spirituality

There’s truth and then there’s Gospel

The books and teachers that influenced me when I first started my spiritual journey are not the same books and teachers that speak to me now. That does not make them any less valuable, however. They are still very much a part of my story. They are part of my spiritual identity, part of my spiritual DNA. 

When I first began seeking God, enlightenment, a spiritual experience, or whatever you’d like to call it, I was attracted to anything and everything that was not Christianity. While I was raised as a Christian, sort of,* I turned my back on God and religion as a teenager. 

As a result, I found spiritual comfort in non-Christian teachings. I was particularly interested in and attracted to Buddhism and Taoism, although I also studied Hinduism, Judaism, Islam, and even Zoroastrianism. But Buddhism, especially Zen Buddhism, was where I found my spiritual home for many years. 

As I made my way, or rather was called back to, Christianity, however, many of the books and teachers whose words used to deeply move me, simply miss the spiritual mark for me now. That doesn’t mean they do not have value. Nor does it mean that they do not offer deep, powerful truths. Rather, the part of me that they once spoke to no longer exists, or has grown and changed into something or someone else. 

But these books and teachers are still part of who I am. They were the building blocks for the spiritual temple that is my life. I owe a debt of gratitude to and have immense respect for them. 

What I have found, however, is that many, if not all, of the teachings and practices that attracted me to Buddhism and its spiritual cousins exist in some shape or form in the vast and deep tradition that is Christianity. I simply was not ready to hear or see that when I first started this journey. 

Whether it is meditation, asceticism, or monasticism, Christianity has some version of it that feels as deep, true, and enriching as anything I found in these other traditions. The difference is that Christianity has God and, more specifically Jesus, guiding, informing, and leading the way through the journey. While I wasn’t ready for this in my youth, it brings my soul comfort, peace, and joy now. 

Coming to know Jesus and accepting him as my lord and savior has opened my heart and mind to so much of what I was unable and unwilling to see because of pride, prejudice, and stubbornness. It is no wonder I was such an insatiable seeker. Until I returned back to Christianity, nothing I read and no one I listened to was going to be good enough. 

I didn’t need spirituality as spirituality. Nor did I need wisdom for wisdom’s sake. What I needed was God. As my college religions professor told me when, after several semesters of studying a variety of religious traditions with him, I asked him what his personal beliefs were, “There is truth in all of these traditions, but in Christianity I have found the Gospel.” 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

*We went to church with my grandparents when we stayed at their house as kids, but my parents never really instilled in us Christian values or taught us about Christianity. Although they did start taking us to church at one point because I asked to go as a means of trying to find a solution to my feeling lost and out of place in this world. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. I still felt lost and out of place. 

Finding God at a social media impasse

I’ve begun to notice that the draw to social media is drawing me away from God. It is taking my peace and giving me little in return besides a few fleeting moments of pleasure when I see a new ‘like’ on one of my posts or when I see someone else’s post that makes me smile for a second. But then it leaves me feeling empty, sad, and full of regret. 

I’ve felt for quite some time that social media is a distraction and, worse, an addiction, but for years I have explained this feeling away by telling myself that it is just a tool and, as with all tools, it is useful as long as it’s not abused. While I still agree with this and acknowledge the value of social media if used discerningly, I fear that, like all addictions, it has begun taking more from me than it is giving. 

Historically, I have used social media to promote my business, to share my blog, and to interact with friends I otherwise might not see or talk to. It would not be an exaggeration to say that our business would not be as successful as it is if it were not for social media. Social media has allowed us to connect with and attract people we otherwise would not have been able to. Recently, however, it just feels like noise, like angry, confusing noise. 

I’m not necessarily blaming the platforms. While social media has certainly changed over the years from what it once was, which was a way to connect and interact with friends, into the algorithm and advertisement driven drama machine it is now, I have also changed. When I first got on social media, I was young, lonely, and interested in connecting with like-minded people. As I’ve matured, and especially as I’ve grown spiritually, I’m less lonely and I’m also less interested in connecting with people simply because I agree with or share certain interests with them. I am looking for something deeper. 

