Canoeing the Mountains

October 16, 2019 joanna seibert

“Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” —John 12:24.

A recent Alban Weekly from Duke Divinity School interviews Tod Bolsinger, professor at Fuller Theological Seminary, about the meaning of the title of his recent book, Canoeing the Mountains: Christian Leadership in Uncharted Territory (IVP Books, 2018).

Bolsinger provides us with an amazing metaphor for so many of our transition experiences in life. He tells the story of the journey of the explorers Lewis and Clark, who thought that when they reached the Continental Divide, they would find a navigable river leading directly to the Pacific Ocean. Instead, they met the Rocky Mountains.

They didn’t survive by trying to canoe the mountain. And they didn’t let this obstacle destroy their objective. They had to adapt; and their key to survival came from a source of wisdom that was not part of their hierarchy or privilege.

I think what Bolsinger is trying to tell our churches can apply to aspects of our own life. We have so much to learn from people who know what it is like to reach the top of a mountain with a canoe in hand, and yet accomplish what seems at the time to be an unsurmountable task. These survivors have a sense of a GPS calling them back home. Immigrants, people of color, and women especially have had to adapt to overwhelming situations, and their experiences have much to teach us. More and more we are called to listen to their stories.

Lewis and Clark encountered the needed wisdom from a teenager, a nursing mother, a Native American who had been kidnapped as a child. “She wasn’t in unfamiliar terrain; she was going home.”

Bolsinger reminds us that transformation most often comes from loss, and those who do not have power may be the true experts in overcoming precarious situations. They may be the best trained in survival and wilderness experiences. Just as Lewis and Clark had to take direction from a young Indian mother, Bolsinger reminds us of the wisdom of giving up power so that something much greater can be birthed. This also is a basic premise in recovery programs.

The canoe metaphor is an apt one for our individual life transitions. What mountains on our journey have we encountered, equipped with only a “canoe”: an energy that was useful at one time in our life, but is not the expertise we need now? What does it mean for us to listen more carefully to survivors—survivors in our own world and survivor-parts of our inner world that can guide us along the next pathway?

[See: “Tod Bolsinger: What Does It Mean to Stop Canoeing the Mountains?” Faith and Leadership, Alban at Duke Divinity School, alban@div.duke.edu, 8/13/2018.]

Joanna . joannaseibert.com

Book Signing Wordsworth Books

Saturday, November 2, 2019 1 to 3 pm

Just in time for the holidays

A Spiritual Rx for Advent Christmas, and Epiphany

The Sequel to A Spiritual Rx for Lent and Easter

Both are $18. Money from sale of the books goes to Camp Mitchel Camp and Conference Center in Arkansas or Hurricane Relief in

The Diocese of the Central Gulf Coast

Guest Writer Larry Burton: The Gift of Thinking

October 15, 2019 joanna seibert

“Living is not thinking. Thought is formed and guided by objective reality outside us. Living is the constant adjustment of thought to life and life to thought in such a way that we are always growing, always experiencing new things in the old and old things in the new. Thus life is always new.”

-Thomas Merton

the-thinker-by-rodin-7-facts-about-the-iconic-statue.jpg

When someone suggests that a person lives in her/his head, it is not usually received as a compliment. But the fact is, some of us do. It is part of who we are. It doesn’t mean we don’t experience emotions or can’t act out of compassion. It simply means that we like concepts, ideas, and that we usually seek explanations and connections. Some hint that this cannot be spiritual, and I completely understand. Yet, I want to make a case for the spiritual life of thinkers.

As a theologian, a large part of my life is spent thinking about who God is, how God is revealed, and how, as humans, we can relate, interact, and experience God. (You might think this last doesn’t happen very often, and perhaps it doesn’t, in the way of the mystics.) As a priest, I am privileged to preside at Holy Eucharist. While the experience may not enter the realm of the mystical, my experience is that when I say the words of the Great Thanksgiving, I find that each time something new or different emerges. And when I hold my hands over the bread and wine, I know that the gesture is important, but the work is God’s.

What I have come to know is that my trust (I prefer this word to the more common “belief”) in God is a life stance that cannot depend on whether or not I have certain feelings at certain times. Sitting in holy silence is not meant to please me, it is meant to acknowledge and worship God. Oh, I have had goose bumps from time to time at the procession, or in the prayers, or in serving the bread. I can’t explain it, and I can’t require it. My commitment is to doing those things that honor God and that, in itself, is the reward.

As St. Paul made clear to the Christ Community gathered in Corinth, our gifts differ, and there are different fruits of the Spirit. As a spiritual friend I try to help others discover and live out of the gift—or gifts—they have been given by God. This is made a bit easier as I accept my own gifts, and use them to worship God.

Larry Burton

God's Presence

October 14, 2019 joanna seibert

“When like Elijah you’re surprised by sheer silence, listen to God speaking deep inside. When like Peter you’re scared by the wind on the sea, look to Jesus right there with you. When bedtime nears, stop and review how the Spirit caught you by the hand and caught you off guard with love. Hold these close to your heart and go to sleep.” —Br. Luke Ditewig, SSJE, from “Brother, Give Us a Word,” a daily email sent to friends and followers of the Society of Saint John the Evangelist (SSJE.org).

God’s promise is that God is always with us, beside us. Always. All the time. How do we feel that presence? My experience is that when I am connected to the God within me, the Christ within me, and when I can see the God, the Christ, in my neighbor, I am feeling God’s presence.

When we feel the fruit of the Spirit, love, joy, peace, patience, generosity, gentleness, faithfulness, self-control, and kindness (Galatians 5:22-23), we are feeling God’s presence. When suddenly we realize we were able to do something we did not think we were up to doing, we are feeling God’s presence.

During difficult times, God shows up in the presence of someone who loves us just as we are. This epiphany can take the form of a phone call, an email, a snail mail, or even a text.

It is difficult to spend any time outdoors in nature or even to look outdoors to see the birds feeding near our windows without feeling the presence of something greater than myself.

Gratitude helps us to put on new glasses so that we can see God’s presence in our lives.

Forgiving ourselves and others keeps us from putting up the barriers that prevent us from seeing God in our lives.

Beauty in art, music, the sacred word, poetry, fiction, and nonfiction writings can open up our eyes and ears and mind to see God sitting right beside us—on a bench at the National Gallery, or in the center orchestra section, or with us as we’re curled up in our favorite chair.