Dear Incarnation,
I often think of this tweet that I saw during Lent 2020, when pandemic lockdowns were just beginning (and back when Twitter still existed!):
Perhaps this year's Lent feels a bit like that for many of you? With all the upheaval in our city, our congregation has unexpectedly "given up" a lot over the past few months — employment, job security, childcare arrangements, future plans and hopes. We are living in disorienting, uncertain times; a Lenten wilderness of sorts. And in this wilderness, we remain exposed to the ordinary challenges and pains of life.
Several months ago, we decided to preach on the topic of acedia during Lent. Katie and I had observed what seemed like symptoms of acedia in many of our pastoral conversations: apathy, despair, despondency, distraction, a self-defeating weariness. We also observed it in ourselves. We began to wonder if acedia could afflict an entire community or society, and our reading revealed that in fact it can, and often does; many believe it is the spiritual illness of our time.
And with good reason! The early Christian monks observed that acedia was sometimes a reaction to a sudden disorientation or an overwhelming grief (what we might now simply call "trauma"). And as I mentioned a few Sundays ago, we have all lived through a recent significant trauma — the pandemic — that significantly altered our attention, energy, daily rhythms, relationships, and society in ways that are still not fully understood or healed.
Now we are living through another time of sudden disorientation. Acedia is a very understandable response to a world that all feels like too much. And it is aided by our modern tools designed to anesthetize, distract, and automate so much of ordinary, flesh-and-blood human life — technologies that help us "resist the demands of love," to quote Sunday's sermon. But even though acedia's prevalence is understandable, that doesn't mean it is harmless, or can be ignored without consequence. An entrenched resistance to the demands of love, in the end, will devour our souls and rob us of the joy that is rightfully ours in Christ.
And thus, this Lent sermon series was born. Our hope is not to make you feel badly for any sort of spiritual struggle you might be experiencing (a struggle that your priests often share!), but to shine light on our common condition and provide some of the church's ancient wisdom and remedies so that we may better bear one another's burdens as we walk through this Lenten wilderness.
I received a number of questions about Sunday's remedy of perseverance, also called "stability of place" (or the monks' repeated refrain to "stay in your cell"). How do we discern what our "cell" is? And how do we know when we ought to leave?
These are not questions with easy answers; ultimately, they require discernment with the aid of the Holy Spirit and (ideally) prayerful friends. The mere asking of these kinds of questions is a good signal that we are engaged in the struggle of faith rather than surrendering to the indifference of acedia. Painful as it is, this is a good place to be, and I will try to offer a little guidance.
The monks' cell was the place that they lived the ordinary hours of their days in prayer and work. And so most often, the comparable "cell" of our own life is what is most ordinary and routine. That cell is where, through our small and daily acts of faithfulness, we encounter God, obey his will, and enact his kingdom.
That cell is also where we can ask each day: "how does the love of God compel me today?" Often, the love of God compels us to perseverance, even when God seems absent and our ordinary life feels dull and unrewarding. The desire to "flee our cell" manifests as escapist distraction, consumption, busyness, overwork, fantasizing, or inactivity — and so the remedy is not to flee to those quick-fixes and dopamine hits, but to persevere in the day-to-day.
But sometimes, the love of God does compel us to make a change. Sometimes our cell becomes a place where ours or others' identity as God's image-bearers is being actively harmed, such as instances of abuse or oppression. Sometimes our cell is a place in which we are being pressured to sin, such as instances of workplace corruption. Sometimes, we are being tempted beyond what we can endure. In cases like these, the demands of love may require us to flee.
These are matters of discernment, and the mere act of discernment inoculates us against acedia. Prayer is another acedia remedy; it's an act of care for our spiritual life and an act of love toward God. In prayer, we persevere in the "cell" of our souls and seek an interior "stability of place": a stable inner orientation toward God. When we are asking these kinds of questions and desiring to orient our lives toward God's loving purposes, we do not need to fear making a misstep.
I have often appreciated Thomas Merton's prayer for discernment. I appreciate the way he acknowledges our inability to understand so much of what we are doing, and trusts God to do all the work of bringing us safely to the place we need to be. I use the phrase "I believe that the desire to please you, does in fact please you" all the time in my own prayers:
My Lord God,
I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end
nor do I really know myself,
and the fact that I think I am following your will
does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you
does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road,
though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always though
I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.
Amen.
Did you know that we have a discernment prayer ministry? If you are wrestling with a question that feels too big for you, 2-3 of our trained prayer ministers will visit your home (or host you in theirs), listen to your question, and then listen to God on your behalf. Often, one of our pastors serves as one of the prayer ministers. This ministry has been quietly growing and bearing fruit over the past year, and we are happy to offer it for any matter you might be facing, big or small. Please reach out to Katie if you are curious to hear more.
In the struggle with you,
Amy
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