I do still enjoy sharing jiu-jitsu videos, funny memes, and even inspirational videos or quotes with friends and family, but it often feels like the price is too high to pay. Wading through all of the politics, divisiveness, and propaganda just to get to the odd post here and there that I find interesting simply isn’t worth it. Whatever amount of momentary pleasure I get is far outweighed by the feelings of anger, sadness, and disappointment I feel during and after I scroll aimlessly through the swamp of unrest that has become social media. 

Truth be told, I’m not sure I’d even notice this in such a profound way if it were not for my spiritual practices. The more God draws me nearer to him, the less satisfied I have become with other things. In fact, the nearer God draws me to him, the more dissatisfied I seem to become with that which is not God.

Today, for example, I had an amazing morning. I woke up, got my daughter ready for school, did my morning prayer hour, went for a walk with my wife, went to jiu-jitsu class, and talked with some of my friends. When I got home, I took a shower, had a healthy breakfast, and sat down to do some writing and reading. All in all, I couldn’t have asked for a better start to my day, but then I checked social media. Immediately, I felt something shift. 

The disturbing thing is that I didn’t necessarily want to check social media. I can’t even say I checked it out of habit. It was more of an urge. It was like I was being pulled in. 

I was having a great day. I felt connected to God, to my family, and to my friends. I couldn’t have really asked for more. Then, just as I was about to go deeper, just as I was about to get into a good book or do some writing, I felt the need to see what other people were doing, what they were saying, and what they were saying about me. And just like that, after only a few minutes of mindless scrolling, my feeling of peace, joy, and purpose all disappeared. 

I knew exactly what happened and it really bothered me. I locked my social media platforms with the Freedom app I recently installed on my phone, and then went back to what I was doing. The whole experience left me feeling really unsettled. 

What made matters even worse, however, and what still bothers me as I write this, is that, while I was reading and again while I was writing, I reflexively grabbed my phone to check social media more times than I care to admit. I did this even though I was locked out of my accounts and even though I didn’t want to. And somehow, not being able to check my accounts made me feel worse, or at least as bad, as when I did check them. 

This is what addictions are, really, isn’t it? They are unhealthy behaviors that compulsively draw us away from God, often against our better judgment and even against our will. What makes addiction so insidious, however, is that it convinces us that it is helping us, that we can’t live without that to which we are addicted, and that stopping will be more painful than continuing on toward self destruction. 

As I sat there processing this experience, I looked at my books, I looked at my prayer chair, and I looked at my laptop, and thought about all of the things I could be doing to deepen my connection with God or to improve my life, and how scrolling through social media is not one of those things. But the whole thing left me feeling helpless because, as much as I couldn’t imagine a life addicted to social media, I also I couldn’t imagine life without social media. I was and am at an impasse, but I also know that at every impasse, God is waiting for us to choose him, and he will always help us when we are willing. 

And so I remain to pray.

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

He began to teach them many things

Yesterday morning during my prayer hour, my Biblical readings contained the following story from the Gospel of Mark:

The Apostles gathered together with Jesus and reported all they had done and taught. He said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while.” People were coming and going in great numbers, and they had no opportunity even to eat. So they went off in the boat by themselves to a deserted place. People saw them leaving and many came to know about it. They hastened there on foot from all the towns and arrived at the place before them. When Jesus disembarked and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things (Mark 6:30-34, NABRE).

As with all of the Gospels, there is a lot to contemplate in this passage, but the part of the story that really caught my attention was the last verse that says, “When Jesus disembarked and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.” 

For whatever reason, “…and he began to teach them many things,” really stuck in my mind. I couldn’t let it go. What are the many things that Jesus taught them? Why didn’t Mark write these teachings down? What did those he taught do with the teachings? Were they converted? Were they saved? Did they, in turn, share Jesus’s teachings with others?

As I meditated on this for a while, the thought came to me, “What if Mark intentionally left this statement open-ended? Perhaps it’s left open-ended like that because he is telling us that we are them to whom he taught and is teaching many things. His teaching didn’t end there with that crowd. When he left them, he continued teaching up until the moment of this death. Even after his death, burial, resurrection, and ascension, he continued teaching. In fact, he is still with us teaching us through the spirit.”

