The lament of a failed contemplative

Despite my earnest desire to enter into the contemplative experience—to lose myself in the presence of God—I just can’t seem to get it right. I suspect that I am spiritually ADHD (attention deficiency mixed with hyperactivity), although to many people I appear calm and even wise on the outside.

It’s not that I haven’t tried. I’ve been trying for years, doing the breathing exercises, choosing and saying a “prayer word” (which is never “om”), arranging the atmosphere, lighting the candle, etc. And sometimes it does, indeed, work. Sometimes, many times actually, I sense the sweet presence of Jesus, to the point of tears and shivers. But it only lasts for a short time, and I’m talking seconds, not even minutes.

Recently I had a conversation with three good friends about Quaker mysticism, and I claimed to be one. A Quaker mystic. My friends wisely observed that I probably wasn’t, at least not yet. The more I think back on that conversation, the more I think they’re possibly right. Although I still wrestle with the question of just what, exactly, is a Quaker mystic. So much hinges on definitions.

At any rate I’ve recently read two more books on how to do it. The authors encouraged me to keep on keeping on, as the cliché goes, and I recommend them to whoever else out there desires to be a contemplative, Quaker or otherwise. The first book is God of Intimacy and Action: Reconnecting Ancient Spiritual Practices, Evangelism, and Justice by Tony Campolo and Mary Albert Darling. What I appreciate about this book is that it integrates, as the title suggests, the desire for contemplative prayer, the longing to lead other people to Jesus, and the passion to be active in social justice issues. Too often in our churches people gravitate to one of the three emphases, to the neglect of the others. We Quakers do that well. The authors give practical suggestions as well as examples to flesh out their wonderfully holistic vision of the Christian life.

The second book, by my friend (also Friend) Richard Foster, certainly encourages me and gives me hope that if I continue to show up, God will meet me. I intend to re-read Sanctuary of the Soul: Journey into Meditative Prayer. In fact, I intend to re-read both books, for while I found them both helpful and encouraging, I still haven’t got it right.

The other morning, I was lamenting my failure and nibbling on sunflower seeds, when I saw a connection. (That’s one thing I am good at—seeing connections, sometimes to the point of the ridiculous.) So I wrote this little poem. And felt better. Humor always helps.

Confession of a Failed Contemplative

Contemplative prayer is a lot like
snacking on sunflower seeds.
You just know something good
is waiting for you. That tangy taste
that teases the tongue tells you
a treat is in store if you only
keep probing. So you bite it in half,
suck the salt from the shells,
nibble the seed, small but savory,
then wonder if that’s
all there is.