The Mighty Soaring Eagle:

After Meister Eckhart:




















John the Evangelist,
Was a mighty soaring eagle
Whose concern
Was to trust us with Christ’s Divinity
And the mystery of the Trinity,
In the beginning was the Word.
What proceeds from the Father’s Essence
Is the Son of His source. He is
Other in person, but
Not other in nature,
The Essence made present
The Radiance of the Father.
The Son Who is the Word
Is in the essence what the Father is.
In the beginning was the Word,
And the Word was with God
That the Word might proceed from God,
And the Word was God
And The Word is God
In the flesh, and
In Him was life, and the
Life was the light of men, no rather,
In Him is life, and that Life
Is the light of men.

The Unitive Experience: A Personal Reflection

While I do not “feel” God all the time I acknowledge that when I turn my gaze toward Him most often His Presence comes rushing in. I have always attributed that to the experience of the Holy Spirit six weeks after my conversion. It was an experience of complete abandonment in the Presence of God. It came unsought, pure infused grace after a year of wrestling with purgation. Infused grace is that grace which comes as pure gift, poured on one seemingly without conscious preparation. Purgation is a season of self-discovery under the tutelage of the Holy Spirit and ends in penitence and confession.

The purgative stage was cyclical and I was through sorrow and the experience of guilt and alienation from God gradually led to such a place of self-awareness that I abandoned all and cast myself in utter trust on the mercy and love of God. The moment of surrender and final confession opened a door into an immediate sense of the Presence of God without guilt, and without recrimination.

I had no words for the deeper experience that came six weeks later. Eventually Charismatic theology and the words of Scripture would identify the experience as the Baptism with the Holy Spirit. Such an identification however falls short in understanding the essence of the encounter. An older theology would have understood it as an experience of being rapt in God that issued in a sense of being at unity with God, of oneness, a lostness in the enrapturing Presence that for those moments removed me from all awareness of my surroundings and held me tossed to and fro in the ocean of God’s boundless love. The circumstances are not as important as the event itself. It happened in the midst of a superficial community that was accepting at least that such things could and should happen. But the experience itself was intensely personal and removed me emotionally, spiritually, and it seemed physically from the community itself.

Basically such an experience is word based and perhaps even the result of acquired grace. For me the experience was preceded by avid and disciplined reading of the New Testament and by exposure to the psalms, particularly expressions like the old Scot’s Psalter tune for Psalm 42, “As pants the heart for cooling streams When heated in the chase, So longs my soul, O God, for Thee, And Thy refreshing grace.”

Some of the mystics would have identified it as an experience of initiatory grace. Initiatory grace is that grace we sometimes experience at the very beginning of our spiritual journey giving us a foretaste of spiritual delights and drawing us on into disciplines that prepare us for acquired grace. Although acquired grace is itself a gift, it is experientially the immersion in the Presence that comes in response to quiet discipline.

Certainly it was initiatory grace, but it marked me forever and left within me a spiritual and emotional receptor, a doorway for the Presence of God. It had nothing to do with worthiness. “I am not worthy that You should come under my roof, but speak the word only and Your servant shall be healed.” To my sorrow and occasional confusion I grieve that I am so slow in responding obedience, but I hasten to add that whatever obedience I have is responsive by nature. The experience left me with a sense of unity with God that fades and then is renewed in the ebb and flow of my experience of God’s love and grace in rhythm with my ongoing process of self-discovery and penitence. The experience of unity with God has also marked me with a willingness for abandonment with God. I would not want to be tempted to abandon the experience of the Presence which comes as pure gift, even in those times when on the surface it seems to be acquired grace.

I have had dark nights of the soul since then, some of them unsought, some blundered into. What I have learned is that God loves me, in tune, out of tune, at all times and delights to have me know that love. His love precedes and transcends my transformation. The issues of the human soul move very slowly and God will not await our timing but takes us to His bosom, as we are, in transition, in partial and sometimes inadequate, very inadequate states of sanctification. That is what the blood of Christ is for, cleansing and purifying even as it makes this union with God a possibility.

I am at a loss to describe the experience of His Presence. I feel enveloped. I would say I feel loved, but how does one feel loved? To be sure it is subjective, but nonetheless it is so persistent and sometimes so pervasive that it cannot be denied. It is Divine hands upon my shoulders, Divine breath breathed deeply in. It is comfort, peace, and at times physical warmth. It is more than subjective. It is an inner knowing, a receiving of the immanent God, “a golden breathable medium.” I relax into it and am still. I pick up the Scripture or my Psalter, or a book written by another child of God and feel the Presence spilling from the pages into my very soul. I pick up my pen and write, or write even on the computer knowing all the time that He is with me. I experience Him with the same clarity that I experience the others whom I love.

