outWORD by Matte Downey

I like to read stories. I also like to write stories. I have done a fair bit of both and, over the years, I have learned a few things about what stories do and do not do. In essence, a story is a trajectory. It sets the reader or listener on a path toward something or someone. It has a beginning (a specific starting point in time), it has a middle (in which characters face various challenges, setbacks, and victories), and an end (which is not really the end, but an invitation for the reader to imagine past the last sentence). Stories are always partial and incomplete. They never tell it all, but they do set us on a particular journey. What stories do NOT do is seek to make a case for absolute truth statements. Stories do not prescribe a particular plan of action in order to achieve certain results. Stories do not give us universal rules and regulations. When we try to force stories to perform apologetic, didactic, or juridical tasks, we end up mishandling them. A story inv...

Image from tes.com Take a rope and hold one end in your hands. Imagine that God holds the other end. What does your relationship and communication with God look like? Are you the one constantly pulling on the rope, trying to get God's attention, hoping that he will give you what you need, trying to drag him closer to you and your situation? Or does it feel like the Almighty One is doing most of the pulling, making demands on you, insisting that you move, yanking you out of your comfort zone all the time? Or maybe somewhere in the craziness of life you feel like you have accidentally dropped your end of the rope and now you can't find it. The connection seems lost. Henri Nouwen believes that loving (or rightly relating to) God involves moving from illusion to prayer. And what is the illusion? Or more accurately, what are our illusions (plural)? We might think that we are in control, that it is our story we are telling, our drama we are living. Or that it is up to us to mak...

Waikiki beach, February 2016 It's been awhile since I wrote anything here. There are several reasons for that. The primary one is that I spent the first half of the month doing a final edit of my doctoral dissertation before I handed it over to the examiners. Looking carefully at every word, footnote, and punctuation mark, as well as making sure that all 200 pages read like a cohesive whole and not a collection of disjointed ideas, took up most of my hours as well as most of the space in my brain. I surfaced from my office for tea and popcorn and made appearances in classes and meetings, but my mind was always on my dissertation. I submitted it to the thesis office on February 16. Three days later, Dean and I awoke at 4:30 in the morning to fly to Hawaii for a bit of sunshine and rest. It took several days before I was able to relax and enjoy the slower pace of vacation instead of thinking about projects, obligations, and future plans. Rest is a discipline and a skill. For ...

Image from patriceayme.wordpress.com This morning I taught a class on the topic of spirituality, specifically, Christian Spirituality. People can have varied, muddy ideas of what constitutes spirituality these days, so I always try to bring a bit of clarity to the topic. Spirituality is that dimension of life which is engendered (comes out of) and empowered by (derives energy from) the Spirit of Christ. It finds expression in how we live, act, and interact with others every day. It is not merely an interior, isolated journey (though that is certainly an element of spirituality), but an integrated life guided by the Spirit of God. It is a quest for meaning, for the sacred, for the mysteries of the universe, for the purpose of life, and for a life which flourishes. It links the question "Who is God?" with "Who am I?"[1] It addresses queries like: "Why do people do what they do?" and "What values are guiding them in their decisions and actions and re...

Image from ruleoflife.com My life has been pretty quiet the past few months. Don't get me wrong, it is busy. It has been one of those terms when I am teaching, traveling, going to conferences, trying to move forward on my thesis, grading assignments, and meeting with professors and students and people in my spiritual community. But in the midst of the busyness it has felt pretty quiet. Quiet in my spirit. No fireworks. No great excitement, No awesome revelations. No getting caught up in a whirlwind and taken to heaven. No pillar of fire by night. No guiding cloud by day. No burning bush. Just the humdrum of reading and writing, lecturing, going to the gym, praying, reading the Bible, gathering with followers of Jesus, and doing the dishes. Pretty quiet inside. At times I ask my spirit - hey, are you alive and well? I hope so, I respond. I wonder to myself - is God with me? I guess so, I say, but I can't always tell. And maybe, on a particularly quiet and busy day, I allow...

Image from maxwellswaterloo.com We didn't do anything really special to ring in the new year. Frankly, I was still a bit celebration weary from the holiday events with our family and Dean was reeling from a very busy few days at work. Having part of the afternoon off on New Year's Eve meant we could get some groceries, go to the gym, and make a trip to the bank. Pretty exciting stuff, I know. But really, it was good. As we sat at home on the couch right before midnight, watching television and eating jalapeno hummus, I heard that old, subtle, accusing voice telling me we should have made more elaborate plans, should have gone to a party or headed downtown, anything which would have yielded photos showing how hip and cool and happy we were. This low key evening was almost embarrassing, hardly worth a mention on social media, certainly nothing to emulate or envy. Or was it? We were content. We were thankful. We were tired but happy. And this seemed like a good way to spend an...

