spirituality

Second Consideration: Quality Gifts

Kristin Ritzau — Sat, 10 Dec 2011 14:35:47 -0800

As my friend Laura and I walked around HomeGoods this weekend, we became keenly aware that this holiday season does a funny thing to people. There is emotion and money poured into gift-giving, but for the good of what? It was fascinating listening to conversations of another trying to justify (and accomplishing it) the need for two giant coffee carafes, one for her daughter and the other for her child granddaughter because one likes coffee and the other hot chocolate. So now they can have 12 cups of it?

It just seems ironic - this need we have to fill a void. However, I love giving gifts, and let's be honest, receiving them too. My husband recently surprised me with a last minute trip to San Diego and I was delighted and extremely grateful.

(Don't we look delighted)

He knows the gift I need is time -- and time away at that. In order to truly relax we must take quick holidays otherwise we risk being dominated by the tasks of the homestead - our tasks call us out of complacency in a life-giving way. But we need to connect in deeper ways that our home doesn't always afford because of the duties and distractions within. It will never be a place of complete hibernation. So we give each other the gift of time, of getaways (evenings out once a week and short trips a couple times a year) and of items we really need to live our lives better.

There is a weird movement happening in which our society, driven by compulsive advertising, feels like they need more stuff. And every year we hear about - the presents under the tree do not matter. But they do. Or we wouldn't buy. I'm not giving up giving gifts, but perhaps I'm no longer able to sacrifice quality.

I appreciate quality: Quality of time, of products, and people. Did you know that the number one thing people want to know is that they are missed? It's not about a certain gift - it's about quality of care. I learned that from Seth Godin's and Simon Sinek's TED talks. Godin goes on to talk about the sense of belief in something that drives us. It has not been me that has passed along the message of A Beautiful Mess -- it has been all of you because affinity has been found within the message. And for that I am indebted and grateful.

Recently, I was even given a pair of boots to try out because of some community connections. This company believed in what we are doing with our home. They had even heard about the book through other means entirely! In the past year, this company, BOGS has restructured how they do business because they believe in quality, connection and the fact that they are not just selling boots; they are selling tools for a way of life to support me. Wow, now I'm a part of something. It is the memory of my connection to these people that makes me want to tell you about the boots, because it's not about the boots; it's about the people who work there- the community.

(Necessary for anyone who lives on a homestead -or in the NW)

Moving back to Christmas, I appreciated my childhood because for me it was about a season. Did that include stuff? Sure to some extent, but what anchors me now is remembering my mom making 14 different kinds of cookies and loving every moment of the creativity. I look back on the dollhouse my grandfather handmade me and how that one act communicated more about his love for me by a man who rarely said the words.

I remember my dad picking out a Barbie car because it was his favorite dream car; our worlds connected in a way that became less about marketing and more about a single gift. I think fondly to the hours and years I played with My Little Ponies because I truly loved that little world and everyone in my family appreciated it and supported this hobby. It wasn't about distracting me with stuff -- it was about quality of time, of products and people.

For me in my core, this has always been true. It is the spirit and essence of Christmas. The message always being about quality people giving of their time and giving what they could whether they are shepherds, magi, or an infant. But I get distracted by trying to fill the void with the "perfect gift." So this year, we are trying to embody this reality by reclaiming quality and giving what we have to give.

Sure we are trying to give what is needed too and what would be enjoyed, but hopefully by reconciling a bit of that spirit, it can be less about a good deal and more about gratitude.

So how do we give gifts differently? I'm not sure I've figured it out entirely, but I think it starts with giving out of abundance instead of from a void. This abundance has nothing to do with money; it's all about what we already have, even if that is simply ourselves.

For us this year, it has meant supporting local farmers and making handmade artisan food gifts. It has meant buying from small businesses downtown and supporting our friends' local endeavors; it means believing in a company's mission rather than their great sales. It means I don't make everything by myself, but I look for those who have amazing gifts, talents and abilities to craft things I could never dream up.

It might mean Etsy instead of Target or small town instead of huge mall. It might mean the gift of time through babysitting for friends, a cooking lesson for a new bride (or groom), a weekend trip or movie tickets. It may just be a coupon for a special evening with a friend, a partner, or a child.

