Some say God writes straight with crooked lines. Some others believe there is one line, one very straight one, that if you find it, there will be God's order and will for your life. I, on the other hand, believe God writes in circles.
As I reflect on the working of God in my life, it seems God always gathers up left behind threads, tossed out bits, and all in one intentional moment, weaves them ever so gently into the weft and warp of my life. Nothing goes undone. My work is to wait patiently, then there it is, circling back before me.
I have experienced God's healing this way. When I thought all was loss, when I gave up and surrendered to the largeness of what God is wanting to do, it was in that moment, an opportunity arises, or a person pops back in my path, or a gift of renewed hope is given and something deep down in my heart gets re-adjusted and comes back around. It is as if God keeps me turning until the right cog is connected and then there is movement that is connected to something larger, and then every thing falls in place.
This circling movement is odd. It seems to go against all that we are taught. As I have tried to put words around it for others, they tilt their heads in puzzlement as I explain my experience of God to them.
But then comes another confirmation. Today I read:
.....a circle is the shape most of us tread out in life: whether we live alone or are busy with the many tasks of family life, routine in the stuff we all work in. Days, months, years--the pattern repeats as regularly as the moving of the hands of the clock. Through the ages, the monks have been characterized by the regularity of our way of life. The whole of monastic life is founded upon patterns of repeated experience--the routine of daily prayer at set times, the times of work, of relaxation with the community. The recurrent cycle of the liturgical seasons as the year comes and goes is another, larger scale version of the same pattern.
A monastery can seem a world apart from the lives most people lead. Recognizing the circles we thread out, though, can make of monastic spirituality, which could otherwise appear distant to those who do not live behind monastery walls, a spirituality relevant to anyone who has to cope with a pattern of repeated experience.
The monk's day in any monastic community is structured around the liturgy of the hours: these are times of community prayer that follow the circle of the day. Vigils is the pre-dawn office of readings and psalms. Lauds, the morning office, begins the working day. The Midday Prayer occurs at noon, and Vespers is sung as the evening comes. The night office, Compline, takes us into the dark again. These moments constitute a framework for the spiritual life of monastics, a series of steps along a path by which we cross the hours of the day (Crossing: Reclaiming the Landscape of Our Lives, 6-7).
Here they are again--circles, repeated experiences creating life. I long for my experience of way God lives in me to become the pattern of how I live in God. It seems so simply profound. Does our modern striving for bigger and better, looking for the straight path ahead of us, get in the way of our living large in God, spinning in time with His music in our lives? I so want this congruency and integration. I want to live into the reality of this encircling rhythm. Ordinary, everyday, repeated patterns--this is my experience of God. I want this to be the form of how my common life with others in God is shaped.
See...God does write in circles!