Hiking in the Alps 2014 The last month has been a bit disruptive. In the midst of finishing my doctoral comprehensive exams, writing a paper for a conference, Christmas preparations, spending a week with family in western Canada, traipsing all over Switzerland, attending a conference just outside of Zurich, and diving right into teaching a course the day after I got back from Europe, some of my usual practices were disrupted. There were no blogs, my workout went out the window, quiet and contemplative times were sporadic, gluten was more abundant, sleeping habits were affected, and housework was neglected. Despite this, for the most part I have felt energetic and encouraged. And I did read quite a few books due to the amount of time I spent in planes and trains. In general, I don't mind disruptions - in fact, I get kind of antsy and restless if the same old stuff happens day after week after month after year. I love good disruptions like vacations, unexpected dates with Dean,...

I finished my summer Latin course last week.  It was a great learning experience in many ways. First, the method was immersive: we just cracked open our Latin books and started reading a story, figuring it out as we went. There was not an English word in our textbook. This is the most natural way (children do it) to learn a language.  It is surprising how much one can pick up just from recognising root words, considering context, and a few helpful drawings.  For example, take a look at the phrase tempus fugit.  It is pretty easy to figure out. Tempus relates to time and fugit relates to fugitive, so tempus fugit means "time flies!"  See, you can read Latin! Second, the course was bilingual (trilingual if you count the Latin component). About half the class were French speakers, about half English, so each student participated in the language of their choice. Not only did I get to study Latin, I got to brush up on my French!  Bonus! At times, it was a ...

Buds on a tree this morning I saw my first bud on a tree today.  Well, not exactly my first, because I have seen them before, but it was my first sighting this year.  It has been an extended winter and it feels like the whole earth is straining to catch a glimpse of the spring sun and feel its warm, nourishing rays again.  I know I am.  Today I was reading G.K. Chesterton and Kathleen Norris.  Both of them have developed a gift for seeing the playful and holy presence of Christ in moments that many of us dismiss as mundane and ordinary.  Chesterton writes about the sun rising every morning in response to the call of the Spirit of God to "Do it again!"  He calls this repetition in nature a theatrical, heavenly encore.  Similarly, Norris speaks about the mindless tasks of laundry and washing dishes as invitations to enter the temple of "holy leisure."  She says there is sacred potential ...

Sunset in my neighbourhood This week I showed a video in class from some monks at the Monastery of Saint Antony in Egypt.  Father Lazarus talks about different kinds of silence: one kind of silence is when we go into a garden or enjoy a walk in a park and have a bit of quiet.  That's nice, but it is temporary and it is mostly external.  A deeper type of silence is when our minds are not frantic and our thoughts are not in turmoil.  This silence, this inner peace, is something that is possible no matter where we are, whether alone in the stillness of the desert or in the middle of a noisy crowd in the heart of New York City.  Oh, to have a mind that is a peace, that is calm and ordered, that thinks good and honourable thoughts and does not worry.  It is a struggle, indeed, but it is possible to have moments of inner peace. I read Psalm 139 a few days ago and found 5 distinct markers along the psalm...

The only way to get this view is to take the ferry to the Isle of Mull. I love books that start off with heartwarming observations on Christian spirituality and then, just when the warm fuzzies are getting really fuzzy, deliver a powerful punch to the gut.  We don't have enough of these books, in my opinion; we do have the Bible which is undoubtably punchy, but I am talking about writings from contemporary Christian thinkers.  And let me assure you that I am speaking figuratively here and not encouraging anyone to take up boxing.  I am also not talking about gut-punching just for shock value or to be provocative or to make sure the point is not forgotten.  I am referring to the ability to speak the truth plainly and simply and make no excuses for it.  I am talking about being able to clear away the rubble of our 21st century thinking so that truth can do exactly what it is m...

While in Waterloo, Ontario to attend the Canadian Theological Society's annual conference last week, I picked up a few books, one of them being Kathleen Norris's Acedia & Me .  Sometimes defined as sloth or associated with depression, acedia is a word that, though commonly used by the ancient monks, has not found a prominent place in contemporary spiritual language.  Norris describes what acedia looks and feels like by writing about her own experience.  Basically, acedia is an absence of care.  Norris writes:  "The person afflicted by acedia refuses to care or is incapable of doing so.  When life becomes too challenging and engagement with others too demanding, acedia offers a kind of spiritual morphine: you know the pain is there, yet you can't rouse yourself to give a damn." (p. 3)  Monks knew this affliction well.  They called it the noon-day demon because the temptation usually made an appearance around midda...

This past weekend I was on a winter retreat with my faith community.  There were 21 of us stuffed into a 4-bedroom chalet in the mountains.  It was amazing to see how gracious and patient people were with each other.  One person volunteered to sleep in the laundry room.  Others offered to help out in the kitchen even if they were not scheduled to assist with cooking or cleaning.  Our hosts welcomed us with huge smiles, hugs, and kisses.  They silently served us in many ways: not only did they let us take over their chalet, but after a snowy night, we awoke to find that our cars had all been brushed off, ready for the trip home. I don't remember hearing any complaints over the weekend.  We cooked together, we ate together, we went on a winter hike, we frolicked on the frozen lake, we drank tea by the fire, we played games, we had times of silence, we worshipped God together, and we prayed for each other....