This thought immediately brought me a sense of comfort. In truth, I am one of the crowd hastening to Jesus and without him, I am like a sheep without a shepherd. And like that crowd, Jesus has taught and continues to teach me many things. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Outgrowing our spiritual travel companions

On the spiritual path, as we ascend toward God, we will have to let people go along the way. No matter how close we may be to them or how big of an influence someone may have had on us, not everyone is meant to be our spiritual travel companion forever. We all have to make our own decisions in life and God will call us in different directions. 

It can be painful parting ways. Some people have literally helped to shape our hearts. The impact and impression made by them on our lives can be deep and long-lasting. If we have loved them, we will experience grief, sorrow, and even anger or disbelief when it is time to part, but when it’s time to let go, it’s time to let go. 

God will not allow us to hold onto that which is no longer for us. If we try, we only make things worse and prolong our suffering. We are asked, especially in times like these, to have faith, to trust that our Heavenly Father truly loves us and wants what is best for us. 

It helps to remember, although it can be difficult to do so when we are in pain, that we are never really alone. No matter how lonely we get, no matter how hopeless we may feel, God is always with us. All we have to do is reach out for help and his loving hand will be there to guide us through whatever darkness we find ourselves in. 

As we move with and toward God, we will inevitably change. This means our relationships will change also. Like a butterfly breaking free from the chrysalis that once contained and nourished it, we must shrug off our old selves and our old relationships as God calls us to grow closer to him. 

If we have friends and family who are willing and able to grow with us, we should consider ourselves fortunate because the spiritual path is often one of solitude, even when we are not actually alone. Prayerful solitude should lead us back to community, however. Spiritual community helps to form, guide, and motivate us through the darkest nights when we feel lost, scared, and forsaken. Our spiritual community may not be who we expected or even desired, but they will be who we need. Our Heavenly Father always provides. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Divine mic drop

“‘You are God’s Beloved!’ I hope that you can hear these words as spoken to you with all the tenderness and force that love can hold. My only desire is to make these words reverberate in every corner of your being ‘You are the Beloved…’ The voice that speaks from above and from within whispers softly or declares loudly: ‘You are my Beloved son or daughter, on you my favor rests.’”
-Henri Nouwen, Spiritual Direction: Wisdom for the Long Walk of Faith (2006, p 29)

As I read this during my morning prayers, I found myself thinking about people that I love and praying for them. I sat there in silence wishing that my daughter could hear and know these words as true, that she is God’s beloved. I thought about my wife and wished, in the depth of her being, she could feel these words, that she is God’s beloved daughter and on her his favor rests. Then a friend came to mind and I wished the same for her. This continued as different people for whom I have a special place in my heart popped into my head. 

Right then, mid-thought, a voice cut through all of the prayers, thoughts, and images that were previously running through my mind. This voice said, “You wish this for everyone else, but why can’t you hear it yourself?” Taken aback, I sat there for what felt like an eternity, but was most likely only a few minutes, meditating on this question that went straight to my heart. 

“Am I actually God’s beloved?” I asked myself. “Is that really true? Am I really worthy of his love like that? Why don’t I know it? Why can’t I feel it? What is it in me that is keeping me from accepting this powerful truth that I so freely wish for others? Why do I exclude myself from this miraculous gift? What is it you are holding onto that you believe is preventing you from being worthy of his love and forgiveness?”

In this brief moment of thought and prayer, my life flashed before my mind’s eye and I was shown a deep truth that I had been previously unwilling to see. It’s not that God didn’t love me, but that I was unable or unwilling to accept his love. In wanting others to experience the abundance of God’s grace and mercy, he was able to show me that I was holding myself back from also experiencing it. They are God’s beloved children, but I am also. 

Now what exactly does this mean and how will my life and perspective change after having this realization gently and lovingly forced upon me? I have no idea, but I do know that I am willing to allow God to show me. I am willing to let him love me. I am willing to be loved, to be his beloved. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Our primary purpose

On Tuesday, September 11, 2001, I was working at a bank as a floating teller. As a floating teller, I traveled from branch to branch to fill in as needed. On this particular day, I was working in one of the Annapolis branches and I had a doctor’s appointment scheduled at lunchtime, so I was going to be leaving work early. 

As we set up the branch, getting all of our cash drawers ready for when the doors opened to the public, we saw the news that a plane had just crashed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center. We were all shocked and not quite sure what to do, but it was time to open. Then, just after we opened the doors, the news came in that another plane hit the World Trade Center and we all sensed that the world as we knew it had just changed forever. 

