Wrestling with Everything

One of my more recent posts (“When the Bible Offends”) got me thinking.

Maybe the scriptures aren’t the only thing we need to wrestle with. Maybe that wrestling needs to take place with everything we encounter: every person, every experience, every thought.

Of course, no one has time or energy for all that wrestling. So maybe wrestling isn’t the right metaphor. Perhaps there’s another way to draw insight and lessons from every situation.

I (and many others) have found such attentiveness to be a fruit of the contemplative life: contemplative not in its popular connotation of thoughtful, but to describe a life that is continually open to the divine presence in the here and now. When we live in a contemplative way, we remain open to each situation—and listen carefully for what it has to bring us.

Here’s an example. Like everyone, I often find myself in dull conversations, wishing I could excuse myself. In some of those situations, however—when I’m awake enough—I take a mental step back and just observe. Why has God put me here, now? What is there in this moment that speaks to me? What can I offer to this moment?

Not that there’s a clear answer in every case. But sometimes the required attentiveness is enough to refresh my soul all by itself. And quite often, that person—whom I considered so dull—has something to say that I desperately need to hear.

Joan Chittister, in her book Called to Question, sees a blessed interconnectedness among all such moments in our lives: “Isn’t everything that happens in life simply seeding something to come—and isn’t all of it God? But if that’s true, the question is, then, Are all our thoughts new seeds of life to be pursued?”

I think this type of contemplative approach comes through constancy in prayer and meditation. As we open ourselves to God, we become open to God all around us. That, in turn, makes us anticipate—eagerly—God’s presence and voice wherever, and with whomever, we find ourselves.