I am teaching a course on Christian Spirituality this term.  The textbook I have chosen to use ( Devotional Classics edited by Richard Foster) starts off with an introductory section that talks about the cost involved in living a life in accordance with the Spirit of Jesus.  No easing into the subject for Foster, no gentle convincing or subtle sales job.  He just puts it right out there at the front:  being a following of Jesus takes a lot of courage.  How much should spirituality cost me?  Well, how much am I willing to pay?  C.S. Lewis reminds us that being a Christian is not like paying your taxes, where you give God what he is due and hope there is a little left over for yourself.  He says:  "The terrible thing, the almost impossible thing, is to hand over your whole self - all your wishes and precautions - to Christ.  But it is far easier than what we are trying to do instead.  For what we are trying to do is to rem...

It is an unsettling day today. The weather has been windy, rainy, sleety and much colder than normal. I am unsettled as well. An important meeting that was supposed to happen this afternoon was cancelled. I am in limbo about how things will unfold in the next few months as I finish my degree. I just received a second offer of admission for doctoral studies, which probably won't change my direction, but it adds another factor to the mix. We are in the process of moving my work space to the guest bedroom (which doesn't have a lot of traffic these days). Also, any vacation plans we have tried to make in the last month have all fallen apart due to scheduling conflicts or unique opportunities that keep popping up. Unsettled. The path is not clear ahead. I cannot step forward decisively. I must wait until the things that are in flux touch down. Flux. That's an interesting word. It means 'flow' or 'moving across' and has a dynamic quality to it, like a river which...

Today, I am reading a wonderful book called Minding the Spirit which is filled with articles by scholars from the field of Christian Spirituality. However, I am not having a wonderful time while doing it. Instead, I find myself suffering from fatigue of the spirit and the mind and the body. I would just like to go sit by the window and read some fiction for a day or two. Or maybe go for a long walk without thinking about my next research project the whole time. The pressure that has been piling itself on top of me these past few weeks, scoop after heavy scoop, is finally starting to dent my usually cheerful and buoyant demeanour. I thrive in a learning environment, but the love and drive for what I am doing has taken a few hits lately, and that makes studying quite a chore. I find myself tempted to walk away, at least for a bit. I won't, but I am tempted. There is the constant pressure to be the brightest and the best, to do well not only in the classroom, but to fill one's re...

I just finished an online spiritual formation course. The final assignment was a creative project based on some concepts we studied over the last 4 weeks. Usually, ideas line up in my brain and eagerly pepper me with scenarios for possible projects. But this week, much to my dismay, everything was silent. On Saturday, I tried to put some ideas down on paper, but after three attempts to come up with something creative (all of them whined about the fact that I was uninspired), I stopped. What do you do when you lack inspiration? Everything seems deflated and limp, void of life. Words fall flat - monotone and without meaning. Music becomes mechanical. I abandoned another idea mid-sentence and scribbled two words beneath the mess: phone book. My lack of inspiration was reminding me of a saying. When something does not hold our interest, we say that it is about as exciting as reading the phone book. On the other hand, it is also said of someone who has great charisma that they can read the ...

I am doing an online course in spiritual formation. We studied inspiration last week: what breathes life into us? The following is based on an assignment I wrote on that topic. I love standing outside and watching planes fly overhead (did that 5 minutes ago – YES!!); It makes me think of adventure and being an explorer. I love walking, running, jumping, and skipping. I love breathing, stretching, and the feel of clean water on my body. I especially love mountains and oceans; they make my heart burst with their immensity and raw, unstoppable beauty. I love being small next to them. I love watching little bugs. Their wee, tiny legs move so fast and they cover so much ground. I love touching soft fur and rough elephant skin. I love drinking chai tea and sitting close to Dean. Comfort. I love moments of silence when I am just a part of the universe without trying to impress anyone. I love time and the splashes of flavour that squirt from it as it passes. I love being able to hear and see ...

I went to see my osteopath yesterday because I have had a pain in the side of my chest for almost two weeks. It turns out that I have a cracked rib (and a few rotated ones) probably caused by a violent coughing spell or two. Oh, and she suggested that this nasty cold that I have been battling for the past month and a half is actually low-grade pneumonia. Really? That would explain a lot of things. Yes, that would totally make sense. Isn't it amazing how I continue to function pretty normally, or at least believe I can, when the symptoms are not screaming out loud. I will, of course, respond to blinding red lights and clanging bells and gushes of blood, you know, emergency situations...but an ache, a cough, some fatigue, a slight hint of fever. None of this is cause for concern or even a change of pace. I continue to do my work, stay up late to finish an assignment if I have to, fulfill all my commitments and make new ones, and drink a cappuccino if I am tired before going to class....