Listen to your Spirit

Listen to your Spirit

Sermon for First Austin

By Aurelia Davila Pratt

January 28, 2018

Mark 1:21-28

They went to Capernaum; and when the Sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried out, "What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God."

But Jesus rebuked him, saying, "Be silent, and come out of him!" And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, "What is this? A new teaching--with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him." At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.

This is the Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God.

We are gearing up to do a couple of Enneagram small groups during Lent, and so in preparation I’ve been reading the book we are going to be using as well as listening to a number of podcasts, and all this has been so enlightening and helpful. But it has also affirmed what I already knew, what I discovered about myself years ago when I learned about the Enneagram, this ancient personality typing system, and that is: I am a six, and it simply can’t be helped.

My friend Kyndall and I were driving together to CBF General Assembly a few years ago, and we had a few hours ahead of us so we decided that for fun, we would read aloud an in depth description of each of our enneagram types. I was driving so Kyndall first read hers aloud, and then after reading mine, she said “Phew! It sounds exhausting to be you!”

In the book, “The Road Back to You,” by Ian Morgan Cron and Suzanne Stabile, sixes are summarized as committed, practical and witty but are also “worst case scenario thinkers who are motivated by fear and the need for security.

I was reminded of this not too long ago, when I found myself a part of an ordinary moment turned holy. It was early morning, and I had only halfway woken up, so I was in that dream-like, in between space; groggy, out of it.

By the way, I’ve decided this dream like place is a place where divine things can and will happen; where spirit often pushes through. Our minds are fertile and open and ready because we haven’t yet remembered and we haven’t yet become. We haven’t remembered the burdens of our life and we haven’t become distracted by the demands of our day.

So I was in this in between space where my mind was extra malleable to my subconscious; to my deepest inner thoughts. I stumbled to the restroom, trying to will myself to alertness when my sixness, naturally began going over all the terrible things that could happen on that day. It was more intense than normal because I hadn’t quite gained enough control of my mind to think rationally, when I had this crazy, panicked chain of thoughts, one after another. It was like a domino effect: boom! Boom! Boom! Looking back, I can see that it was not unlike an unclean spirit living within me. Those demon voices in my head. The me that struggles every day with fear. It was my voice, but it was this voice, and it said,

“What will you do? What if you lose it all? Your family, your husband, your child; everything you have? Everyone you love? Your comfort, your security? What if you lost it? It could happen you know. Then, what would you do?”

And all in the same moment, I thought to myself worriedly, “How will I ever find peace and some semblance of certainty in this deconstructed faith of mine? If I so often feel confused and doubtful and unsure of it all now – How will I ever work it all out in the worst of times?

And this was the real problem. Because the first set of questions, I could throw off as irrational once my mind was clear enough to reclaim my self awareness. But the second set of questions triggered something inside me. Remnants of a faith crisis that began, naturally, in seminary and never really ended because I learned the answer to it all, which is that real faith takes work, every single (add expletive here) day. And real faith work involves deconstruction – it’s unavoidable. And I don’t know about you, but I have a lot of BS to sift through. And the walls have come tumbling down. And the foundation feels way too shaky to be anything I can count on.

And you guys: my sixness NEEDS security. So this is NOT COOL. All these panicked thoughts washed over me in moments, and – I don’t know if you are still with me here, but I’m still on the toilet in this story, guys. Like – this all happened in seconds.

So, I get up, I (maybe) wash my hands – still kinda groggy. And the fear that has swept over me is like a downpour. A wave I cannot ride. It overwhelms me in this unwanted spiritual moment. It undoes me.

And then, this voice – spoke into the chaos that was my soul. And the voice was stillness. It was calm. It was peace. It was God, but it was inside me. Without missing a beat, the voice said:

“You will never have certainty about God if you don’t trust your own Spirit.”

God in me. “Imago Dei,” I thought.

And so, jarred awake by the revelation of this moment, I began the journey of listening to and trusting my own spirit. It may seem simple, possibly even anti-climactic, but for a woman who is also a woman of color – listening to your own Spirit and going with THAT despite what society and even, especially the Church may often tell you -  this is a revelation worthy of reminder every single day.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is this – You – woman – man –cis gender -  transgender – gay – straight – white black brown – YOU have the very spirit of God within you, and it is God. Trust it. You have permission!

This is a truth that should speak to each one of us, personally and deeply, but let me just give a shout out to the women for a moment: because we have been told again and again in both word and action and LACK of action: we have been told through the lens of patriarchy and abuse and harassment and violence THROUGH the ages to shut the hell up. To keep quiet. To shrink; to be small.

And to the gay person who has too often been swept off the path of faith community. Blackballed from the church. Cast out and ostracized. Treated as less than human. Forced to find other ways to God, often in isolation. To those of you who have endured this kind of treatment, It can be really difficult to learn to trust your own Spirit, to trust God in you when your entire identity has been questioned, rejected; unaccepted your whole life.

This is a truth for the person of color, too, who has had to accept the white man’s narrative of God; this specific paradigm of faith for far too long. To the person of color: trust God in you.

But this is also a truth for the person of privilege. Because this truth is more than truth. It is challenge. It is responsibility. It is taking ownership of, trusting God in you instead of letting broken and unjust, unfair systems say otherwise. Which means, it is often resistance. Going against the grain. Trailblazing. General discomfort. And much work is required of us. But it’s important to remember: we have permission.

