Offering 7 I End of Summer

learning to stand outside of the garden

Aug 21, 2024

Christ in Gethsemane by Pavol Olsavsky III

All the way to heaven is heaven because he said, “I am the Way”. —Saint Catherine of Siena

In the last lingering days of springtime, when the chill of the air isn’t quite so sharp and the warmth of the sun on bare arms is hope and healing, I was inspired to create a prayer garden in our backyard. Vision for creating such a sacred place was drawn from a powerful encounter I had with the living Spirit of God in a prayer garden during a spiritual retreat at a Benedictine Sisters Monastery a couple of months prior.

My husband tilled up a spacious place that stretched out along the perimeter of the black wrought-iron style fence at the back of our yard where our cherry tree hangs slightly over the left side, boasting beautiful white buds when flowering and the brightest red cherries during harvest at the end of the May.

I covered the ground with weed mat, filled in the space with brown mulch, and lined the front of the garden with field stone gathered from my aunt and uncle’s land. We added a turquoise wrought-iron table and chairs just outside of the garden bed and a beautiful black garden arch bench with gothic style sides, honoring the monastic style vison I had for the garden. I went to the greenhouse and picked out mostly perennial flowers, keeping and caring for them on our back porch, bringing them inside during those final nights of frost, and then finally planting them in the garden as April’s days turned into May.

And then I consecrated the garden to the Lord, asking him to meet me there.

As spring faded into the early days of summer, I decided to add a couple of rows of cut flower seedlings along the back of the garden bed—zinnias, cosmos, and blue cornflower. At that point on my journey of being a novice gardener, I had never planted seedlings. I prefer the instant gratification that plant babies from the nursery provide. As one of my journal entries from those days suggests, the act of planting seedlings was more of a spiritual discipline for me at that point than anything else:

May 2024—journal entry excerpt:
“I’ll be planting more seeds this year rather than buying all new from the nursery. I’m excited and also dreading the wait of the process—I want beautiful things now! I don’t want the work or fuss of patient cultivation. Help me, Lord—let me learn patience as You are patient with me as my Gardener. Teach me truths that only the flowers have the privilege of whispering. I’m listening!”

A couple of weeks later, I would find myself in the middle of an unexpected health crisis that would span the entire summer with little to no answers, a journey that is still ongoing. At the peak of my symptoms, I planned my funeral and had some pretty raw conversations with the Lord about life and death.

If you have the courage to pray bold prayers, don’t be surprised when the Lord answers in a bold way. This is not to say that God authors the trials of our lives, but rather that His sovereignty runs through the streams of our lives, and He often speaks boldly in times of sorrow.

A Space to Wrestle

The Creator of the Universe has a history of preparing a garden for His creatures and only Providence could have prepared the vision of a prayer a garden that was stirred up in my own heart and bring it to fruition through the obedience of my hands for such a time as this.

I thought I was creating a sacred space set apart for Him. Instead, I found that, all along, He was setting it apart for me.

As the days rolled on with constant uncertainty and unknowns, I spent hours in prayer, journaling and wrestling with God, confronting the reality of death—my fear of death—and weeping over the frailty and brokenness of my body—of the world I find myself in. I lamented my “unfinished-ness” as a creature, fearful that I would arrive on the shores of glory less than who I was created to be, or at least less than the standard of my idea of who I should be. I wrestled deeply with what it means to be perfected in love. 1 John 4:18 says,

“There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear, because fear involves punishment, and the one who fears is not perfected in love.”

June 20th—journal excerpt from the prayer garden:
“I am not ready to leave my earthly home and the ones that I love. I have not been perfected in love—I know because I am so fearful of death and there is no fear in those through whom love has been perfected. I know that being perfected in love is different than being perfect and I ask for the gift of life, for many more years, Lord, that I may receive the gift and legacy of one who walks, not perfectly, but perfected in love, in trust of You, the One who has sustained me from life’s first breath.”

My longing during those hours of wrestling was that I would somehow reach the place where perfect love could be found, as if it were a destination to strive after, a destination where I would finally no longer be afraid in death, perfected in my creature-hood—ready to arrive on the shores of glory.

As questions to my health remained unanswered and the coordinates to the land of perfect love remained lost, the seedlings in my prayer garden continued to grow up toward the sun with a confident splendor, whispering secrets that I could not yet hear. As the mysterious laws of love were sustaining their growth, so too was my growth being sustained by the laws of love in ways that I could not yet see.

Imagination and Invitation

About a month later, I met with my spiritual director1, carrying the weight of confusion, lament, and fear—my spirit unsettled within me as I entered into the sacred space she had prepared that day. She lit a candle as she always does, a tangible reminder that the Spirit of God was with us, orchestrating our time as we surrendered it into His hands. We remained silent for a time, eyes closed, listening with the ears of our heart. As I broke the silence and shared the state of fear that had a grip on me, she listened carefully—both to my words and to the movement of the Spirit of God—and gently invited me to dialogue with my soul in a different way by asking,

“Is it okay to be fearful?
Wasn’t Jesus fearful when he confronted death in Gethsemane?
Perhaps the Spirit is inviting you to go to the garden with Jesus.

