The invisible becomes visible, and it takes our breath away

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I’m Not Ready to Let Go of the Christian Story

I’ve been thinking about music, lately. This year’s Spotify Wrapped reflected something to me: while I experience God in my everyday life in so many places, my soul is still deeply drawn to songs that proclaim ALL IS NOT LOST.

Over the past 8 years, the way I see things that I used to be “certain” of has been shifting and deepening. I’m resting in and wrestling with the mystery of it all. There’s still something deeply grounding for me about hearing a chorus of voices telling the familiar story.

I’m not ready to let it go.

A New Way of Seeing

I’ve discovered an underground stream, a new way of seeing that doesn’t diminish the guiding story of Christianity, but has helped me experience a vibrancy I wasn’t able to perceive before.

The story has taken on a new dimension for me this year. It’s like I found a pair of 3D glasses, and when I put them on, everything was the same and exquisitely different. I began to ask, “Is this what others have been seeing all along?”

I awoke from a dream several years ago with an image I sensed as an invitation to a new way of orienting to my faith and the Christian story.

We Feel Left Out If It’s Not Happening for Us

Do you remember the Magic Eye books?

The creator’s website describes these as “Magic Eye 3D illusions that ignited the worldwide 3D craze of the 1990’s.” 😄

“Magic eye pictures, also known as stereograms, work by presenting two different images to each eye, which the brain then combines to create a 3D image.”

My dad, a college professor ever-fascinated by learning, brought one home with exuberance. I remember his exhortations to “RELAX YOUR EYES.”

When I googled Magic Eye, I found this answer to the question “How do you help someone see a stereogram?”

“Don't try to focus on the stereogram. Instead, try focusing on an object or even an imaginary dot behind it. Relax your eyes. With the stereogram in front of you, look at the image but allow your eyes to naturally diverge so it becomes blurry or even doubled.”

At first glance, what we see is a simple illustration. But as we gaze into the art, and relax our eyes, a 3D image emerges.

Sometimes it takes quite a while to relax our eyes. We strain to see what others are seeing and describing. We feel left out if it’s not happening for us.

Once others see the 3D image, especially with apparent ease, they urge us on. This urgency adds to our stress, and we are tempted to strain all the more.

The Invisible Becomes Visible

And then one day when no one is around, we pick it up, skeptical and without expectation, and it happens.

The invisible becomes visible, and it takes our breath away.

The new picture doesn’t diminish the original picture, but you can’t unsee the mysterious, non-obvious center.

This is how it has been for me with my faith. As the eyes of my heart have relaxed (very slowly most of the time and, at other times, suddenly) — by way of a holy, self-preserving intelligence to push against it — I perceived the thread of Love running through the story.

I have a sense that when we experience Love and interconnectedness like this — even for a brief moment — we encounter a “knowing” that we are loved and all is well. We feel less bound to the need for pieces to make sense in the way they were presented to us.

A Playful Image of the Kingdom of God

With this in mind, today I’m offering you a playful attempt to describe my sense of the story — an indescribable one — yet folks throughout the ages have been offering us what they see from what they are.

This is art, friends.

I imagine that the elements of this story as an entire reality imbued into each moment — past, present, and future.

• GOD WITH US and IN US, breathing the world into being in love and creation.

• GOD WITH US and IN US, entering into the story of humanity in love and vulnerability.

• GOD WITH US and IN US, deeply affected by and in solidarity with human suffering.

• GOD WITH US and IN US, as we love and accompany each other.

• GOD WITH US and IN US, inviting us to love the world.

Jesus Said the “Kingdom of God” is Here and Now. It’s Among Us.

We can’t see it fully or name it adequately, but we know it when it blows by us — a fragrance, a moment of unexpected mercy, the way we feel connected to the cries of people we’ve never met like they are family — the felt sense is unmistakable.

It cannot be colonized or mastered, but you can get a feel for moving with it.

It’s a WIDE place — ALL are welcome here — but it’s harder to perceive the closer we get to power and self-sufficiency.

