?

— Psalm 6

A gong sounds. 20 minutes are up. I pray for those on my mind and heart, then slowly open my eyes. The leaves on the trees look lit from within. My backyard is transformed into a magical garden. Birds swoop, perch, and sing. I allow myself a second or two to soak it up before picking up my phone, checking email, checking the news, and getting on with my day. I wish I could linger in this quiet place a little longer. My heart feels lighter. I’m less quick to judge, more open-hearted. Of course, as the day unspools, I get caught back in the drama; my phone makes sure of that. Today, though, I leave it in another room while I work, and soon the space from this morning returns, my heart lightens, and hope returns. I sit here, to write to you all. To reach out and ask, how are you doing?

Photo by Joshua J. Cotten on Unsplash

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Note. Bible passages taken from https://www.biblegateway.com/

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