I'm trying to consider quality this year -- gifts that are given to improve more than just my own quality, and that means not going broke in the process too. It takes more creativity to ask and give, because after all, we're not going to stop giving gifts. However, maybe we can consider why and how we give.

First Consideration: Consider the Darkness

Kristin Ritzau — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 08:41:53 -0800

During this advent season, I will be writing about 12 considerations to ponder this Christmas. Here is the first one, stay tuned for more to come.

The holiday season literally and voraciously swept in to Southern California this past week. It was announced with gale force, hurricane-esq winds up to 80 mph on Wednesday night in the valley where we live.

As we heard part of our deck lattice crack and fly off piece by piece, we watched flashes of green every five seconds light up our bedroom as we wondered if there was a wizarding war erupting or realistically if anyone in Monrovia would have power by the morning.

Turns out these transformers exploding took our power and over a quarter of a million others' lights as well. I had wanted to start this series on the first, but in classic recovering perfectionist style, with no power or internet the last couple days, I was forced to reconsider my plan in the in-between.

What I found in this space without electricity as I drove around were lots of neighbors standing on the sidewalks talking to each other. I drove through three of the hardest hit towns on Thursday morning and every side street was littered with debris, but also with people. Neighbors were outside consoling, conversing and connecting. It takes chaos to bring us out of our comfort zones, to reconsider our friend and foe.

Last night we invited a few friends over to burn the pieces of our house that had broken off and toast to these broken pieces with mulled wine and laughter.

"I feel funny about burning your house inside your house," one of our friends remarked as we all reflected an orange glow. And it was comments like this one that gave us permission to laugh about all of it.

We huddled with our blankets, our hands wrapped around warm mugs, and I found myself with a joy I haven't felt in a while by playing in the dark.

We often view the dark as a time of retreat, solace, and introspection. Darkness is even associated with suffering, pain and disorientation, not to mention inconvenience.

Sure we kept trying to turn on the bathroom light every time we rounded the corner, but we laughed at ourselves as we carefully made our way back to the living room to grab a candle to light our way once again.

When the beep of the oven alerted us we were no longer without power, we cheered and counted down like it was New Year's Eve when we turned on the light. But we dimmed the lights low quickly after. In a weird way, we weren't ready for the power to be back on yet. We were longing for more time to be connected in the disconnect, but I think moreso there was a welcomed sense of belonging.

As the trees have been stripped bare of their colorful wardrobes and their proverbial clothes litter the streets, I am keenly aware that growth comes out this barren place. However, when I really stopped to consider this "inconvenience" of darkness, I found permission to be - permission to gather - permission to play. Permission to be okay even in the darkness of the unknown.

After turning in my Ph.D. application last weekend and agonizing over the privileged conversation of how are we going to make this all work, -- this meaning finances, time, career and possible children -- my mother's wise words rang in my ears once again, "Stop trying to control it; just trust God and let what happens happen." Sometimes we still need our moms' advice to realign with the truth.

Last night we had no control, but even when we finally did, we lingered, staying connected around a fire that would not have been possible without a storm. I was reminded to consider how it really can be fun to play in the dark; how the unknown doesn't have to be scary. It gives me a glimpse of the hope of joy that is found when we stop trying to control the unknown and, instead, live into it fully.

So . . . You're Spiritual but not Religious?

Caroline Ferdinandsen — Sun, 28 Aug 2011 10:58:00 -0700

So you’ve got problems with Church—the one with the capital C?

You grew up sitting in various pews, but after getting a dose of higher education, you’re not really into anything that smacks of organized religion. After studying the Crusades, learning what jihad really means, and reading ten bloggers rant about the Pope’s pedophile cover-up, you figure that all of these manmade institutions aren’t credible. The Church—any church—is just a nasty, manmade construct designed to give uneducated, needy people some scaffolding.