There’s no sugar-coating what seeing this way invites — many small deaths — laying down our egos, our weapons, our rights, and very slowly over time, the pain we aren’t ready to let go of yet.

We will not do this perfectly, nor are we asked to. We will hurt people out of an overflow of our pain.

Somehow, Love makes this bearable. As we string our moments of healing together, we’ll be able to bear the weight of that and step into each present-moment invitation.

As we notice our fear and scarcity, or we sense that we’re bracing, we can learn to soften into our held-ness (aka: Surrender) — to fall through our fear — into a Love that sees us and says YES.

This YES calls forth in us the courage to take steps Love’s way.

Surrender leads to resurrection — the possibility of a different quality of aliveness here and now.

Resurrection makes participation irresistible, taking us back to the beginning of this (imaginary and imperfect) cycle.

What If…

What if it’s never too late to awaken to this story?

What if we’re all IN?

What if relaxing our eyes also helps us see ourselves, which changes the way we relate to ourselves?

What if this way of seeing ourselves changes the way we see and relate to others?

Holding Spacious Questions

As I hold this playful image of the “kingdom,” here are some questions I’m pondering in my heart, and I’d like to invite you to hold these with me if they resonate with you.

• How do we hold the tension between telling this story and moving with this mystery, undergirded by deep trust that Love is making all things new, drawing us into a story that only makes sense to us as we experience it on our own lives.

• How do we invite others into this process of allowing the construct to fall away (even temporarily) to perceive this Love without colonizing their experience?

• How do I develop the inner safety to trust that each person in my care is exactly where they are supposed to be in their own story, that each season in our spiritual geography is right, necessary, and beautiful?

All Are Welcome Here

This song has been on repeat since Spotify Wrapped came out. I forgot about it. Listening to Haugen’s imagination is drawing me into a hopeful glimpse of what an inclusive, humanizing way of being together might include.

Let us build a house where love can dwell
and all can safely live.
A place where saints and children
tell how hearts learn to forgive.

Built of hopes and dreams and visions,
rock of faith and vault of grace.
Here the love of Christ shall end divisions:
All are welcome, all are welcome,
all are welcome in this place.

Let us build a house where prophets speak,
and words are strong and true.
Where all God’s children dare to seek
to dream God’s reign anew.
Here the cross shall stand as witness
and as symbol of God’s grace.
Here as one we claim the faith of Jesus:
All are welcome, all are welcome,
all are welcome in this place.

Let us build a house where love is found,
in water, wine and wheat.
A banquet hall on holy ground,
where peace and justice meet.
Here the love of God, through Jesus,
is revealed in time and space,
as we share in Christ the feast that frees us;
All are welcome, all are welcome,
all are welcome in this place.

Let us build a house where hands will reach
beyond the wood and stone.
To heal and strengthen, serve and teach,
and live the Word they’ve known.
Here the outcast and the stranger bear
the image of God’s face.
Let us bring an end to fear and danger;
All are welcome, all are welcome,
all are welcome in this place.

Let us build a house where all are named,
their songs and visions heard.
And loved and treasured, taught and
claimed as words within the Word.
Built of tears and cries and laughter,
prayers of faith and songs of grace.
Let this house proclaim from floor to rafter;
All are welcome, all are welcome,
all are welcome in this place.

All Are Welcome by Marty Haugen

I’ve collaged some of the songs that Spotify reminded me I listen to a lot in case you’re curious. I’ve mixed in a few others. Together, I think they represent my resting in and wrestling with the mystery. [Enter at your own risk. You’ll need to relax your critical, analytical mind and enter this playlist with your heart.]

Questions for Reflection:

Is there something in this email that is resonant or that you resist?

If so, how would it be to hold that felt sense with curiosity (in a journal, conversation, movement, or artistic expression)?

Would you like some company or gentle guidance as you listen for wisdom and explore new ways of engaging with your soul? I offer spacious accompaniment and trauma-informed spiritual direction. I’d love to hear what’s stirring in you and meet with you for a free exploration session.