Spiritual Formation Archives

Spiritual formation is a lifelong journey of drawing closer to the True Self and the Divine, with spiritual practices offering both scaffolding and a firm foundation for the search. Find posts on spiritual formation below, explore specific spiritual practices on the resources page, and sign up here to receive updates on new posts directly in your inbox.

Practice: Welcoming Your Emotions (+ a meditation inspired by Rumi)

I first discovered the wonderful world of the Sufi mystic, Rumi, almost five years ago through his poem, “The Guest House.”

It was the beginning of a season of self-discovery as well as an introduction to self-care for me, and Rumi’s declaration was both radical and freeing. I wanted his words to be a daily invitation, and so I commissioned a friend to write out and illustrate the poem so I could frame it.

The framed poem and illustration now hangs above the corner chair in which I practice centering prayer (almost) every morning, and I secretly hope that as I sit there in silence it beams its wisdom on me from above since I’ll forever be a novice at welcoming all the parts of myself, learning anew each and every day.

Here’s the beloved poem, “The Guest House,” as translated by Coleman Barks:

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

This evening my “Pilgrim Principles” class at St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church will meet for the first time and we’ll be exploring the first pilgrim principle: “A pilgrim looks for the Sacred in the Quotidian.”

The pilgrim knows that even the most ordinary aspects of our days can serve as windows to the Divine. One everyday aspect that is often overlooked, and yet can consistently offer insight into our soul and the work of God within our lives, is our everyday emotions. Inspired by Rumi’s poem, this evening we’ll be participating in a meditation that encourages us to welcome the emotions that greet us each day, and I want to share it with you here so you can journey with us from afar.

MEDITATION

Find a comfortable spot free of distraction and have your journal close by. Settle in with a few moments of silence and steady breathing and then direct your mind to the emotions that have decided to greet you today. Some might be obvious, such as worry that already has your mind racing or relief brought about by a slow day ahead. Other emotions might be lurking in the background, not as easily translatable but still present, such as shame or sadness.

Take a few moments to explore these emotions, not going too deeply, just simply noticing their presence. As you notice them, acknowledge and welcome them, no matter how uncomfortable or unsettling they might be.

close your eyes and explore your emotions for a few minutes, welcoming them

Now go a bit deeper with the emotions present, especially the ones that are surprising or strange, and begin to wonder what they might be trying to tell you. Do this internally first, making space for the Sacred Guide to give you insight rather than allowing your analytical brain to take over.

close your eyes again and spend a few minutes wondering about what your emotions might be trying to say

Close your meditation with a breath of gratitude for your emotions and what they communicate to you, and then write down any new discoveries as a reminder of what your feelings can convey. As you go about your day, carry the purpose of this meditation with you in your heart. Become aware of your emotions as they arise, welcoming them and finding Sacred meaning within. You might be surprised at the wisdom found in things so seemingly ordinary.

(Meditation excerpted from Pilgrim Principles: Journeying with Intention in Everyday Life.)

GO FURTHER…

How can you begin to welcome your emotions as they come to you each day rather than rejecting them or pushing them away? Share your response to the question or the post in the comments.

The Spirituality of Daily Walks: Finding God in the Enchanted Forest

My husband and I bought our first home this past summer.

The entire process was far more fast-paced than my years of watching HGTV’s House Hunters made it out to be. Though in the end we were only actively looking at houses for just over a month, the anxiety that filled of the season made it seem like a lifetime.

Perhaps that’s why what ultimately sold me on the house that is now our home wasn’t simply the house itself, but what was tucked just around the corner. Just a five minute walk away, off of the busy street where we live and down a quiet road that warns drivers of a dead end lies a veiled entry to an enchanted forest.

You might think I’m being overzealous in my use of adjectives, but I find no other way to describe it. To enchant is to hypnotize, to mesmerize, to put under a spell, and each time I cross the threshold into this world set apart, I am transported—not just physically, but spiritually as well.