I acknowledge that it is not something that I have done although on another level I have allowed myself to thirst for Him and for His Presence. How should it be otherwise? The words of an old hymn come back, “I sought the Lord and afterward I knew He moved my soul to seeking Him seeking me.” At times I have hesitated. At other times I have drifted away. But, by grace, in the final analysis I respond to Him with the words of Peter, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

UNNECESSARY BURDEN BEARING

There are times when the burdens seem overwhelming, and those are the very times when one looks down and discovers that one is up to old tricks. No doubt that is why in the evening psalm You remind me, “I am a man who has no strength…I am shut in so that I cannot escape … I am helpless” (Psalm 88:4, 8, 15 ESV).

Once through the first big death in the midst of life, smaller deaths are easier. That is why I am glad to release not just the past, but also the future and the present to You. What is amazing is that You say that Your burden is light. You are glad to share the burden with me, but when I am overwhelmed it is because I have forgotten and am trying to carry it all by myself.


Matthew 11:28-30 ESV “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

CHIVALRY

"Cast away, then, all cowardice out of thine heart,
and with knightly valour ride with me in the lists:
for it becomes not the squire to hesitate,
where his lord goes forward with gallantry and courage.
. . .
No vicarious atonement, then,
will satisfy the instinct of the true lover of reality.
He desires life with all its accidents and misfortunes:
the high heroic life of the chivalry of God."[1]
. . .
My Lord,
so often have I gone out with thee into the lists
not knowing wither I go,
sometimes armed and sometimes not,
sometimes consciously to do battle,
sometimes oblivious of the battle at hand.
Lord, I recognize the lists
as one of the themes of my life.
I praise Thee,
that has called me,
and kept me company.
. . .
Now my liege Lord
I place upon me the panoply of God:
I gird my loins with truth and integrity
and place upon my chest the breastplate
of Your righteousness.
My feet are shod with the Gospel of peace
and I stand ready to bear witness to You
in the midst of the fray.
I hold secure the shield of faith,
its colors the red of your shed blood
its white the purity you purchased for me,
its insignia the rampant Lion and the Lamb.
I fear not the fiery darts of the wicked one.
On my head I place the helm of salvation
its golden plume the sign of
Your victory over death and the grave.
In my hand I grasp the blade of the Spirit
which is the Word of God
sharper than any two-edged sword
piercing even to the division of soul and spirit,
joints and marrow.

My liege Lord
I stand by your side.
I hear the rumble of drums.
My ears ring with the trumpet call.
Lead me, My Lord.
I follow you to battle.

[1]John Cordelier, The Path of Eternal Wisdom, (London: John M. Watkins. 1922), 17.

Lectio Divina

“Look to him, and be radiant; so your faces shall never be ashamed.” (Psalm 34:5 RSV)

One of the fruits of Lectio Divina is deification. In the Western Church we use the pale term “sanctification,” but deification glows with an inner light. If you look to Him you will become radiant. Paul speaks of the same thing when he says, “And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit” (2 Corinthians 3:18 ESV). The words “are being transformed” translate the Greek word for metamorphosis. The transformation is in process now as we behold the glory of the Lord in Lectio. As we gaze upon the Lord in his self-revelation in Holy Scripture we receive into ourselves His likeness. The four steps of Lectio Divina; read, reflect, respond and rest, bring us into the Presence of the God who loves us. Read the text over meditatively several times. Reflect on the meaning of the text. Respond in prayer on the basis of the text. Rest in the Presence of God.

Like Moses on Mount Sinai we look to Him and become radiant (Exodus 34:29-35).

"29 When Moses came down from Mount Sinai, with the two tablets of the testimony in his hand as he came down from the mountain, Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God. 30 Aaron and all the people of Israel saw Moses, and behold, the skin of his face shone, and they were afraid to come near him. 31 But Moses called to them, and Aaron and all the leaders of the congregation returned to him, and Moses talked with them. 32 Afterward all the people of Israel came near, and he commanded them all that the LORD had spoken with him in Mount Sinai. 33 And when Moses had finished speaking with them, he put a veil over his face. 34 Whenever Moses went in before the LORD to speak with him, he would remove the veil, until he came out. And when he came out and told the people of Israel what he was commanded, 35 the people of Israel would see the face of Moses, that the skin of Moses' face was shining. And Moses would put the veil over his face again, until he went in to speak with him."