On the other hand, you also think that God probably exists, and Jesus and the Buddha and Mother Teresa were onto something good. You don’t want to adopt the atheist’s combative edge or the agnostic’s arrogant philosophizing, so you snuggle down into the cozy netherworld of Spiritual Living. It’s a one-size-fits-all accommodating worldview fed by books like Eat, Pray, Love and The Secret. Spiritual Living lets you pray for wisdom or wear cool T-shirts or even go to silent retreats where you can stare at the ocean for a long time. It’s tapas-style dining where you order tasty little samples of religion’s best ideas—without the prix fixe risk. Come to think of it, if you don’t trust the chef to choose for you, it might be better to pick a different restaurant altogether.

To the complete rejecters of the spiritual life, I applaud you, at the very least, for not being lukewarm on faith, a stance that Jesus couldn’t tolerate. You run your bathwater icy cold, and you bear the discomfort with a certain measure of pride. But to those who love constantly fiddling with the temperature, let me give you a few reasons why historical, orthodox Christianity is worth a second look.

Showing up at a local church is healthier than staying at home.

When you tell me you can pray, worship, serve, and grow nearer to God in your own way and on your own time, does it really happen? Do men and women, who are designed for fraternal loyalty and the fellowship of others, really have the self-discipline and encouragement to pursue faith in isolation?

The style of church, meeting times, and congregation may seem unorthodox, but that is not the point. You don’t have to attend a traditional, wear-a-dress, Sunday-morning congregation. But an authentic Christian believer doesn’t go for too long without craving the mutual encouragement and accountability of others in the faith. You are sure to tell me about an example or two—maybe even in your own life—when faith was sustained without community, but I will probably be skeptical. Tiny fringe groups who aren’t tethered to the historical faith are doomed to drift here and there, vulnerable both to error and narcissism.

As long as people are in charge, the Church will mess up. Get over it.

If you’re waiting for the Church’s track record to get better before you sign up, don’t bother. If you recognize that God uses the Church in spite of its members’ faults, you’ll step inside, thankful that your own jackass tendencies won’t disqualify you either. The Christian church throughout history has let everyone through its doors—the sick, lonely, rich, educated, ghetto-dwelling, insane, arrogant, beautiful, and homely. If you weren’t welcome at your last church, then try again. That particular congregation had it wrong and will figure out their mistake before long. Another congregation might be further along, so don’t give up so easily.

The Church is a hospital where you get to be both a doctor and a patient.

When you join with what the Bible calls “the Body of Christ,” you have access to a radically different kind of HMO (Hope Maintenance Organization). On your healthiest days, God calls you to restore and love; on your sickest days, you have others tending to your bedside. People who ditch the church have cancelled their spiritual healthcare plan.

The Bible is precise in its instruction to the Christian churches. Its members love and restore, offer correction and spiritual rehabilitation, care and are cared for—all in a tightly interconnected (and even mysterious) web of love. The Church becomes the hands and feet of Jesus Christ himself. Those who have made spirituality a one-man show can neither love or be loved by any person besides themselves.

Orthodox Christianity changes people from the inside out, not the other way around.

Every other major religion, including the Judaism from which Christianity was born, requires external obligations of perfection and discipline: be, do, obey, perform. The gospel of Jesus Christ offers us something entirely different: a supernatural grace that carries us from death to life. This transformation causes our spirit to crave obedience and good works in a way that makes little sense to the rest of the world.

Participating in random, spiritual acts like focused breathing, charitable acts, or positive thinking relies on either willpower or manipulating biology—precisely why people like it so much. It produces a veneer of good will and well being that we are likely to find among secular humanists and do-gooders. It’s the solution that takes us only half way, by giving us a semblance of peace in this life, but with little power to affect the human soul or eternity.

The Kingdom of God is bigger than your individual needs.

In the giant narrative that is God’s story, God is the main character. Our attraction to Spiritual Living is borne out of our fascination with having the leading role, writing our lines every morning depending on our mood and personal whims. In another essay, I wrote that we must let God write the script and cast his own play—that having seven billion screenwriters is a bad idea. (“If we had it our way, I can only imagine the freakish movies full of nothing but leads. Wedding scenes with a hundred brides and no guests, funerals with nothing but corpses.”)