There was a haunting sense of concern and confusion throughout the branch as we did our best to do our jobs as usual, but as the towers collapsed, we all just wanted to go home. I tried to call the doctor’s office to confirm my appointment, but no one answered the phones. I soon realized that, whether the doctor’s office was open or not, I still had an appointment, I still wanted to go home, and this was my chance to do so. So, when it was time for me to go to the doctor, I left work as planned and went home instead. 

At home were my two roommates, both older than me but also very good friends of mine. In fact, we are still friends to this day and stay in touch often. We briefly discussed what had happened and kept our eyes on the news. As the day went on and the initial shock wore off, the realness of it all started to sink in. 

That evening, like every other Tuesday night at that time in my life, we had a meeting to attend in a church basement. Every week a bunch of us gathered together to discuss our lives, our relationship with God, and the spiritual experiences we had each had, through which we shared a common bond. We met regularly, and still do in a different forum, so that others who may be interested in what we have to offer may find us and a way to change their lives. 

As was our custom, we gathered, had some coffee or tea, talked for an hour, said a prayer, and then began to part ways. Before we left, however, one of the members of our group pointed out that no one, not a single person, had spoken of or even alluded to the events of that morning in our meeting. In spite of the severity and gravity of the event, it simply never came up, and the reason it never came up was because that was not what we were there for. 

We knew our purpose for being together, which was to carry the message of the profound change that had taken place in our lives after we gave our lives to God, cleaned up our pasts, and then shared this good news freely with others. We were not there to talk about current events, no matter how tragic. For that hour, the only thing that mattered was that we share with each other and whoever else wanted to listen, what our lives were like, the spiritual transformation we had experienced, the process through which we experienced that transformation, and what our lives were like as the result of that transformation, and, as this gentleman pointed out, we stuck to that primary purpose, even on what is now infamously known as 9/11. 

I think about this experience and the lesson it offers quite often. If I know my purpose in life or in specific relationships or situations, and I stick to that purpose, I am much less likely to get caught up in all of the other things going on in life that either don’t concern me or that I cannot do anything about. This is not the same as apathy, however. I care a lot about a lot of things. Rather, it is about purpose and effectiveness. 

If, on that day, we had allowed the events of 9/11 to seep into our gathering, we would not have been able to do the work we were there to do. It would have made us less effective. And, the work we were there to do was and is extremely important. It literally changed my life and the lives of many others. By talking about the events of 9/11, we would not have been talking about God and spiritual transformation, and that would have been a shame. 

I have found that this principle carries over quite well into other aspects of my life. For example, when I am with my family, if I focus on my family and not on current events or politics, I am much more useful to them and we enjoy our time together more fully. When I’m at work and my attention is on the work itself and on my relationships with my coworkers, as opposed to gossip or personal opinions for example, I not only get more work done, but it is also much more satisfying and fulfilling to be at work in general. Likewise, when I’m at jiu-jitsu, my primary purpose is to teach or practice jiu-jitsu, and when I’m at church my primary purpose is to worship and praise God. 

In every aspect of my life, if I can define my purpose for being there and give my attention to that purpose without being distracted by extraneous issues that I have no control or influence over, my life is better and I am able to serve others more effectively. Of course, there is a time and place for current events, politics, etc. and for having an opinion on these things. There are even people whose purpose and profession it is to do so. However, I find that when I adhere to my life’s primary purpose, which is to love and serve God and to love and serve my fellows, I don’t actually have much time or desire to get caught up in those things or to drag them into places they don’t belong. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

With practice and grace

The task of a person called to live a contemplative life is to notice things, to observe God in everyday occurrences, in mundane interactions, and in the places people normally do not look for God. But if God is, isn’t God in everything? Like Adam and Eve in the garden after eating the forbidden fruit, isn’t it we who are hiding, not God? 

The call to contemplation begins as a whisper. It’s a fleeting glimpse into eternity that leaves us wanting more. In a moment, God catches us off guard and grabs our attention. He pulls back the veil and we get to see what he sees, and feel what he feels. But as quickly as he reveals himself to us, he withdraws, leaving us full and empty at the same time. 

