Lectio Divina

All that God wants of us is to know his love.

(--Michael Leach "Bathed in Sweet Mercy)

And how do we come to know --- that is, to experience -- His love?

I think Michael Leach is exactly right.  Once we know God's love for us, everything changes.  Only then can we begin to walk in His love and to do the right things.  But until we grow still, it is hard for us to experience God's love for us.  Our days are filled with distractions; our minds, crowded with things we have to get done, and we have grown used to nightly entertainment as a way to still our bodies and souls so that we can sleep.

Maybe the reason we are commanded to "keep holy the Sabbeth" -- which means "stopping" -- is to force us to sit, to stop long enough to focus on the love of God for us and for the world He made.  Even then, we tend to fill the time with being busy or being distracted -- golf on television, if we can find nothing better to do.  Even then, our minds do not "stop;" they are still "anxious about many things," keeping us from focusing on God's love and providence for us.  Attending church helps, if we can only allow ourselves to be present in the moment and not somewhere else in our minds, waiting for the service to end so that we can resume our "real" lives.

The Jews have always taught that man's obligation is to study as well as to pray.  Every Jewish boy learns Hebrew in order to be able to read, or study, the Torah.  And American universities were originally founded that men (sorry, women) could read and study Scripture.

A great spiritual writer wrote that lectio divina, or spiritual reading, is like the bark of the tree, protecting our life and growth from disease and insects that would destroy our peace --- and reflection on what we read is like the sap that nourishes the tree, or our minds.  Unless we supply our minds and souls with nourishment, we are prey to anxieties, fears, woundedness, helplessness, and every other kind of attack on our souls.  Once we take up the Scriptures, or commentaries and reflections on them, we protect our very lives. 

The richness and fullness of Scripture -- and of course, of spiritual writers who are nourished by Scripture--drives out negativity, fear, anxiety, and, as Jesus says, "sets us free."  To read slowly and meditatively is to chew our food and to relish its taste.  To focus on what we read is to allow the love of God to seep into our very bones.

Sometimes, sleeplessness can be a gift.  During the day, it is hard to "be still and know that I am God" (Ps. 46:10), but in the still of the night, we are not usually busy about other things.  It is a wonderful time to slowly read a good book, one that opens our minds and hearts to the love of God.

Even in our reading during the day, we rush to finish -- or we are thinking that we shouldn't be sitting here reading when there are so many other things to be done.  But during the night -- well, what else is there to do? 

Most of us, when awake in the middle of the night, feel frustrated that we cannot sleep.  But maybe God is trying to talk to us and just can't find any other time when we'll be still and listen to Him.  Maybe instead of Ambien, we just need the embrace of God's love.