20/7/2025
I have a desire to share what just happened to me, mostly with people I know. Not because I am afraid to share it with strangers, but because I want others to see what I just saw. I feel as if I share with someone what just happened, and they went “ok” or “meh” or “whatever”, that it would somehow lessen the IS that it was. But that may not be the case. Perhaps it’s not up to me to decide that; perhaps I just need to share and let it be. God will decide. I leave it in His care.
I want to try and capture what just happened while the experience is fresh in my mind. I first had the prompt to write back in February. Since then, I’ve been trying to unravel that call and understand what it looks like, what structure I should create or follow. I have entertained many ideas and forms, rolling them over in my mind, considering options. It was like a living, undulating mass that had yet to take structure. It would turn and twist, giving me more clues, eliminating options, growing, morphing, but never fully forming. And just now, I saw a very large piece of it. It may or may not be the whole, only time will tell, but it is enough to move forward with more intent than I previously had. I have an idea, an outline, a structure for my book. It hit me during the Sunday morning prayer in Taizé. The main idea, the core of the book, is that there is more to reality, a level higher, so to speak, than we humans are on. There are many ways to phrase that concept and lots to unpack, hence the book. And the contents of the realization, that outline, played out in the service in an amazingly beautiful way. As I was musing in TFS (the flow state, as I call it), cataloging and making notes about my realization, I went to partake of the supper. As my senses took in the bread, the taste, the feel, the smell, the words ran through my head, “as surely as we eat this bread, so surely we take into our life the body of Christ”. And I saw. I tasted HIM. In that moment, I had communion with God. The word moment seems a bit misleading. It was a moment in the sense that it occurred in time, and yet it was more; it was beyond. The sheer wonder of it all is beyond my comprehension. I will never hunger again. I found what I was looking for. And to think that it was but a taste!
Words are one way we communicate with each other about reality, and they seem to fall so utterly short right now in trying to capture the reality that I tasted. All of a sudden, the grander of the structure, the writing realization that I saw seems dull. What an empty, shallow… words fail in both directions. I can’t capture the essence of that moment in them, and I can’t describe how utterly drab they are when trying to describe what is was not. I felt as if I could fly. Terrible way to describe it, I didn’t feel that way at all. I thought that merely as an attempt to convey the wonder, the superiority, the “more than this” ness that it was. That thought was an attempt to convey that, but saying it felt wrong, like it was a distraction from the thing itself.
All the words I’m saying are hollow, empty, unreal; they lack it. This is partly because words point to a thing but are not the thing itself. They attest to and describe reality, but they are not reality. I think of Lewis’s struggle in A Grief Observed, trying not to forget Joy; the actual person, not a copy or a fake, but her.
Maybe there is something to monasteries. There is a lot of noise in the world that can distract us. One of the benefits of monasteries is that they dampen that noise; they provide a space so you can be still and know Him. We can see God anywhere; we don’t need to be in a specific spot. In a way, the place matters but more so the heart, for that is where the Spirit of God dwells. Who am I to say why it happened where it did? I will content myself with the fact that it did happen at all; the place is of no consequence that I can see. Many sections of my life have been directed towards a fuller comprehension of reality; drawing closer to Christ, becoming more like Him, growing in grace; I feel as if I was just propelled forward at a significant pace. Racing on into the rising sun, the brilliant dazzling splendor of Him; drawn in to His presence, welcomed, made a little more like Him, a little more real.
I see in part why the gospel spread by the power of the Spirit after Christ’s accension and how quickly the church grew. If that is what those first Christians experienced weekly or daily, and it informed and permeated their lives? No wonder the rapid expansion, no wonder the calm peace of those being thrown to the lions or burnt alive. How easy it must have been to endure such trivial disturbances to their nature when they had reality itself burning within their hearts with such an intensity that it shone into the world. Some were blinded by its brilliance and simplicity. For others, it shone upon the path, illuminated the way back to God; they could be part of what IS again. What a simple choice to cast away the material, the mortal, the things that pass away so that both hands may be free to embrace eternity itself.
Time passes and the glory begins to fade. Not because it fades in itself, it is self-contained. But it fades from my perspective, my memory, the recollection of experiencing it; the imprint isn’t as strong on my mind and heart. Blast this curse! I long for that taste to last and become more and more, to be all encompassing, to fill me. I want to spend forever examining its depths, reveling in its wonder, beauty, power, and glory; come to know it more, deeper, further up and further in. What a promise of things to come that I have just seen. All glory be to the One who IS who WAS and who is to come; the Almighty, everlasting God of all creation, the great I AM, Yahweh. He alone is worthy of praise, He alone deserves worship, for He alone made us and it is in and through Him alone that we have life and life more abundantly. One day, my Lord, one day I will feast with You in paradise. The taste will be a meal; an endless feast with new layers and wonder at every turn. One day I will be completely real. I hold to this promise but only because it is attached to You; it is the anchor to You and it is in You alone that I trust, hope, and believe in to make it come to pass. You are the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end. In my flesh I shall see God.