In what feels like his absence, we long for his presence. We begin to sense, to know, that nothing less than perfect union with perfect God is going to be enough. And yet there is something in the way. We can’t quite get there no matter how much we want to. 

God is always present, constantly pouring himself out, in and through us, but we are not always present to and for him. We have to practice. Awareness takes practice. Consciousness takes practice. Stillness takes practice.

As we practice, as we awaken to God’s presence, God’s presence begins to awaken within us. More and more often, we start to feel him acting through us, we begin to see him in our life as it unfolds before us, and we start to see and hear him in and through others. Over time, with practice and grace, God-consciousness becomes the rule, not the exception. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

The heartache of the spiritual path

The spiritual life does not save us from heartache or suffering. It opens us up to experience life more fully. By choosing to live with an open heart, we are choosing both joy and sadness, pleasure and pain, connection and heartbreak. We get it all. 

Whether we know it or not, when we step onto the spiritual path, we are making a decision to feel everything, to experience everything. As a spiritual director once told me, “Unfortunately, we do not get to selectively numb. We can feel everything or nothing.” Openness is a package deal.

But it’s hard. Living with an open heart is hard. Love is hard. People we care about pass away, some betray or abandon us, and others disappoint us and let us down. And, in spite of this, we have to keep going. 

People who were on the path before us, who once led, guided, and accompanied us, they sometimes fall off or walk away, or they may simply stop seeking. They stop growing. Likewise, people we entered onto this journey along side, or met along the way, may not stay with us for the long haul. We are lucky if they do, but chances are they won’t. 

Quite often what feels like a parallel path of lifelong companionship turns out to be only a brief meeting at a crossroads. Even the deepest connections, connections that feel eternal, may not last but a moment before we are pulled by God or self in different directions. And parting hurts. 

If we are dedicated to this path, however, if we have chosen to love and seek God above all else, we must keep going. For those of us who long so deeply for divine connection with the infinite and eternal source of all things that nothing else will suffice, we must continue on the path even, or perhaps especially, when it gets lonely. We must walk in faith with our broken hearts toward the one who heals all wounds. 

But it’s not going to be easy. Easy was never the promise anyway. It’s going to be real. It’s going to be true. It’s going to be meaningful. It’s going to be rewarding. It’s going to be fulfilling. But it’s not going to be easy. 

This hardened world will break our fragile hearts, but as the late Leonard Cohen said, “That’s how the light gets in.” 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

God’s goodnight kiss

As I finished my daily writing, my wife and my daughter were both fast asleep. Normally, I’d be right behind them, but on this night I was up later than usual. I had overbooked myself that day and I was behind on my work. The fact that I had overslept that morning didn’t help, but I needed it. It had been a long week with lots of jiu-jitsu classes, wrestling practices, appointments, meetings, and a tight schedule all around. 

Normally, I wake up at around 5:30am to do my morning prayers before my wife and daughter get up for work and school, respectively. On this day, I slept until nearly 7am. Actually, we all did. With only one bathroom, this caused quite a scurry to get everyone out the door on time and, being unwilling to give up my morning prayers, which, between my daily readings and meditation usually take about an hour, I was late for jiu-jitsu. I wasn’t scheduled to teach, so it wasn’t really a big deal, but my tardiness set the tone for the rest of my day. 

Fast forward and now it’s time for bed and I still hadn’t finished my writing for the day. So I sat down to write and, of course, I was stuck. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been more of a morning person than an evening person. My creative work is no different. In the morning, if I’m not distracted, the work just seems to flow out of me. At night, it’s much more of a struggle. Being tired doesn’t help. So here I am, past my bedtime, stuck at my keyboard determined to get something out. 

You could say I had writer’s block, but I’ve learned that there is no such thing as writer’s block. What feels like writer’s block is really just pride manifesting itself as fear, frustration, and perfectionism. Somehow writer’s believe that everything they write should be their best work and, if it isn’t, they convince themselves that some mysterious force is blocking them from writing. In actuality, no great creative work happens without a lot of mediocre, or even terrible, work happening first. The key to good writing, therefore, is to just write. 