Part of the process of trusting your Spirit, is remembering (which, I also think is the work of the human in general.) Mark Nepo says it wonderfully, and in fact, another great part of this excerpt, from his daily devotional, “The Book of Awakening” is in your guide. He says:

“Most of our searching is looking for ways to discover who we already are. In this, we are a forgettable species, and perhaps what Adam and Eve lost when kicked out of Eden was their ability to remember what is sacred. Thus, we continually run into mountains and rivers, run to the farthest sea, and into the arms of strangers, all to be shaken into remembering. And some of us lead simple lives, hoping to practice how not to forget. But part of our journey is this forgetting and this remembering. It is a special part of what makes us human.”

We spend our entire lives searching for our purpose in this world, right? But Jesus’ invitation to the kingdom of God is first and foremost deeply personal. It starts with remembering and reclaiming what’s sacred within us.

I think it’s pretty interesting that every player into today’s reading has a voice, except one. Jesus; the crowd; even the unclean spirit – all get a chance to speak, but the man himself is silent. He has no lines, no significant part to play in the story. He is just a body. Whoever he is, he is silent, and his true self is totally hidden underneath this other self.

But thanks be to God because Jesus is about casting out those demons – those unclean spirits – in each one of us – that would have us forget who we really are (Imago dei – created in the image and likeness of God.) The very Spirit of God dwells in us. And every time we surrender to this truth; each and every moment we reclaim it – we are allowing the presence of Christ living in us to cast out those parts of us that are slaves to fear or shame or anger. And so we Remember ourselves, inch by inch, a little bit more every day even as we battle with the unclean spirits within us. We remember. Even as the world in all its brokenness leers at us. Even as we doubt and second-guess ourselves. We remember who we are. We trust God in us.

And it is God IN us meaning no one else can listen for us. And we can do very little as people of faith in this world if we are not practiced in listening, really listening to that often still, small voice inside. And if you haven’t heard it in a while, watch out because it will bowl you over. It will wake you up from deep sleep, sounding a lot like panic because it is desperate (like clawing, gnawing, aching kind of desperate) to RISE up and out in the form of divine word and work in this world. Divine love. We are the hands and feet of Christ, after all. As Teresa of Avila once beautifully said, “Christ has no body now, but yours.”

The problem with listening is… well, listening is hard, right? It’s always been, and now, more than ever, we are busy. We are so distracted. From the moment we wake up. We hear the alarm go off, and what do must of us (at least) have to grab so silence it? And so what do we do next? What do we fill our minds and by default, our hearts and spirits with in those first still moments of our day? Those spiritually fertile moments? My personal favorite thing to do is to check Twitter and corporately freak out with the rest of the world about the state of the twilight zone we are living in. And then sort of anxiously go throughout the rest of my day paranoid and scared.

Or what those final moments at night? Or those spaces in between that could be holy opportunities if we were listening. All the waiting we do throughout the day. Between errands, at red lights, school pick up, you name it.

I mean, I’m guilty y’all. God forbid I experience two minutes of potential boredom. It’s as if I’m not just distracted. It seems like everything in me, everything in us – perhaps – WANTS to be distracted. And the whole phone thing, that’s just one example, meaning there are countless distractions keeping us from listening to and therefore trusting the Spirit of God in us.

A prayer I pray daily is one I took from Richard Rohr. It only takes a breath. “God, hold me in your truth.” It’s the best I can hope for, really. With all the doubt and distraction constantly clouding my spiritual lens. And I believe God does this for all of us, thank goodness. Which is why I had that moment in that one early morning. That moment I didn’t ask for neither did I deserve. I certainly wasn’t listening for it.  

But if you are like me than you know that there is something in us that tugs at us constantly. That nudges us toward God. That compels us to the center no matter how lousy we are at actually getting there efficiently. It is called the grace of God, and it holds us in his truth. It holds us in her truth. And it is this same grace that casts OUT for us even when we have no voice. Just as Jesus did to that insignificant man who was not insignificant at all. Grace through glimpses that continually lead us toward the Love of Christ, toward our true identity in Christ, toward Spirit and her voice.

And so we try a little here and there. When we pray or meditate or practice intention in all the beautiful ways it can be done whether through chores or community or singing. We catch glimpses of what it’s like in these moments, and Spirit nudges its way through the crevices and into the small space we have created. But what would it be like if the space was bigger. Deeper. If these opportunities of surrender expanded? Really?

Perhaps we would find that the grace we are given fills us up so full and then extends outward, beyond us, without us really even having to try. Maybe we’d be kinder to ourselves and others. Maybe we’d dig up some excess empathy to hand out to a person or two. And maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult to trust. Maybe we could trust ourselves more. Maybe we could even love ourselves more. Maybe we could see God in us, and maybe we could know without a doubt that it’s true.

Let us pray.

“And then you” by Walter Brueggemann

We arrange our lives as best we can,

To keep your holiness at bay,

With our pieties,

Our doctrines,

Our liturgies,

Our moralities,

Our secret ideologies,

Safe, virtuous, settled.

And then you –

You and your dreams,

You and your visions,

You and your purposes,

You and your commands,

You and our neighbors.

We find your holiness not at bay,

But probing, pervading,

Insisting, demanding.

And we yield, sometimes gladly,

Sometimes resentfully,

Sometimes late…. Or soon.

We yield because you, beyond us, are our God.

We are your creatures met by your holiness,

By your holiness made our true selves.

And we yield. Amen.

*artwork: Jesus Casts Out the Unclean Spirits, Painting by Limbourg Brothers