I started taking daily walks to the forest in mid-September, once we were all settled in and falling back into a daily routine. I was doing a lot of writing at the time and my husband and I were also starting a home renovation project, which meant my mind was always full and often overwhelmed. It didn’t make sense to pause in the middle of my day after a long lunch break and amble through the forest. It seemed the furthest thing from productive to my list-making, task-mastering mind. And yet, I couldn’t help myself.

I’m a Type One on the Enneagram after all—the perfectionist/reformer—and I’ve struggled with a busy mind my entire life. Richard Rohr, also a One, described it best in his book, The Enneagram: A Christian Perspective, when he said those who are not Ones could never fathom the amount of movement that occurs inside a One’s mind. Add on a few major projects that involve a significant amount of uncertainty and my mind becomes so active I have trouble sleeping at night. This constant barrage of anxiety leaves me yearning for stillness, begging for enchantment. And so I go to the forest in hopes of falling under its spell, if only for a moment. And, might I add, it works every time.

When I enter the forest, my senses are overcome and all of the worries that filled my mind for the time being no longer hold weight. I pause on the path upon entry—desiring, yet unable, to take it all in. I feel the cool air on my cheeks as the sound of birds chirping announces my arrival and take a deep breath in, allowing the expanse of my surroundings to flood my being.

My first few steps slowly turn into a saunter that will continue for the rest of my visit. I have walked this path so frequently this autumn that I feel like I’ve seen every leaf fall, and with them I myself find the courage to release all that is unnecessary, instead gathering nourishment for the season ahead like the forest animals that cross my path.
Not much has changed in my life since I began these walks in mid-September. Home renovations and writing projects still weigh on me at both ends, and that is simply what this season in life holds. But without this season, I’m not sure I would have found the forest to be such a refuge and teacher, and for that I am grateful. In the midst of all that is unknown, these walks have become spiritual practice, every step a prayer. Each day they call me to return and remember—to return to my true self and remember that my greatest desire is connection with the Divine—and with each step I’m enchanted once more.

GO FURTHER…

Where have you found refuge in seasons of transition? How has nature taught you about God? What spiritual practices call you to return and remember?

Do You Have a Meaningful Morning Ritual?

I have an exciting announcement to share, and it involves something I’m creating just for you!

This October, I’ll be linking up with thousands of bloggers across the web as part of The Nester’s annual 31 Days writing challenge. My topic: Morning Rituals.

Each day in the month of October, we’ll journey together as a community as we seek to cultivate more meaningful mornings through creating a personal Morning Ritual. We’ll explore the four elements of a meaningful morning—intention, space, time, and practice—and by the end of the month, you’ll have a Morning Ritual catered specifically to your desires and needs that is sure to leave you feeling centered, inspired, and closer to your True Self and the Divine.

What better way to start each day?

The series begins Wednesday, October 1. If you long to make your mornings more meaningful or simply want to breathe new life into your current Morning Ritual, be sure to subscribe so you don’t miss a post!

GO FURTHER…

Do you already have a meaningful Morning Ritual? Last week I let subscribers in on the secret and invited them to share their own Morning Rituals with the community of seekers at A Sacred Journey. If you’d like to share about your meaningful morning, leave a comment or send me an email explaining your Morning Ritual in 100 words or less and you might be featured in an upcoming post!

Cease and Feast: Why You Should Practice Sabbath

This post originally appeared last year around Labor Day in the US (which happens to be today), but I thought I’d share it again as a reminder to take some time to cease and feast. If you have the day off today, I hope there’s plenty of room for rest and delight! -Lacy

When I was in graduate school, I took a class all about Sabbath.

One of the assignments was to practice sabbath in three ways: one with a friend, another with someone who is a bit foreign to the practice, and one in solitude.

My Sabbath with a friend was spent with my dear friend Katie. During that day we shared some of the best things we had in common—we watched David Whyte speak at the Search for Meaning Festival, perused bookstores to our heart’s content, ate lunch out, took a walk around the nearby lake, and sipped hot tea as we talked about life. Though we had lived together previously, this was the first day we had spent entirely together simply enjoying ourselves, and it opened us up to deeper relationship.