We both remained silent for a time before she broke the silence and said,

…or maybe you’re not in the garden with Jesus,
maybe He’s inviting you to stand outside of the garden.”

The Spirit of God, like a gentle breeze, rested upon me and spoke into the fear that was crippling me and in an instant I realized in a powerful way that perfect love was not a destination to strive after or a box to check off on my spiritual journey, but a Presence to settle into.

While I was intent on making the journey to find the land of perfect love, Perfect Love Himself had already been journeying the coordinates of my heart to find me.

He was inviting me to stand outside of the garden.

An Important Note, Dear Readers…

Some of the contemplative language in this post may be new to some of you—and maybe even make you feel a little uncomfortable.

What on earth does she mean by “going to the garden with Jesus” and “standing outside of the garden”?

After the Protestant Reformation and the Enlightenment, contemplative prayer and other contemplative practices were largely lost, leaving behind a void that would quickly be filled with a staunchly dogmatic and intellectual pursuit of God. After all, “the utter vulnerability of silence did not allow us to “prove” anything and so was no longer attractive”2. Even the Catholic tradition of faith reserved these practices for the cloister after the Reformation.

Prior to the Reformation and the effects of the Enlightenment in the West, the Church had a beautiful heritage of contemplative practices that exemplified a more holistic and embodied approach to life with Christ. Christ cannot be contained within our mere intellect because we are embodied creatures. Christ came in the flesh and we must learn what it means for Christ to “live in our flesh” beyond the confines of intellect.

In recent decades there has been a renewal of the contemplative tradition, drawing in more Protestant expressions of the faith and serving as an ecumenical bridge for accessing a larger tapestry of ancient and orthodox Christian thought and practice.

I am beyond grateful to have crossed this bridge on my spiritual pilgrimage—

it has changed everything for me.

My spiritual director is trained in the Ignatian tradition—a contemplative spirituality based on the teachings and practices of Saint Ignatius. One of Ignatius’ hallmark contemplative practices was imaginative prayer, a method of prayer drawing on the faculties of our imagination as an avenue by which the Holy Spirit can communicate with us. There is no part of who we are, including our imagination, that is inaccessible to the Spirit of God. By entering into the narrative of scripture through meditation via the gift of our imagination, we open ourselves to the Holy Spirit’s transformation in a more embodied way.

Here is a basic look at how Ignatian prayer works:

Choose a passage of scripture to meditate on.
Close your eyes and invite the Holy Spirit to reveal truths to you.
Imagine being in the narrative of scripture. Notice what is happening as you imagine the scene, paying attention also to how you feel.
Rest in the presence of God.
Reflect.

So, when I say “going to the garden with Jesus” or “staying outside of the garden” I am purposing to pray with my imagination by way of entering into the story of Gethsemane, praying and listening with the eyes and ears of my heart.

Now let’s get back to that day with my spiritual director to see how this plays out practically.

To Stand Outside of The Garden

The parts of me that are most wounded, that need the most control, wouldn’t have always been content to stay outside of the garden. Those parts of me would have demanded answers from the Jesus in Gethsemane. Thankfully, as I’ve opened those parts of myself up to the transformation of the Spirit by continuing to enter into embodied practices of faith, I have grown in discernment and learned to recognize the invitations of the Spirit and not just the self-conjured egotistical invitations that feed a disfigured version of myself.

Learning the voice of the Shepard is a worthy journey to embark upon.

When the invitation was extended to stay outside of the garden, it resonated immediately, and I was able to discern by way of confirmation of the Spirit in a deep place that the invitation on that day was to stand outside of Gethsemane.

Before I entered into a time of imaginative prayer, images were already flooding my mind. Having been to Israel in 2023 and visiting one of the places they believe was Gethsemane, it was not hard to imagine myself in the narrative.

I saw myself outside of the garden by myself, looking in at the suffering Jesus.

What happened next is an example of how the Spirit, through prayer, can bring clarity and truth to the imagination and bypass preconceived images that may naturally come to mind (like the images that came to mind from Israel).

And while it’s typical to enter into imaginative prayer by way of the corresponding scripture, on this particular day, instead of entering into the story of Gethsemane, I was invited to hold onto the images of being outside of the garden while a different part of scripture was read. It was Isaiah 43:19-21:

“Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. The wild beasts will honor me, the jackals and the ostriches, for I give water in the wilderness rivers in the desert, to give drink to my chosen people, the people whom I formed for myself that they might declare my praise.”