St. Gregory Palamas made a distinction between essence and divine energies, the former in immutable transcendence, the latter incarnate in humanity. From Isaiah 45:19 “I did not say to the seed of Jacob, ‘Seek Me in vain’; I, the Lord, speak righteousness, I declare things that are right.” It is clear that You did not intend me to seek Your face in vain. For me a reductionist interpretation, that would avoid the obvious surface meaning in favor of a spiritualized application, is not adequate. With Moses (Exodus 33:18) I cry, “Show me Your Glory.” My Lord, show me Your face. If it is not possible to see Your essence, the cry of my heart is at least let me see the “effulgence” of Your glory, the outraying of Your Essence in the face of Jesus Christ.1 May I see Your glory as the eye sees. Let me see You with a ‘spiritual sensing’ even as Paul was caught up to heaven, whether in the body or out of the body he did not know. Let me see You as John saw You walking among the golden menorah of the Churches.

Why? Because I love You? Not a shadow of how You love me! No. Because You command it, and say “Seek My face,” and my seeking, which is commanded, will make Your heart glad even as it leaves me “rapt” in Your love.2

St. Gregory Palamas would remind us that in beholding not the essence of God, but the radiance of God we ourselves enter into deification and take on that same radiance. It is the radiance of Christ on the Mount of Transfiguration. “And after six days Jesus took with him Peter and James, and John his brother, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. 2 And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became white as light” (Matthew 17:1,2).

In Lectio we kneel at the feet of the radiant Christ whom we adore. St. Gregory of Nyssa says, “We receive into ourselves the likeness of whatever we look upon.” This is true both of evil and good. In the present context, as we gaze in Lectio at the radiance of Christ, we receive that radiance into ourselves and are transformed. “Look to him and be radiant. So your faces shall never be ashamed.”

In all of this one thing must be carefully identified. Do not seek the radiance for the sake of being radiant. Seek rather the radiance for His own sake, He who is the express image, the outraying, the effulgence of the Father’s glory. He alone is to be worshipped and adored, for own His sake, and for no other reason. “For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen” (Romans 11:36 ESV).

Read Reflect Respond Rest
Lectio Meditatio Oratio Contemplatio


1(John Calvin, Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews 1:1-3)
2(Richard Rolle, The Fire of Love)

Impossible Tasks

One of the hardest things we have to learn is the extent of our own capabilities. Several factors come into play: our strength, our health, our understanding, timing, circumstances, and the countless variables inherent in other people in the midst of whom we are called to do our ministries. It is with full awareness of his limitations [probably health issues] that St. Paul hears the words of Christ spoken in his ear "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness" [2 Corinthians 12:9].

The bedrock of all spiritual grace is the essential helplessness that we share as human beings. Psalm 88, one of the glummest psalms in the entire Psalter, has three spiritual truths that lay a new foundation. v. 4b "I am a man who has no strength," v. 8b "I am shut in so that I cannot escape." v. 12:c, and "I am helpless." Time and again we will come back to this starting place; the acknowledgement of our essential helplessness before God and humbly surrender to Him, who loves us so that He surrendered all, that we might be complete in Him. Only from that starting place can we go forward. While we are not called to go forward in our own strength, we are called to go forward in His strength. What He demands of us is sometimes more, and sometimes less than what we demand of ourselves. This is where healthy authority relationships can come into play. We are not always the best judge of our own capabilities.

St. Benedict writes:

“If it happens that difficult or impossible tasks are laid on a brother, let him nevertheless receive the order of the one in authority with all meekness and obedience. But if he sees that the weight of the burden altogether exceeds the limit of his strength, let him submit the reasons for his inability to the one who is over him in a quiet way and at an opportune time, without pride, resistance, or contradiction. And if after these representations the Superior still persists in his decision and command, let the subject know that this is for his good, and let him obey out of love, trusting in the help of God.” Chapter 68 Rule of St. Benedict

God is more clearly aware of our limitations than we are and often challenges us above what we think our limitations will allow. Often he will do that through those who exercise godly authority over us. He does this in part that we might learn to lean on Him and not on our own strength, and also in part that we might grow in grace and competence through the power of His Spirit with us.

Nilling and Willing

I ran into an apt but unusual word in a fresh translation of St. Augustine’s Confessions by Garry Wills. The word is, “nill” for “will not”, or for “negate.” Here is the sentence that I find so remarkable:

“This is all I wanted, to nill my own will, will yours.”[1]

How difficult that is! For Augustine it was as painful a process as it is for us. He says, “But where I was going no ship or carriage or walking could take me … Not only going but arriving there was simply a matter of willing it—but willing it with a strong and unified will, not a partial and wounded will, one jerking and lunging, part of it surging, part of it sinking,”[2] What he discovered with much despair and tears was that “there is a sickness of the soul, weighed down by compulsions that impede its response to the truth. In that sense there are two wills, each halfhearted, each lacking what the other has.”[3]

