“Above all else, trust in the slow work of God...”
—an old Ignatian Prayer
I’m about as instant-gratification oriented as they come. I love a quick project, a fresh coat of paint, a new thing. The last month has certainly spun all that on its head and shaken it all down to its core as we have all been instructed to, ‘stay home and buy only what you need. Do your part in flattening the curve.’ In many regards, these days are forcing my yearnings for deeper spiritual rhythms into practice but they aren’t quick. I wonder if quick fixes are what Jesus referred to as watered down paint slapped over plaster that houses nothing more than dead bones—it’s just a whitewashed tomb. Spiritual formation is supposed to be awkward, clunky, grossly imperfect, ‘one thing at a time’, and slow. Isolation, quarantine, and social distancing hasn’t sped up the ease and pace in which we spiritually better ourselves. That’s because it is still about the slow work of God—even, especially, gratefully, and frustratingly, during a pandemic.
I had a close call and brush up against danger a few days ago. I’m not ready to share quite yet but I’m sure I will soon enough. It is acutely jarring to have your eyelids forced open by actions gone horribly wrong. I’m wide awake but I’m not quite not sure I was sleeping to begin with, just right now I feel more awake to certain things in a different way than just a few days ago. This all sounds very cryptic and I’m not meaning to be, I’m just still processing it all. Know that I am well in body, and doing the work to be well in spirit. Gratitude abounds, even in chaos and heartache.