The spiritual journey causes us to confront the crises of our lives in ways that
challenge us. The journey may not create more crises for us (some would say it does create more crises), but it does alter how we deal with life and it challenges us to stretch in ways that are not always comfortable for us. In classes I often say to folks that if we knew at the outset what the spiritual journey entailed, many of us would say, Thanks, but no thanks before we ever began. We have nice lives. Bad things happen. We cope and get along. We can easily excuse ourselves from the pain, difficulty, and challenge of spiritual growth.
God addresses our resistance at several levels. One way God seems to deal with us is to lead us by clouds. This is the way God led the Israelites out of Egypt, guiding them by a pillar of cloud (Exodus 13:21). I’ve always felt that God led them by cloud so they could not see where they were going. Had they been able to see the way ahead of them, the difficulties that lay ahead, they would have turned back into Egypt! As with Abram, God says to us, Go to the land I will show you (Genesis 12:1). It is an unknown destination, a real pilgrimage. Most often the end-point looks very cloudy.
One of our spiritual mentors from the 16th century, John of the Cross, is helpful here. He writes about how God challenges us to grow, sometimes taking us kicking and screaming, through what he calls in Latin the spiritus vertiginis. We would translate that phrase as a spirit of confusion or more literally a spirit of dizziness.
John uses Isaiah 19:14 as his text. His teaching here is particularly challenging for me, and it may be for you as well. Here is why. When I am in one of these cloud of unknowing times, when I can’t see in front of me, when the way before me is unclear, my default inner response is, If only I could understand things, I could make things right. Or, If only I work a little harder, I can straighten out this situation. Or, If only I pray in this way or that way, I can fix this situation by my prayer. I may resolve to be more disciplined in prayer, more faithful in my daily discipline, more upright in my life, thought, and speech patterns. All of that may sound good, but in essence, I’m thinking and acting as if personal growth and progress on the spiritual journey were entirely up to me.
Why am I writing this? Because I sense that I’m not alone here. Many folks are like me. We try to do our spiritual journeys the way we do the rest of life. We want to understand, work harder, do the right things. In short, at least for me, it boils down to wanting to be in charge.
If I understand something, I can control it (or so I believe).
If I work harder, I can control the destiny (I should know better by now!).
If I do the right things, the proper results will happen (I haven’t yet learned that this doesn’t work?).
I have to be reminded continually that the spiritual journey is not a problem to be solved, a path to be understood, or a way for me to be in charge. The essence of the journey is about letting go, surrendering my will to God, and following Jesus as faithfully as possible, even into the cloudy darkness. The journey does not depend on my understanding, hard work, frantic mental activity, or religious fervor.
One of my teachers, Bruce Demarest, says, We are all on a journey to a destination we have never seen, on a path we have never traveled before. In my saner moments, I realize it’s a good thing that I’m not in charge of this journey.