So I started to get some ideas out. After a lot of false starts, typed and deleted sentences, and prideful disappointment in myself, things began to flow. After about an hour, I finally got to a point where I was pleased enough with what I had written that I was willing to publish it. I posted it to my blog, closed up my laptop, and got myself ready for bed. 

At night, before I lie down, I always go into my daughter’s room to check on her, give her a kiss on the cheek, and say my evening prayers at her bedside. This night was no different, except it was. My routine was the same, but as I walked away from her, I was overwhelmed with emotion. Maybe I was just overly tired. Perhaps it was a sense of release from having gotten through a very long day. But it felt like more. 

I went into my room, laid my head on my pillow, and was struck with a feeling of pure love coupled with a vision, like a waking dream. It lasted but a moment, but in that moment it was as if God uploaded into my consciousness a lifetime’s worth of information all at once. 

What I saw in my mind’s eye was me giving my daughter her goodnight kiss, but I saw it from the outside looking in. Words come up short, but in this single kiss, I could see the love transferred between us. I could see my love for her flowing from me into her, her reception of my love flowing back into me like the closing of a circuit, and God’s love for both of us surrounding us and flowing through the entire relationship. It felt like God gave me a glimpse, even if ever so briefly, into what he sees. 

This experience passed as suddenly as it came to me. Exhausted from the day, I fell asleep. The next morning, I woke up remembering what had happened the night before. As life goes, however, the day’s demands distracted me from reflection. It wasn’t until much later that I was able to really acknowledge and process this experience. In my reflection, I realized how easy it is to ignore, deny, or dismiss these moments and to simply move on with our lives, but I refuse to do so. I can’t. 

These experiences, fleeting glimpses into the mystery of God’s love, leave me longing for more, longing for God, but also extremely grateful that he chose to come to me in this way. Now my task is to not allow this transformative experience to go to waste, to use it, like so many others that I have had like it, as fuel to go deeper, to get closer, and to be still and present more often. But knowing that I cannot manufacture spiritual experiences, that I cannot make God come to me, and that grace is a gift undeserved, the best I can do is to pray. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Fumbling into spirituality

When I was first getting clean and sober over twenty seven years ago, I was told that I had an illness for which the only known treatment was a spiritual experience, a complete personality transformation through the development of a conscious contact with a higher power. Up until this point, I’m not sure I’d ever even heard the word spiritual before, let alone understood what it meant to have a spiritual experience. I did have some concept of God from going to church as a kid and I knew about religion in a general sense, but spirituality was entirely new territory for me. 

This newness may be one of the reasons I was attracted to, or at least not opposed to, this idea that felt revolutionary to me. At that point in my life, religion scared me and I had rejected the idea of God as a teenager, but I was willing, mostly through pain and desperation, to take a shot at this thing called spirituality. And I feel very fortunate that the person helping me at the time, my spiritual director, so to speak, never pushed his own beliefs on me. Rather, he introduced me to a variety of spiritual and religious ideas, books, and teachings, and encouraged me to find my own way. 

In the beginning, however, this all confused me, as I thought I had to construct a higher power for myself from all of the different source material I was studying. I tried to take a little bit from here and a little bit from there, keeping what I liked and ignoring or discarding what I didn’t. It was as if I was working on my own Create-A-God kit with the hope of coming up with a higher power I could trust and rely on. It wasn’t until much later when I realized that, if God is anything, he isn’t what I want or imagine him to be. He is what and who he is, beyond my limitations, expectations, and understanding. 

All of this to say, my first steps onto the spiritual path were clumsy to say the least. I was like a man fumbling around in the dark for a light-switch, bumping into furniture, tripping on the carpet, and knocking over lamps along the way. But the beautiful thing about the spiritual path, especially in the beginning, is that it is broad and forgiving, leaving room for mistakes, misunderstandings, and missteps, and I made many. 

In hindsight, I see that God’s grace allowed me this time of discovery. My curiosity and sincerity have always been rewarded by him with the love and understanding of a patient father, even if sometimes I tested the limits of this patience and he let me know it. But God is forgiving – it’s a good thing too because I have done and continue to do plenty for which I have needed forgiveness – and the longer I walk this path, the more I can feel the truth of this. All he asks is that, whether we call it spirituality, religion, or something more specific, we step forward in faith. If we do this, he will always be there to help us up when we fall. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.