Smart people like to be in control, and submitting to a God that Christians frequently call Lord might feel like ancient feudalism. At some point, however, you will be broken beyond belief, unable to fix yourself. It will eventually happen when your own desires lead you to spiritual desperation. And if you still don’t believe me, then you haven’t reached the end of your life yet when everyone succumbs to the universal fate we call death. Death cannot be fixed. It’s one plot line you can’t write out of your play.

So, these five reasons may seem paradoxically selfish. On one hand, becoming part of orthodox Christianity asks you to give it all away while, on the other hand, it gives you everything back. I suppose that’s one of the great mysteries of my Christian faith, where its doctrine includes crazy reversals like how King Jesus was actually a humble servant and when I die, I live.

If you decide to simply be spiritual—and you do reject orthodox Christianity—at least keep your eyes wide open while you’re wandering the roads. They lead to nowhere in particular toward nothing specific for reasons not too clear. But don’t panic: Jesus and his Church won’t be far if ever you should change your mind.

Relationships, theology, and suffering play important roles in spiritual growth

Todd Hall — Wed, 13 Apr 2011 17:29:36 -0700

This is the fifth and final reflection in this blog series on the spirituality of students at Christian colleges. We asked students across the United States to rate how various aspects of the school environment and programs impacted their spiritual development, ranging from very negative to very positive.

The top three growth facilitators were peer relationships, working through suffering, and Bible/theology classes. This, and numerous findings from both studies, highlight the centrality of relationships and a biblical worldview for spiritual development. This suggests that we need to communicate a theological framework for growing through relationships, and for the role of suffering in spiritual growth. In addition, we need to develop a relational environment that will help students process their suffering in a growth-producing way.

This is a stage when students begin put together the theological pieces of a Christian worldview. A junior I interviewed, who I’ll call Steve, talked about how he views his whole faith differently as a result of his Bible/theology classes at Biola.

“There were all these things that I guess I didn’t think about before and didn’t really know existed from my faith in middle school and high school, before Biola,” he said. “So I would get in the Word but there was no theological understanding of piecing things together from Scripture. … I just feel like there has been this whole transformation of the way I view God and Christ and even my relationship with him.”

A Christian worldview, however, must transcend our head knowledge and permeate our souls. Research clearly indicates that a biblical worldview, morality and character become real in one’s life through close relationships, one of which is our relationship with God. Close human relationships, particularly with authority figures, are also crucial to help students see what it looks like in real life to live out integrity, a biblical worldview and, most of all, love.

Processing suffering is another catalyst of spiritual growth, because it often gives us access to deep places in our soul that move us away from God — places we would not otherwise know existed. Trials shake up our negative gut-level expectations of God and other important people in our lives. Working through trials, however, always occurs in the context of relationships and community.

A group of scholars recently developed the idea of “authoritative communities” as the kind of community that is necessary for human development. These are communities that provide structure (e.g., morality is embedded in the community) and love and warmth. These communities have an idea, even if implicit, of what it means to be a good person, and the leaders provide love to the younger members in order to help them become good people. I hope and pray that Biola and all Christian colleges are becoming this kind of community for our students.

Students tend to fit one of five Christian spirituality types

Todd Hall — Tue, 12 Apr 2011 16:58:02 -0700

Every student has unique needs. There is no “one size fits all” spiritual growth plan. While colleges and universities can't tailor spiritual growth programs for every individual, they can start to identify groups of students with different needs. The Spiritual Transformation Inventory (STI) and the national data from this project help us move in this direction.

We found five different types or groups in terms of their pattern of scores on the 22 scales. This suggests that we need to identify these groups so that we can tailor spiritual formation plans to their needs.

· Type 1 (21.4 percent of the sample) is secure and engaged; in other words, quite spiritually mature for this stage. This group was highly secure in their sense of connection to God and highly spiritually engaged in practices and community. We need to further strengthen these mature students and encourage them toward leadership.

· Type 2 (15.2 percent) can be described as distant yet engaged. They reported a distant connection with God, and were moderately engaged in spiritual practices and community. We need to help this group develop relationships in which they feel seen and known to address their distant connection to God.

