“Abide in me, and I in you.” I have to believe this is the key to the abundant life we’re all supposed to be living in Christ. It’s clearly an invitation, so it seems we’re not there yet (at least I’m not). Or are we? What does it mean to abide? I’ve grown accustomed to a cup of coffee in the morning. Do I pour an extra cup? Talk to the air? How do I go about abiding on an everyday basis?
The above verse clearly implies an interaction. But I have a confession to make: it’s all pretty vague how and when God is interacting with me. I’ve never had one of those Saul of Tarsus moments—the blinding light, the burning bush, the voice from heaven. All I got was this internal realization that it was true. I did speak in tongues once, but that was because everyone around me was doing it and I just started blabbering—I’m guessing God thought it was pretty funny. I have tried the Bible Verse channel—come to a dilemma, flip open the book, point a finger, and see what God wants to say to you (you learn to stay away from the Old Testament with that one!) My standard modus operandi is the Open Door/Close Door method: I think God wants to move to Dallas—put the house up for sale—no one buys the house—I guess He doesn’t want us to move there right now. But I’ve never heard a voice. (My friend Taylor assures me that some people do actually hear His voice—more power to them.) Mostly God speaks to me through the little things.
This abiding seems to be a tricky business. Can you abide without knowing it? There is a Zen koan that goes: If you want to be, act as if. If you want to be calm, act as if you are calm; if you want to be compassionate, act as if you are compassionate; if you want to be good with girls, act as if (that one actually worked a few times in my youth). I think there is some truth to it—you can shape the kind of person you want to be. But will it work for abiding? There’s the conundrum: you can’t fake abiding—it is not a one-man show.
I’ve stumbled upon a new theory: breathing is the doorway. Breathing is the most elemental action we take. And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living being. Doesn’t the doctor smack the newborn baby on the bottom to start the breathing (or is that an old wives’ tale)? And isn’t our last breath our final act? The alpha and the omega. The breath of life.
Yes, I’m aware of the universality of the practice of breathing as a spiritual exercise. Hindu—Buddhist—Islam—Zen—mediation—yoga—pop psychology: all extol the benefits of controlled breathing as a means of becoming centered. We would be foolish to exclude or dismiss the wisdom of other religions or cultures regarding the art of breathing. And the Bible has many references to breath and life and spirit. I recognize I’m a complete amateur when it comes to breathing. I’ve never thought about it—I just do it.
But as a doorway to abiding? Seems plausible—so I’m incorporating it into my life. For example: like all couples, Karen and I will have our testy moments—I’ll do or say something that annoys her, or vice versa. The other will respond in kind…and again…and (by grace) I realize the next thing I say will take this right over the edge…and so I breathe. I breathed for almost four miles on the way to church last Sunday, and it was an excellent service. Or I’m standing over an important putt…one I really want to make…so I breathe. (No, it doesn’t always go in—I told you I’m a novice at this.) Or when I can’t go to sleep and want to…I breathe. One of my favorites is when I just wake up in the morning…I breathe. And I say good morning to Him…and am glad for a new day, all snuggly there in my bed.
That is the only distinction I would make between me and all the breathing artists I mentioned above (or maybe there is no distinction). It’s an interaction—breathing in is receiving life from Him and breathing out is responding to Him (and that wonderful pause in between!)
I need to add my characteristic disclaimer: my ultimate truth is that I cannot abide by trying. I can’t get there through my own effort—He must bring me. The bridge we cross is called Faith—if our breathing was left to us, we’d choke. A Christian koan: Let go and let God. But breathe.
I just re-read this post after our conversation in St Louis and my recent diagnosis of asthma. Turns out, I am a big fan of breathing! And abiding. Also, I just noticed that this blog was posted one year from the date of my mom’s death. This event literally took my breath away. But, I can now breathe fully. Thanks.
Slowing down to take a breath is always a good! Sometimes concentrating on deep breathing keeps me from over loading my brain with all the tasks that I feel I need to do or issues I can’t seem to “fix”. It is something to think on — God breathing life into man. What a simple yet wondrous gift. A simple breath, and then there is life.
The dude abides, the stranger does not… :) As for breathing, yes. Sometimes, even in depression, you are reduced to one moment at a time, on breath. You come to one cadence of in, out, repeat. There is a wisdom in reducing your life to the simplest possible terms in order to find what’s really important and what’s not. There is nothing new age about this at all. It’s been around for far longer than that.
I didn’t learn this until I learned how to run. Seems simple. How hard can running be? When you’re young, you do it all the time. Running, like breathing, is one of those things you don’t have to explain, you just DO it. The tao of Nike made into the shared experience of the masses.
Later, when running is no longer the practical option (and doesn’t getting old just suck??), I still hike. Going into Muir’s and Adam’s range of light, I am left without the ability to doubt in the existence of God. But getting into that high country? Oh, that takes a LOT of breathing!