Beyond Change

BY GINNY SCHAEFFER

Change, along with death and taxes, is one of the constants in our lives—just ask Heraclitus, an ancient Greek philosopher, and Benjamin Franklin. We see change in nature as the seasons turn and the weather fluctuates. We experience it in our own lives. Over my lifetime my hair has gone from platinum blonde to dark brown to mostly grey. We change our clothes, change our minds, and change with the wind. We welcome it, embrace it, and dig our heels in and fight tooth-and-nail against it.

Change is also an essential dynamic of a healthy spirituality, so much so that Jesus’ first message as he came out of the wilderness was all about change.

In Matthew and Mark’s gospels, Jesus’ first words go something like this: Stop watching! What you have been waiting and looking for is right here, right now— the ultimate reality of God. What you have to do is repent and trust this good news like your life depends on it.

The word repent can conjure up images of someone weeping, wailing and vowing to never sin again, or a thin, bearded man carrying a sign announcing, “Repent! The end is near!” Now, here’s the kicker: if we go to the original Greek, in which the gospels were written, the word from which we get repent is metanoia, and it has little to nothing to do with sin. It has much more to do with moving beyond the mind—in which we are formed through many different influences—into the large mind of the LOVER of us all. Eventually, we read St. Paul referring to this as the “mind of Christ.”

The change that Jesus invites us all to is so significant that we use another word to describe it: transformation. For good or ill, we are all formed by our families, culture, institutions and society. We are taught what is right and wrong; what to believe about ourselves, others, the world and God; and how to act, how to fit in. Jesus’ invitation is to move beyond what has formed us in the past to a bigger, broader, more inclusive way of perceiving reality, of living and loving.

As we are transformed, we come to realize that this mind is nothing like our small, dual (either/or), egoic minds, but is expansive, nondual (both/and), flowing from the cosmic heart of the One who is the Ground of our being. We find ourselves changing organically, rather than forcibly and artificially (which is usually not sustainable). We find ourselves seeing the world and those who live in it. We begin to see them, and even ourselves, as loveable, maybe even beautiful. We let go of judgment and condemnation and move to understanding and acceptance. We begin to notice, with awe and wonder, glimpses of God all around us in the kindness of a stranger, the playfulness of children, the unconditional love of a dog, the eruption of crocuses through the winter ground, the tenderness of a loved one.

Because we live in a DIY, self-help kind of world, the temptation is to assume that this transformation is something we can do on our own. Like me, you may ask, “How do I make this happen? What’s the magic formula? Tell me what book to read!”

We cannot make this happen—this deep, life-altering change, this transformation of heart and mind. Again, if you are like me, you may not even be able to change that one behavior that has been a bur under your saddle for way too long.

The good news is that this transformation can take place when we cooperate with the One in whose image and likeness we are created. We say “Yes!” to love, unconditional, freely given love. Remember the father in the story of the wayward son who runs to greet him and embraces him before the son can give his well-practiced spiel asking for forgiveness? That’s the kind of love God offers us. We say “Yes!” to the LOVER of us all who does not judge, condemn or see us as unworthy, but who loves us tenderly and desires our healing and wholeness.

Yet, we seem to be bound and determined to hang on to the idea that we must prove that we are worthy. We are deeply ingrained in the belief that when God looks at us, the only thing God sees are our faults, shortcomings, and sins. We have been taught that we are sinful—full of sin, that we are corrupt, and God cannot stomach our presence until we are cleansed. We have to prove our worthiness through acts of penance, turning our lives around and becoming the person we think we are supposed to be. We forget that we are created in the image and likeness of the Creator, and that when the Life-giver stepped back to eye what had just been created, the response was, “This is good, so very good!”

That’s right, you heard it from the mouth of God, “You are good,” and you are loved more than you can imagine. When we come to know this reality, not just in our heads, but mostly in our hearts, transformation begins.

So, how do we cooperate with our transformation, this moving out of our small mind into the cosmic mind of Christ?

In I John 4:18 we read, “…perfect love casts out fear.” When we open our hearts and mind to the wholehearted love of God, there is no longer room for what is not love. Just like the light from a flashlight or candle dispels the darkness in a room during a power outage, that which is love dispels fear, hatred, judgment, and self-centeredness. It heals the wounds that bind us to old ways of thinking and behaving that are not life-giving. It opens our eyes and ears so that we are no longer blind or deaf to our true identity and purpose. This love heals us into wholeness, which is God’s greatest desire for us. There is a beautiful story—whether it is true or not is not important—about St. John Vianney who noticed that one of the hard-working farmers of the village would begin his day by coming into the church and just sit, looking toward the front of the church. One day, St. John Vianney’s curiosity got the best of him, and he asked the farmer what he was doing, and this simple man replied, “I look at the good God and the good God looks at me.”

“I look at the good God and the good God looks at me.”

The metanoia that Jesus calls us to begins as we open our minds and hearts to the love of God. Like St. John Vianney’s weathered, wise farmer, we take time to “look at the good God and the good God looks at me.” We spend time with the Creator who calls forth our true self with compassion and tenderness. We do not have to go into a church to do this, although we can. We find opportunities for this to happen in our own lives.

Instead of reading the paper with your morning coffee, sit quietly with your cup of warmth with the intention of looking at the Lover of us all and allowing this Lover to look at you. Notice the love and kindness that someone expresses for you with the awareness that God is the source of all love. Take a walk in nature, soak in its stillness, beauty and liveliness. Looking at yourself in the mirror and using a mantra of your choosing, remind yourself that you are good, loveable and loving. Find others, like yourself, who yearn for this transformation. Read scriptures, poetry and stories that speak to you of love. Ponder what is beautiful. Pray for the grace to be transformed. Remember, the ultimate reality of God is right here, right now.