· Type 3 (25 percent) has average security and engagement. This group reported an average degree of security with God and spiritual engagement. We need to help these students find their strengths, and connect more deeply with God and their spiritual communities.

· Type 4 (27.2 percent) can be described as anxious and disengaged. This group was highly insecure in their connection to God (mainly anxious) and moderately low in their spiritual engagement. This group needs help with developing what attachment theory calls a “secure base”; that is, a deep, gut-level sense that caregivers are consistently responsive to their emotional and relational needs.

· Type 5 (11.2 percent) is insecure and disengaged. This group was highly insecure (both distant and anxious connection to God) and very low in their engagement in practices and community. This group is the most spiritually immature, and represents a high-risk group for emotional problems and dropout. We need to proactively identify these students and mentor them at the beginning of their freshman year.

The Five Spirituality Types

I used a statistical technique called “cluster analysis” to place students into groups based on similar patterns in their responses on the 22 scales that make up the Spiritual Transformation Inventory.

Secure and engaged: 21.4%

Distant yet engaged: 15.2%

Average security and engagement: 25%

Anxious and disengaged: 27.2%.

Insecure and disengaged: 11.2%

Stay tuned for the final reflection from this national study...

Shadow of Myself: A Confession

Kristin Ritzau — Mon, 04 Apr 2011 20:02:21 -0700

I forgot something the last couple of months and for that I must apologize. You made me remember. I have forgotten myself.

Last week when I pieced together the pictures of our homestead, I was struck by the surge of energy I had in working on it as well as the almost 200 visits (and counting) to that entry in particular.

I’ve been in a season of emergence. A season where new dreams and desires are materializing while also colliding with other’s expectations and voices. In this process, I lost my voice.

It wasn’t abused or beaten down – it just became hidden while I tried to envision my life in and through other people’s eyes. My writing became project driven and uninspired. It was hard to show up to myself and to others around me.

This all happened quietly and subtly. Writing and expressing myself were harder as I tried to think about what others would want to read instead of what I wanted to say. Creating was even worse as it became forced and bland. And I was eating quickly and too much – trying to take in as much of life as I could, but it was never satisfying and left me feeling ill and bloated. Some people call this a funk.

However, I think I am coming out of it.

I found my voice last week rather quickly after I posted the evolution blog. It was met with some discord in a public arena that made me question whether or not I should have spoken up. But then a few brave souls came forward and said I had expressed what they were thinking and the small snowball started to roll once again. My pain, passion, and ache for safe space found its way forth through the muck – at first I thought I caused embarrassment and more unnecessary pain. But as it turns out, taking the back seat to my life by way of silence and drudgery is no way to move forward in my journey.

I have to keep going, first for myself, and then the vocation I am called to. I had deceived myself and you by trying to fade into a shadow of myself. I felt like my writing had to be magnificent or scholar-worthy instead of just being me. This became obvious when I had over 100 hits on the website in 24 hours of faithful followers who just wanted to see our yard… our life…. A slice of authenticity. I realized then that this is not about being a genius, it’s about getting back to the mess, to the beauty, to my soul and its ache to communicate.

So I am beginning again, a new season of light and darkness; a new side of my voice is coming through. Only by living with pain and expressing it safely will healing come. As John O’Donohue says, “Life itself is the great sacrament through which we are wounded and healed. If we live everything, life will be faithful to us.” So I’m going to try to live everything once again. This does not mean “doing everything.” It means not ignoring the depth of grief, difference, and suffering in the world and in me; knowing that facing the woundedness is the only way to bring healing. And it starts with me…. again. It’s going to be an interesting ride … so stay tuned.

Seniors Report Lower Spiritual Vitality than Freshman

Todd Hall — Sun, 26 Dec 2010 19:23:34 -0800

This is the second reflection in this blog series on the spirituality of students at Christian colleges. When we look at how students’ spirituality changes over time, many of the indicators of spiritual development went down over time, but some went up. For example, scores trended worse on the frequency of spiritual disciplines, the centrality of faith and an anxious connection to God, but better on an overall sense of spiritual well-being. On national data collected at one point in time, we found that seniors scored lower than freshmen on 19 of the 22 measures.