As my eyes were closed, listening to the scripture, imagining myself outside of Gethsemane looking in at the suffering Jesus, suddenly I was no longer by myself. The peace of Christ washed over my entire being. Perfect Love, Jesus Himself, was at my side, cupping my chin and turning my head from the gaze of the garden, first reorienting my gaze to His and then pointing his hand up to the sky away from the garden, birds flying overhead, “behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?”, and a gentle whisper in my inner being,

“It’s not yet time to go to Gethsemane,
stay outside of the garden with me”.

The Jesus in Gethsemane will have secrets to share at my own hour of death, but right now I’m being invited to stand outside of the garden, to behold, to learn the language of the flowers in the land of the living, trusting that Perfect Love is already at work perfecting love in me and that the one who arrives on the shores of glory will be all she was created to be for no other reason than this—

she knew she was held safe in the arms of Perfect Love.

August 12th—journal entry from the prayer garden:
“Thank you for showing me that we are being perfected in love when we are practiced in Presence. I believe that you will reveal the secrets of Gethsemane at the hour of my death and not a moment before. I am invited not to strive, but to surrender to your Presence, to gaze into your face, to trust the One who lifts my chin, who is teaching me it’s okay to stay outside of the garden.
You are water in the wilderness of many unknowns. You drank the cup of suffering so that we might find the rivers of grace and the promise of presence in the desert of our hearts.”

Fear in death is not the same thing as fear in love.

I am grateful to my friend Jesus for showing me the difference.

Quick note: Though there are still unknowns on the timeline of restored health, I have received promising results in the past couple of weeks that point to a drastically less concerning diagnosis. Please keep me in prayer as I move forward on the journey!

Share Cadence & Canticle

Thank you for reading Cadence & Canticle—I’m so glad you stopped by! May you leave this space blessed and heartened as you return to the soil and stewardship of your life. I’d love for you to join this community of fellow pilgrim-souls!

For further engagement with this season’s offering, head to the Trysting Place right below!

WELCOME TO THE TRYSTING PLACE—

a contemplative space at the end of each offering for you to quiet your soul and slow down in the presence of your Creator. Settle in with all three sections or choose just one, moving through them at a pace that is right for you. This is designed to be a spacious place for your soul—a sacred rhythm for your life.

CADENCE & CURIOSITY—

an invitation to quietly contemplate and become curious about what is stirring in the depths of your heart.

How is the Spirit of God working in this season of your life? Do you tend to approach God merely from an intellectual standpoint? Why do you think this is?

What do you think it means to be perfected in love? How is God perfecting you in love? Perhaps there is an invitation here to explore more embodied ways of being with Jesus. Take the time to reflect on what your relationship with Jesus looks like—does it live in your head? Or do you know, deep in your bones, what the presence of Jesus feels like?

Dear reader, Jesus is our friend (John 15:15). Friends don’t just read about each other; they experience mutual delight and safety in the presence of one another.

I have not always known Jesus as friend. He lived in my head as Savior (without knowing what it meant to truly be saved) for a very long time and I kept him out of reach from the places of deepest wounding and sorrow, not knowing (or trusting) his love or safety. I wrestled for a very long time to trust his love and safety, but once I opened those deepest places to his transformational touch and care, my entire life changed. I still wrestle through trials, but I do not wrestle alone.

We cannot fully know the love of Jesus until the love of Jesus fully knows us. What places do you need to expose to the love of Christ? Wrestle as you go, dear reader. Even if you lack trust in his love and safety, like I did, keep wrestling. There is a faithful friend who is patient to be found, eager to meet your gaze.

CADENCE & CONVERSATION—

an invitation to reflect on and share what the Lord is revealing to you in this season. Use this as a personal and private extension of reflection or use it to share your heart with other readers in this community of fellow pilgrim-souls. I’d love to hear from you in the comments!

Are you familiar with the practice of Ignatian prayer? I’d love to know! Is the invitation to enter into the narrative of scripture by way of imagination an exciting invitation or something that makes you uncomfortable? Explore what comes up for you when thinking about this spiritual practice. Maybe you feel led to try imaginative prayer. Like other methods of prayer, imaginative prayer takes practice and consistency to discern the voice of the Shepard. It is a worthy journey to embark upon.

CADENCE & CUE—

The final stop in each offering—a cue to still your soul before the things that are good, true, and beautiful as you ponder how you might carry them with you into your season!

Enjoy an excerpt from Dorothy Frances Gurney’s poem, God’s Garden, a favorite of mine:

“The kiss of the sun for pardon,

the song of the birds for mirth,

one is nearer God’s heart in a garden

than anywhere else on earth.

For he broke it for us in a garden

under the olive trees

where the angel of strength was the warden

and the soul of the world found ease”

More on spiritual direction here: A Beginner's Guide to Spiritual Direction : Celia A. Miller (celiaamiller.com)

The Center for Contemplation