But this was neither academic or impersonal. He says, “But I, in my hesitation over whether to serve the Lord at last, as I had long been disposed to do, was the same man willing as was nilling, both were me. For my willing was as halfhearted as my nilling. I was at war within, was exiled from myself.”[4] What was it that held him back? “The triflingest things, the very hollowest things of the hollow-headed, had stalled me – my entrenched lusts, plucking me back by my fleshly clothing, whispering low: Can you cast us off? And: From this moment, never more to be with us! And: From this moment, never to do this! … they no longer flaunted themselves before me on my way, but were tittering behind me, as if furtively picking at me while I pulled away from them, trying to make me look back.”[5] There is here the pain of abandonment of long fondled lusts and desires that tugs at the human soul (psyche – soul, self). This is not easy stuff to endure, but the warning of St. Benedict sounds in my ear, “death lies close by the gate of pleasure.”[6] Augustine then hears Lady Self-Control teasing with smiling insistence, “Why do you stand alone, which is no standing at all? Throw yourself on him! Do you think he will not stay your fall? Give up fear, and throw yourself—he will catch you, and will heal you.”[7]

The surrender when it comes, it comes with sweet relief. He picks up the book in the garden and reads, ‘“Give up indulgence and drunkenness, give up lust and obscenity, give up strife and rivalries and clothe yourself in Jesus Christ the Lord, leaving no further allowance for fleshly desires.’ The very instant I finished that sentence, light was flooding my heart with assurance, and all my shadowy reluctance evanesced.”[8] It is at this point that he finally is able to declare, “This is all I wanted, to nill my own will, will yours.”[9]

The conflict of St. Augustine is the conflict of everyman. That is the crunch point … willing and nilling, that calls us all to renewed surrenders. Letting go is scary, because, after all it is the self that we are letting go. It is Jesus who said, “Whoever would save his life (psyche – soul, or self) will lose it, but whoever loses his life (soul, or self) for my sake will find it.”[10] We are hard learners and often must reach the point of utter helplessness before we let go, be still, let drop, relax, and know that he is God.[11] Then, O the blessed relief of being out from under.

Willing and Nilling and The Bondservant

I have long been drawn to an image of commitment in Exodus, “When you buy a Hebrew slave, he shall serve six years, and in the seventh he shall go out for nothing … But if the slave plainly says, ‘I love my master, my wife and my children; I will not go out free,’ then his master shall bring him to the door or the door post. And his master shall bore his ear through with an awl, and he shall be his slave forever.”[12] Forever is a very long time. Lord, I would be your slave, your bondservant forever.

I note the mixed, very human motives. The master has given the servant a wife and she has born him children in his servitude. He loves his master, and he also loves his wife and children. I can’t help reading this with a little “upstairs, downstairs” overtone from my own cultural background. I am drawn particularly to the finality of the decision; one bears visibly the mark of his slavery by wearing an ear ring. The N.I.V. translation of Psalm 40 picks the theme up with clarity, “Sacrifice and offering you did not desire, but my ears you have pierced; burnt offerings and sin offerings you did not require. Then I said, ‘Here I am, I have come—it is written about me in the scroll. I desire to do your will, O my God, your law is written in my heart.”[13] In effect, with Augustine, I pray, “This is all I wanted, to nill my own will, will yours.” You, Jesus, my Lord, give my life the only meaning I have. My life is hidden with you in God.[14] You, are in your Father, and you are in me, and I in you.[15]

There is implicit suffering in that, and in my humanity and weakness. From time to time I shrink from that suffering, but with Paul, “I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church.”[16]

Both the surrender to your will, O my God, and the sufferings you endured are picked up in the Letter to the Hebrews where Psalm 40:6-8 is directly applied to you. You lived your earthly life in perfect surrender to the will of your own Father, you taking the form of a servant[17], nilling your own will, and praying for us and in us, “Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will but what you will.”[18] You in me, and I in you, you make for us both the perfect surrender that I can only desire, but desire it I do, and strive for it I will to do, praying my own prayer in your words, “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” You bid me follow you, and then you give me the grace to do so, saying, “Work out your own salvation in fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.[19]

Again, “This is all I wanted, to nill my own will, will yours.”[20]


[1] Garry Wills, Saint Augustine: Confessions, (London:Penguin Classics, 2006), IX, 1:7.
[2] Ibid. VIII, 5.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Ibid.
[6] The Rule of St. Benedict, Ch. 7, On Humility
[7] Ibid.
[8] Ibid.
[9] Ibid. IX, 1:7
[10] Matthew 16:25
[11] Psalm 46:10
[12] Exodus 21:2, 5-6
[13] Psalm 40:6-8
[14] Colossians 3:3
[15] John 14:20
[16] Colossians 1:24
[17] Philippians 2:7
[18] Mark 14:36
[19] Philippians 2:12b-13
[20] Garry Wills, Saint Augustine: Confessions, (London:Penguin Classics, 2006), IX, 1:7.