How do we make sense of this? When we look at this in the context of brain development and “emerging adulthood,” I think this is probably a normal developmental trajectory. The brain goes through a massive reorganization between the ages of 12 and 18, and this continues into the early 20s. Parallel to these brain changes, students’ identity, sense of self, and worldview all go through an extensive reorganization during this period as well. With all this brain and identity reorganization, it makes sense that this is a time of spiritual instability.

Jeffrey Arnett captured a developmental phenomenon that has been growing for the past 50 years with the concept of “emerging adulthood,” roughly the age span of 18 to 29. Emerging adults tend to feel somewhat like a kid, and somewhat like an adult, but not fully like either one. In this stage, students are at a spiritual crossroads: They are figuring out what kind of person they want to be, what kind of people they want to travel life with and what kind of work they want to do. They are also figuring out what role they want God to play in their lives. This leads them to travel many pathways in a short period of time. This means that manifestations of their spirituality will often go down.

It may be, however, that decreases on some indicators of spiritual development during the college years actually reflect a deepening of one’s faith. This is a period that often requires a certain deconstruction of one’s identity, sense of self, and worldview in order to build the foundation for an adult identity and a more mature spirituality.

In light of this, I suspect that as we interview seniors in the current study we are conducting, we will find evidence that their spirituality is deeper than that of freshmen, even though they report lower scores than freshmen on self-report measures. Connecting interviews to self report measures will help us better understand spiritual development during emerging adulthood.

Stay tuned for the next blog in this series....

Spiritual Profiling Part 1

Conversant Live — Mon, 06 Dec 2010 16:13:04 -0800

These days we talk a lot about "pluralism"--indicating the variety of religious and moral beliefs in our culture--as if that's a new concept. In fact, the world in the first century, when Jesus walked the earth, was far more religiously pluralistic than most of us imagine. He met, ate alongside, and conversed with secular leaders, detached believers, traditional power players, and many others. From every perspective, Jesus' world looked a lot like our world.

In Spiritual Profiling, a fascinating new book by Tom Hovestol, these two worlds come together in a dynamic way. ConversantLife.com is excited to feature Tom and his book, which shows how Jesus would have interacted with people today--both religious and secular. Through extensive research into the practices and mindsets of people living at the time of Jesus, Tom uncovered eight distinct groups and gave each one a "spiritual profile."

In Part 1 of our 4-part video interview, Tom talks about the first two groups in his book. First are the Gentiles, which we would call the "unchurched" today. These are people who have littile or no connection with the one true God or the church. The other group of people Jesus encountered were the detached Jews, which we might refer to as church "drop outs." These are people who have been hurt or lost hope, or found their expectations unmet, or found their participation in church unappreciated.

Maybe you can identify with one of these two groups of people. If not, there are six more spiritual profiles to come, so check back right here in the coming days and weeks. Find out how Jesus may have connected with you.

Tom Hovestol - Pt. 1 from ConversantLife on Vimeo.

Spirituality at a Crossroads: The Spiritual Lives of Students at Christian Colleges

Todd Hall — Mon, 15 Nov 2010 22:38:31 -0800

This is an introduction to a six-part blog series based on an article I wrote for the Biola Magazine (Fall, 2010) summarizing five years of research on the spirituality of students at Christian colleges. In each of the next five blogs I will consider and expand on one of five reflections synthesized from the data. In this blog, I provide a brief overview of the research projects and the theoretical model driving my research program on spiritual transformation.

One of the most important goals of Christian colleges and universities is to help students grow spiritually and develop their character. Likewise, one of the biggest challenges Christian universities (like Biola where I teach) face is evaluating how we are doing in this area. In fact, secular accrediting agencies have begun asking such schools for evidence that they are assessing and improving student spiritual development, since it is a core part of our mission.

Spirituality can never be evaluated perfectly, but I believe we can obtain helpful indicators of where people are in their spiritual development process. The whole issue of measuring spirituality is a complex one beyond the focus of this blog series, but I will address this in another blog post. Before we start measuring anything, however, we need a theologically and psychologically informed theory of spiritual maturity and development.