As for the Sabbath with someone foreign to the practice, I instantly knew my ideal companion (or victim, depending on just how hard it would be). My dad knows how to be productive more than anyone I know. Consequently this means that he rests less than anyone I know. Even his sleeping is done in a productive manner, so I don’t count it.

I knew a day without productivity for my dad was going to be a difficult one, so I brought my husband in for personal support. Ironically, though, I realized that ensuring that my dad had a Sabbath experience meant that I was not having one at all. And so, I too had to let go of my addiction to productivity, which in this case was a vision of a productive Sabbath experience for my dad. I know—an oxymoron, right? (The productive/Sabbath part, not the Sabbath/dad part, but also maybe just a bit.)

As it turns out, I ended up doing a lot of things with my dad that day that I hadn’t done in a long time, and even some things that we had never done at all. There were a few struggles on both ends, certainly, but we made it through. When we let him off the hook early around 5pm, I left feeling that it was a good and surprising experience. (No word yet on whether he’s attempted a Sabbath again.)

The final part of the assignment—my Sabbath in solitude—turned out to be one of my favorite days in Seattle (quite akin to my envisioned ideal scenario described a few weeks ago here—it can be recreated after all!). It was New Year’s Eve, and I began the morning traipsing through my favorite place in Seattle, Pike Place Market, and then lingered over coffee and a chocolate croissant at Le Pichet for nearly two hours as I journaled, reflecting over and celebrating the year gone by.

I then stopped into the Seattle Art Museum, sampled some salted caramels at Fran’s across the street (the absolute best), grabbed a slice of pizza at the Italian delicatessen, and took it home where I spent the afternoon reading magazines, dreaming about an upcoming trip abroad, and drinking tea. It was truly heavenly.

But I never would have had that experience without the boundaries of Sabbath.

Outside of the confines of Sabbath productivity reigns, distractions beckon, and there is always at least one more thing I could get done. These are things to work on in their own right (perhaps a better word than “work” would be more appropriate here), but Sabbath is an opportunity to intentionally pause for a while, say “all is good,” and to celebrate that goodness in the way our hearts know best.

Sabbath, of course, finds its roots in the seventh day of creation. It’s on the seventh day, we’re told, that God rested after all the work of creating was done. But in his book Sabbath, Dan Allender emphasizes that God did not need rest on the seventh day; rather, God spent the time delighting in the newly created world.

Kim Thomas, who wrote Even God Rested, describes the Divine’s action on the seventh day—and thus the model for Sabbath as well—as ceasing and feasting.

I love that.

Sabbath is a practice to pause and remember what was intended and is written on our hearts, what we search for as pilgrims, and what is to come when our essential selves are set free and we are fully united with God. It is a time to cease our everyday tasks and productivity—to cease even our sorrow or worrying—and to feast on love, on life, and on the goodness of the Divine. It is a conscious creation of a time and space that is Sacred.

God emphasizes this by telling the Israelites to “keep it holy” when practicing Sabbath. To be “holy” is, of course, to be “set apart.” Dan continues in Sabbath to say this about the holy:

“The holy comes in a moment when we are captured by beauty,
and a dance of delight swirls us beyond the moment to taste
the expanse of eternity in, around, and before us.”

This is what practicing Sabbath is all about—ceasing from our everyday and being “captured by beauty.” It’s about feasting on our delights, our relationships, our blessings, and what is good. And when we do this we are able to “taste the expanse of eternity,” we’re able to touch a bit of heaven, and we’re able to experience Sacred Encounter.

Today is Labor Day in the United States, a federal holiday that takes place each year on the first Monday of September. Labor Day was originally established over one hundred years ago to honor workers, giving them a day off from their labor and a chance to celebrate and be celebrated (thanks Wikipedia). These days it is considered a sign of the end of summer, offering a three day weekend when many families head to the lake or the beach one last time. Those staying at home might consider it as one more day to get some things done.

