Examen

I feel that the goal of the Examen prayer practice is noble.

I began with the traditional Ignatian Examen. This was difficult for me, in that the language of the prayer was very pointed and specific. The words that were the most painful to put into practice were, "Ask that all within you that is not in line with God's purpose for your life be released." There are things in my life that I desire so much that I actually consider stepping away from the "center of God's will" in order to pursue them. So to be convicted by the Holy Spirit of such dangerous desires and to be instructed to "release" them feels rather devastating.

Doesn't God care about what I want? I've been as faithful as I know how for quite a while. . .why can't I be selfish for a change? When will I finally receive "the desires of my heart?"

These are perhaps insecure questions, but they are what popped up at this point during the prayer.

God has, indeed, been very active in my life. He has been faithful to bestow grace upon my work-life and relationships. He has called me to do some very exhausting things, but has given me the strength to persevere. He has repaid my faithfulness with mercy and wisdom. So why does this heart of mine go astray? Hasn't it learned by now the futility of such practices?

Though I cannot in good conscience confess to have failed in reflecting God's love and mercy (as nothing comes to mind), I do confess that I often believe in my heart that God's love is not enough to satisfy me. I pray so hard and so often that His grace will be sufficient and that I'll be granted His shalom and contentment, only to find my heart wandering further away from that first moment when it began to love Him holistically.

I am walking through a season where I am providing ministerial leadership and council to a body of believers who are my contemporaries. It seems like the more I try to point people to Jesus and to what God desires for their lives, the more they take the opposite actions. I wonder if it even maters anymore what I say to them. Perhaps it would be better for me to instruct people to engage in premarital sex and to partake in substance abuse; maybe then they'll do the opposite and turn to Jesus Christ as their Lord and source of life.

And these are the thoughts that are swirling through this swiss cheese mind of mine as I try to recall any instance in which I need to make amends. But to no avail. What am I doing wrong?

Finally, as I recite the Lord's Prayer, I am reminded of how unselfishly Jesus instructs us to pray. The primary focus of the prayer is that "[God's] kingdom come, [God's] will be done." It's not about me and what I want; it's all about Him. And it seems that as I turn to God and pursue His desires for this planet, He then is faithful to provide for our immediate needs, no more, no less. In what other model can this be successful--where we are called to such unfathomable co-dependence and reciprocity--but our relationship with God?

So at the end of this exercise, I find that my love for God remains unchanged. My awareness of His presence and goodness in my life has been significantly strengthened. My heart feels slightly less inclined to wander. My purpose remains unchanged. But the delight I feel for Jesus Christ has intensified in a way that I cannot calculate nor bear to express; I find myself in tears at the intimacy that overwhelms me. This was certainly not what I expected from this exercise. It is, in fact, diametrically opposed to my initial speculations.

The goal of Ignatian Examen is to “find God in all things.” It seems that God Himself has found me.