For the past 15 years, I have been working on such a model of spiritual development. The Reader’s Digest

version is that theology, psychology and brain science are converging in suggesting that spiritual development is about loving relationships with God and others, and that relationships change our brain, soul, and ability to love. As author Robert Karen eloquently put it: “We are loved into loving.” I call this model “relational spirituality."

This journey has led me to develop ways of measuring and assessing relational spirituality, which in turn led to the pursuit of research on the spirituality of students attending Christian colleges in the hopes of helping these colleges answer the crucial question: Are our students growing spiritually?

In 2003, I headed up a talented research team in launching a large study designed to track the spiritual development of 500 Christian college students from freshman to senior year. Funded by The John Templeton Foundation and Biola, the research involved in depth interviews and twice-a-year surveys about each student’s spiritual practices and relationship with God.

A year later, I began a second research project that allowed Christian colleges to measure 22 indicators of students’ spiritual lives using the Spiritual Transformation Inventory (STI) that I developed in the early stages of the four-year tracking study. To date, more than 3,000 students from nearly 40 Christian colleges across the United States and Canada have participated. Together, the studies provide a fascinating snapshot of how students at Christian colleges are doing spiritually. And some of the results might surprise you.

Stay tuned for the next blog in the series as I offer the first of five brief reflections synthesized from five years of national data and the four-year longitudinal study.

Spiritual Tipping Points: Mindfulness and Contemplative Prayer

Todd Hall — Thu, 14 Oct 2010 17:06:43 -0700

As I continue this brief series on spiritual tipping points, in this blog I want to address two related spiritual practices that can pave the way for tipping points: mindfulness and contemplative prayer. The practice of mindful awareness has to do with focusing your attention on your direct experience in the present moment, and fostering a certain orientation to your experience characterized by curiosity, openness, acceptance, and love. It is a core component of centering, or contemplative prayer within the Christian tradition. Mindful awareness isn’t just being aware in a general sense. It has to do with being aware of aspects of your mind, and this can be done in the context of prayer. So it is being aware of your mind and soul, and bringing your true self into relationship with God. These kinds of practices have been difficult for me, but they have also been tremendously helpful. When I think of mindfulness and contemplative prayer, I think of some of the teachings of ancient spiritual directors.

One interesting teaching, for example, is that the Desert Fathers believed that their spiritual advice took full effect only after the spiritual advisee returned home and pondered the “father’s” words in silence without distractions. I think the emphasis on silence (and solitude) here is very instructive and ties in with the idea of mindfulness. Daniel Siegel, in his book The Mindful Brain, notes that there are six aspects of mindfulness: awareness of multiple perspectives, non-reactivity to experience, observing sensation, acting with awareness, labeling, and being nonjudgmental of one’s experience.

These experiences are difficult to maintain, but I think they unfold primarily through silence and solitude. Many of us in contemporary society have the experience of being “always on”—constantly bombarded with some kind of stimuli or with demands on us. I have come to see that if I don’t make an intentional effort, it is easy to never be alone with my thoughts and with God. Attending to the stimuli that bombard us from the outside is precisely the opposite of mindfulness. We give up control over what we focus our attention on, and the result is that we don’t attend to our own mind or to God. In addition, our attention is scattered in such a state, making it difficult for new thoughts, new information, and new perspectives to emerge.

Silence and solitude help us to focus our attention on our mind-in-Christ, and to allow new things to emerge. As we practice silence, we develop the capacity to be present in the moment. The present moment is the only place we begin to be aware of our sensations, our observations of our own mind, and of a knowing that has a more direct quality to it than conceptual knowledge. This is a gradual process that takes a lot of intentionality, but as we develop the capacity to be mindfully aware—to be present in the moment—we come to more easily hold multiple perspectives; we become less reactive to our experiences; we observe our sensations; we act with a deep awareness of our own mind; we label and translate our experiences in a way that doesn’t remove them from their experiential nature; and we don’t judge our experience automatically in an autopilot mode. All of these aspects of mindful awareness prepare the way for tipping points—for deep shifts in our soul and our ability to love others.

Stayed tuned as we continue this series and talk next time about being present.

Question: What has helped you to be mindful of yourself and God?