A Spirited Run

I’m not a runner. Well, technically I trained for a 5K and completed it with only a few walk breaks but I think there’s a reason you don’t see 3.1 car stickers. Anyway, because I’m not a runner I’ve never experienced the delightful-sounding “runner’s high.” That moment when you transcend sidesplitting, shin-aching drudgery to a Zen-like oneness with your path.

I have however known the enjoyment of being so engrossed in an enriching activity that it felt like I was “in the zone.” Things were just flowing, my body was an extension of my mind and they were in perfect harmony. Man, that’s an awesome sensation.

There’s also the uniquely satisfying feeling of epiphany. That aha moment when an insight strikes. Two previously uncorrelated ideas come together in a magnificent pairing that just makes sense. Once you’ve thought the thought, you can never un-think it.

What I find interesting about all of these situations is that they often follow what neuroscientists and human behaviorists would describe as a struggle-struggle-exasperation-burst sequence. When we quit trying to control the outcome and instead give in, that’s when the subconscious magic happens.

You’re running, you’re running, you’re hating life, you’re running, you’re running, and out of nowhere all is well in the world.

You’re encountering resistance to your project, you’re trying to find new alternatives, you get ready to start a new task and suddenly you find you’re knocking the project out of the park.

You can’t figure out the solution, you pull an all-nighter just turning the problem over and over in your mind, you finally opt for a shower and boom, the answer stares you in the face.

While all of this is fascinating (IMHO) you may be wondering what it has to do with spirituality. Indulge me a few minutes more.

It was Friday. Since I give up meat every day (though technically I’m vegetarian by choice, not as an act of devotion) I had decided that this Lent I would give up dairy and eggs on Friday as a special sacrifice; I’d be a Lenten Vegan.

While I wasn’t fasting per se, eating food without cheese is super boring so my lunch had been pretty basic. Then it was time for daily Mass at 5:30 and the act of kneeling plus fewer (and blander) than usual calories paired with a high-pitched hum in the back of church left me feeling tired. Exhausted, really.

I offered up my fatigue and acknowledged that I had enjoyed more food, more sleep and less stress than many millions of other people in the world that day. I kept on “churching,” and suddenly the hum became an energetic vibration resonating within my very being. The feeling of exhaustion became surrender and I released that pesky trait of trying to keep the whole world in order all on my own.

My hunger and tiredness became an invitation to experience the Mass differently. In that moment the scripture readings took on a different tenor, the pleasant smiles of others in the pew took on greater warmth. My environment was changed because I was changed. I knew that I was unequivocally at the right place at the right time. Or more truly, at His place at His time.

It wasn’t a complete transformation. Let’s be honest, about 35 seconds after this blissful moment my stomach growled, my back ached and I pulled my coat around my shoulders to fight off the chilliness of a sparsely attended church.

But I could still savor that moment when I let go, and let God. It was the taste of a spiritual runner’s high. (And for the record, it was way better than cheese.)

Where have all the Prophets gone?

Late-90s singer Paula Cole pondered about the loss of rugged cowboys. My question is less relationship-related and focused instead on the mouthpieces of God. Those great, enlightened sages like Isaiah and Ezekiel. Judging purely by the antiquity of those names I'm led to ask, Where my prophets at?

Spoiler alert: The answer is under your nose. Literally below it by about an inch.

Most tales of the prophets may be just that; tales. Exaggerated fish stories. I don’t say that to diminish the importance of prophets nor their message. My point is simply that prophets, like Jesus, were humans. Dudes and dudettes placed on this very Earth. 

What was unique about prophets was their ability to share the revelations born of their relationship with God. We’ve heard that God has spoken through the prophets (heck it’s in the Nicene Creed) and I believe that. But should we assume that prophets were extra-holy? Extra-human? Free from error?

Surely there are examples of prophets contradicting one another. So, what? Does that mean God is a flip-flopping hypocrite? Or does it mean that just like recording a song and playing it back over MP3 versus LP versus Spotify, the replay quality degrades. It’s imperfect. When God speaks through humans it’s not God “live” – it’s God “on-tape.” 

So how do you get access to a live recording? PRAY!

Each one of us can call upon that ultimate holy musician and listen quietly for the sometimes imperceptible (though sometimes booming and clanging) voice of God. And then we go out and tell our story. We talk about our relationship with God and the promises it reveals. We become prophets.

Now I’m sure scholars would argue (probably accurately) that I’m using the word “prophet” too loosely. And maybe I’m not even using it correctly at all. Though a quick Google search educates me:

Maybe I’m not so far off, or maybe the more proper word is “evangelist” or who knows. Mea culpa. If my words fail it’s because they’re human words. If my meaning sticks, it’s because it’s God’s message. 

I guess in summary, being a prophet doesn't necessarily mean a life lived on the corner of main streets with a cardboard sign. It may not mean leaving your career and family behind. Being a prophet means following the call God sets out uniquely for you. For me, it was publishing this post. For another prophet, it might mean sharing a smile with somebody discouraged or taking an extra moment to show kindness to a stranger. 

If you are inspired to proclaim God's will in any shape or form, then according to Google and my rationale, YOU are a prophet. May the Lord help each of us to earn that title daily.