However, perhaps there is no better day to begin practicing Sabbath than on Labor Day—a gift of sorts in the calendar year. It’s a day off work with no Sunday services to attend or Saturday errands to run—a day that was originally created for us pause from work and to celebrate.

“Sabbath is a practice to pause and remember what was intended
and is written on our hearts, what we search for as pilgrims,
and what is to come when our essential selves
are set free and we are fully united with God.”

I know I’ll be ceasing and feasting. What about you?

GO FURTHER…

Have you ever taken a day of Sabbath? What did you cease from and feast on? What was difficult about it, and what brought great relief? Leave your response to the questions or the post in the comments. (Or share your Labor day plans!)

Everyday Calls to Prayer: 5 Surprising Invitations to Encounter God, Hidden in Your Daily Life

I have the best intentions of spending time in silence and solitude with God each day.

In my mind, I wake up with the sun each morning, fully refreshed, and slip out of bed to pour myself a cup of coffee. I sip it slowly in gratitude as I sit on my patio, savoring the moment as the birds chirp their chorus and the wind gently rustles through the leaves of the trees that form the canopy above me.

Certain that I have taken it all in, I open my reading, starting the day inspired. Sometimes it’s scripture or a book about spiritual practices. At other times it’s simply a text that explores a topic that I’m passionate about. Every time, though, it is something that brings me closer to God.

After a chapter or two, I set my reading aside and pick up my journal, putting onto paper what was stirring in my heart. Then, I finish my time in prayer. Sometimes I express my desires in words, as I learned as a young child. At other times, I simply sit in the presence of God, knowing that the silence is enough.

This summer, this daily practice has happened around… a few times. I try to maintain elements of this practice on a regular basis, but the surprises of everyday life often leave it fragmented, at best.

Waking up with the sun is the first to go. Sometimes I drink my coffee intermittently in the bathroom as I fix my hair instead of drinking it while peacefully surrounded by my garden. And the reading, journaling, and time spent in prayer? They’re quickly replaced by an early departure for a long day working or running errands. I don’t have any children yet, but I imagine the interruptions are just as often and far less predictable.

As much as we might love routine, a morning of uninterrupted bliss where we can set time aside for our relationship with God can be hard to come by. As for afternoons and evenings? Afternoons are usually filled with the next “to-do,” and by the time evening comes, weariness often takes over. With one day like this after another, it can seem nearly impossible to find the solitary time with God that you crave.

What if I told you, then, that there are ways to encounter God that are hidden in your everyday life, even within the very tasks that fill your days?

In monastic communities, monks and nuns commonly adhere to a practice called the “Liturgy of the Hours.” For centuries, members of these communities have gathered multiple times each day, pausing when the bells toll and turning toward God in a spirit of prayer.

Though the peace of a monastery might seem the furthest thing from your busy schedule, translating this practice to your everyday life can offer you invitations to encounter God throughout the day in places you might never expect.

Here are five seemingly-stressful everyday circumstances that can instead be turned into times of prayer:

1. Laundry day?

As you sort the dirty clothes from the previous week, call to mind your recent places of struggle and desolation. After they are clean and you begin to put them away, reflect on the week ahead, praying that you’ll experience God’s presence and grow more fully into your True Self.

2. Stuck in traffic on your daily commute?

Turn off the radio and practice quieting your mind and simply sitting in God’s presence.

3. Time to cook dinner?

Join the rhythm of your chopping or stirring with the silent repetition of a verse or a prayer of old, such as “Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10) or the Lord’s Prayer. (Read my own reflections on this here.)

4. Dishes piled up in the sink?

As you wash the dishes, bring to God the places where you need forgiveness and desire to be washed clean, allowing the suds and warm water to bring you (and your kitchen sink) new life.

5. Have so much on your mind that you can’t go to sleep?

Instead of counting sheep, name the things you are grateful for as you drift off into a (much more) peaceful slumber.

GO FURTHER…

What seemingly-stressful everyday circumstance in your life can you turn into a time of prayer? Leave your response to the question or the post in the comments.

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Practice: Welcoming Your Emotions (+ a meditation inspired by Rumi)