Discerning Your Path

Ignatian Discernment, Peace of God

Guest Writer Lowell Grisham

We recently observed the Feast Day of St. Ignatius on July 31.

Loyola Jesuit Institute

No one has done more work on the discipline of discernment than the Jesuits, the monastic descendants of Ignatius of Loyola. Although I can’t recall who taught it to me, for many years, I’ve used an Ignatian discernment method from time to time when I’ve faced a choice between two options. Here’s the way someone gave it to me:

wwwjuesiuteast.org

In a battle in the early 1500s, Ignatius was seriously wounded. (I believe an artillery shell shattered his leg.) He spent months of painful convalescence. However, he found that his pain was sometimes relieved when he went into periods of active imagination.

He imagined his life when he was healed and released from the hospital. He made up stories about his future life, using all his senses to place himself in the future. He created scenes from his imagined future and experienced them vividly—with sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell—thinking and feeling what his alternative life might be. 

Whenever Ignatius was actively imagining, his pain decreased, and the time seemed to pass more quickly. He discovered that his imagination gravitated toward two narratives. In one narrative, he would experience becoming a great, chivalrous knight, doing valiant deeds of courage, and winning the hand of a noble maiden. In the other narrative, he would experience becoming a knight for Christ, boldly taking the gospel into the most remote, challenging, or needed places.

While in active imagination, Ignatius experienced relief with either narrative. But he noticed a significant difference in where his spirit went afterward, when he was just taking care of business in a normal state of consciousness.

He noticed in the hours following his narratives about becoming a noble warrior knight that he experienced a sense of turbulence, discomfort, and even desolation. But he became aware in the hours following his imagining of becoming a knight for Christ that he experienced a sense of consolation, harmony, and peace.

Ignatius interpreted the sense of peace as the presence of God, drawing him into God’s will for him and helping him discern the direction of his future. So, he embraced the vision of that second narrative and became a noble knight for Christ, seeking to undertake his most outstanding service possible to the Church and the world.

The presence of peace is a sign of God’s will. In the chaos and storm of a decision, I sometimes use a form of Ignatian discernment practice when there are two potential options or directions. First, I’ll set the two options before me. Then, one day, I will spend some time actively imagining myself living in the first option, using all five senses to create scenes from that future possibility.

Then, I will go about my regular daily activity, but I’ll keep a bit of attention directed to notice where my spirit goes. Another day, I’ll spend time in active imagination, living with the other option. Then, I will pay attention to my spirit, mood, and intuition during my daily ordinary work. What after-effect is there following each separate scenario?

If I sense some form of consolation and peace in the ordinary time following active imagination with one narrative, and if I perceive turbulence in the ordinary time following imagination with the other narrative, I’ll accept that as a sign of God’s will. The presence of peace is the key. 

Where does the peace of Christ lead us, especially when our boat seems tossed and we’ve lost control of our direction? A sense of peace can give direction toward God’s will for us and for the maximum exercise of our creativity, courage, freedom, and service. Sometimes, a little active imagination can lead us toward discernment.

Lowell Grisham

I use this in my life to discern directions for ministry and offer it to others discerning a path on this journey. It was loaned to me by Lowell Grisham, retired Rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas.

Joanna https://www.joannaseibert.com/

New Day, Milestones

New Day, Milestones, Synchronicity

“Waking up this morning, I smile.
Twenty-four brand new hours are before me.
I vow to live fully in each moment
and to look at all beings with eyes of compassion.” 
—Thich Nhat Hanh in The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching (Broadway Books, 1998), p. 102.

Richard Rohr compares Christians and Buddhists in his daily email. “Christians are usually talking about metaphysics (‘what is’), and Buddhists are usually talking about epistemology (‘how do we know what is’). In that sense, they offer great gifts to one another.” 1

Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh’s writings often speak to me. What a marvelous idea to wake up in the morning and say, “We have twenty-four brand new hours before us. I don’t want to waste a second, a minute, or an hour. It is a new day.”

Graduations are milestone marks of the beginning of a new day. But we also can experience a new day every day.

Yesterday is past. We reviewed what we had done and left undone the night before, when we prayed for God to forgive us of our wrongdoing, also referred to as sins. We remembered where we found joy, often where we least expected it. We recalled where we found love. We remembered the day’s experiences in which we saw God working in our lives.

new day

This is an extra day, a new beginning. We can no longer regret the past. If we have harmed others, we will make living amends where we need to, but today, we are offered a fresh start. We hope we have learned from the past. We will not continue doing the same thing every day and expect different results. Instead, we will look for synchronicity, moments, or serendipity in which we make connections and see how events are related.

One morning, I write about the Eucharist, and someone, unaware of my previous thoughts, later confides in me how important the Eucharist is in their life. We receive a message from a friend we have been thinking about that day. We think about someone we haven't seen in a long time. Later, that person calls. She tells us what we did or said was precisely what she needed at the time. That is synchronicity. These are God connections, constantly around us each new day.

1 Richard Rohr, Center for Action and Contemplation, Meditation: Mindfulness, cac.org, August 24, 2018.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Tangier Island, losing its margins

Tangier Island

“‘The margins, Nathan,’ he said when he started speaking again. ‘That’s what we’re losing. We’re losing the churches on the margins. We aren’t doing enough for them.’”—Loren Mead to Nathan Kirkpatrick at faithandleadership.com.

Tangier Island is a disappearing island in the Chesapeake Bay, located twelve miles equidistant from both the Maryland and Virginia coasts, losing up to sixteen feet of its coastline annually due to rising sea levels resulting from global warming and soil erosion. The government believes the island will become uninhabitable for the over 500 people living there within twenty to thirty years. In fifty years, the island will be completely underwater.

The local islanders speak a dialect described as unique, combining elements of Elizabethan British and a southern drawl. They are primarily fishers of oyster and crab year-round, and tourist guides in the summer. The 1.2-square-mile island is steeped in religious tradition and completely shuts down on Sunday mornings.

Nathan Kirkpatrick, writing in the Duke Divinity School Leadership Education Center Alban Weekly (June 26, 2018), recalls the above conversation with Loren Mead, the founding director of the Alban Institute, who compared the Church to Tangier Island. What does Dr. Mead mean by saying the Church is “losing its margins?”

Is he telling us the Church is shrinking because it is not paying attention to people on the fringes or margins of society—the poor, the weak, the hungry, the homeless, the tired, the sick, those who are the most different from ourselves? In the larger scheme, is he referring to our neighbors who border us that we do not care about? Our call to service comes from these margins. Through our prayer life, we hear that call.

I remember one of my favorite quotes from Bishop Barbara Harris: “The Church is like an oriental rug. Its fringes are what make it most beautiful.” This is our call to bring the needs of the world to the church.

In spiritual direction, I also ask people how the story of Tangier Island might relate to the care of their soul. There are so many possible answers.

One question is, “Do you ever feel your soul shrinking? Do you feel you are losing the margins, the borders, the uniqueness, the most inspiring and possibly the most interesting parts of your soul, the God, the Christ within you?” Many causes contribute to this: a lack of time for silence or prayer, becoming too busy, a loss of priorities, or straying from only the fringes without being led by the Spirit in prayer, or when we stop being connected to community.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/