Masters of 'pause'

We’re always onto the next thing. Looking ahead. What’s the next show we’re going to see? What’s the next book we’re going to read? What’s next on the calendar? What’s the next holiday we’ve got to plan ahead for, or vacation, or event? What’s next for this relationship? What can I expect as my parents grow older? What comes next?

New and next: These are holy words for an industrious, individualistic, motivated, modern people. But there’s nothing new under the sun. So that leaves us with, what’s next?

The Israelites, in Exodus 16, were asking, “What’s next?” too. They were in the wilderness, and, looking back on their lives in Egypt, they groaned for a vision of what’s next. “We used to sit by pots of meat! We had our fill! We had bread--so much bread!”

Never mind that God had just led them to camp in Elim, where twelve springs of crystal clear water flowed and fed seventy date palms, where figs and fruits were in abundance. Never mind that God was preparing them, to feed them manna from his own hand, and to teach them reliance on hope and on faith. On him.

We live like tourists, man. Always taking pictures but never taking stock. Always walking the prescribed paths and following the itinerary. We care more about the collecting of experiences--like, I gotta go to the same place they went to and see the same sights they saw--we’re never forging a path into the unknown. We’re never trailblazing. We want to know what comes next. No surprises.

We can’t know the future because no one does. There’s no such thing as a determinate future. That means--stay with me here--that God himself doesn’t even know the future. That’s going to read like damnable heresy to some of you, because I just asserted that there is something God doesn’t know. It’s quite the opposite. God’s knowledge is so vast, so all-encompassing, that he knows all possible futures. He knows what would happen given the laws of physics in our natural world. He knows what could happen, given all of the possibilities that come as the result of limited, free choices. And he knows what should happen in order to enact his most perfect plan. This is a higher view of God’s knowledge than the idea that there’s one determined future which God fully knows.

So if we can’t really know what’s next, because no one does, why do we camp out there in our minds? And why do we camp out in the past, like the Israelites reminiscing about ‘sitting by pots of meat’ in Egypt (as slaves)? Especially when the abundance of Elim is all around us, and fresh on our minds.

We camp out in what’s next, and in our memories of ‘next’ experiences long past, because we’re simply awful at living in the moment. What was and what will be are fun little mental exercises, which usually find us the main character in our own little stories. But what is requires presence. What is teaches us that it’s not all about us. What is requires pause.

Stop, for one moment, and take stock. Notice your breathing. Who’s breathing for you? Notice: What’s one thing you hear? see? smell? taste? feel? Notice: Mentally scan your body from head-to-toe. Is there an itch? a pain? a temporary flare-up of something--anything--which requires your present attention? Close your eyes. Ok, you can’t read this with your eyes closed, so do this on your own time. Close your eyes and picture the color red. Then orange. Then yellow, as you breathe deeply. Picture green. Then blue; you’re holding each color in your mind’s eye for a moment. Picture regal purple, in all of its magnificent richness and splendor. Purple is the color of royalty. Linger on thoughts of purple.

What a stupid exercise! That’s what I thought when I first tried it. Now it’s my very first conscious practice in moments of stress. I make the colors every day. Here’s another one: Linger on a word. Every time your mind moves from the word, gently remind yourself of your waking word. Here’s another one: Breathe four seconds in, hold four, out four, hold four. Here’s one from church history, the Jesus’ centering prayer: Over and over, in your mind, say, “Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” When your mind starts to wander, simply bring it back to “Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Before long, that prayer will melt into a tangible knowledge of such mercy, and your prayer will have to adapt to your new reality, as one who has received mercy. Before long, your Jesus’ centering prayer will become just the divine name, over and over.

I repent. See how, even now, I was preparing you for what’s next?

You’ll be bad at these practices at first. I was. I’m bad at them still, today. I’m writing this more for my own benefit than for yours. But it’s not about ‘getting somewhere.’ Evaluative mind-states like, “This is good,” or, “This is bad,” are just another way that we prepare ourselves for what’s next. It’s not about what’s next.

It’s about becoming masters of the pause-button. It’s about presence.

Jesus himself said this, of the past and the future: Don’t worry about tomorrow. Which of you, by worrying, can add a single hour to your time? And leave the past behind; no one who puts hand to plow and looks back is fit for the Kingdom of God.

Are we here to heed the words of Jesus or are we just playing like we really trust him?