How Do You Want to Know God?

It’s been just over a week since I returned from my trip to Iceland and England.

And though it wasn’t a pilgrimage, per se, I brought along a few tools to help make the journey an intentional one, providing opportunities along the way for me to get to know both myself and God more deeply while on foreign soil. One of these tools is the Compass Cues Reflection Deck, available in the Journey Shop.

The Compass Cues Reflection Deck contains 31 Compass Cues to help you align with your True Self, God, and the movement of the Divine on your pilgrimage of faith. Meant to be chosen at random and revisited again and again as each season of your life unfolds, these questions can be used for prayer, journaling, conversation, and more as a compass for the journey and a guidebook for the soul.

Here’s one of the questions I drew on a cool, cloudy morning tucked away in a quiet B&B garden in Winchester: “How do you want to know God?” Even though I made the cards and came up with the questions, it was a surprising question at the time, and even more surprising was the response that followed. I’ve shared my journal entry from the morning below.

Friday, September 29, 2017

How do I want to know God?

Perhaps my answer is in this garden—in the stillness, in the quiet, in the tranquility. Maybe that’s what I long to experience, and not just in passing. I want it to be an undercurrent of my daily life—a deep and abundant well from which I draw—and I believe that comes from union with God, union with the Sacred, union with Presence. Which is to say communion, too.

I want to be not alone, but with; not below, but beside; not separate, but in sync (which isn’t too far off from synchronicity, is it?). I want to know God intimately, mystically, contemplatively. I want to know the Divine loudly and softly in grand signs and tiny whispers. And I want to be alert enough to not miss them both.

I want to know and trust the Divine so deeply that I do not cling to the Sacred in desperation but rather bind myself to the Sacred in rooted surrender. And I want to be there—which is to say, here—all the days of my life.