William Barry, SJ, in his book, A Friendship Like No Other, invites us to be aware of our “thin places,” those moments where we easily find God. Barry’s challenge to name for ourselves our “thin places” was a challenge I took to heart, and I have come to two conclusions.

First, there are “thin places” that occur in my life that are unique, special places that I do not get to visit very often, but when I do the felt presence of God is almost overwhelming. Many of mine are places in nature, such as the beach, my grandparents’ farm, and being in the North Georgia Mountains, and they invite me to understand the vastness and creative power of our creator. As I stand and soak in the beauty of nature these places offer, I also find that I understand that my mere presence in life is but one piece of God’s magnificent, ongoing creative work.

Second, as Barry’s question of “thin places” remained on my heart, I found myself pondering it often during my Examen. Over time, I began to realize that there are some very basic rhythms and routines of my life that allowed me to readily and easily find God: snuggling my daughter, Abby, while sipping my morning coffee; sitting down to lunch with my kids after preschool to hear about their day; reading to my kids and our night time ritual of prayer; and savoring the few quieter moments with my hubby after the last door of my kids’ room was closed. I was surprised to find that the rhythms of my life are spotted with moments that easily allow me to find God. Without realizing it, these moments are checkpoints to see how the ones I love are doing and even more importantly “still points” that allow me to savor the gifts in my life and to deepen my awareness of God in all things.

I am sure as I continue to ponder my “thin places,” I will be surprised, yet again, as to where God routinely pops up in my day.

During Lent we published six audio-visual guided examens that introduce the Ignatian examen prayer.  These were very popular, and they now have a permanent home here on this site.  There’s a whole page on the examen on IgnatianSpirituality.com.  For even more, read my book, A Simple, Life-Changing Prayer.

If you’re interested in prayer, browse the resources on the page The What-How-Why of Prayer. Start with William Barry’s article, “Why do We Pray?”

We pray, then, at our deepest level, because we are drawn by the bonds of love. We pray because we love, and not just for utilitarian purposes. If prayer has beneficial effects—and I believe that it does—that is because prayer corresponds to our deepest reality. When we are in tune with God, we cannot help but experience deep well-being.

Something to think about | “Prayer is a matter of relationship. Intimacy is the basic issue, not answers to problems or resolutions ‘to be better.’ Many of life’s problems and challenges have no answers; we can only live with and through them. Problems and challenges, however, can be faced and lived through with more peace and resilience if people know that they are not alone. A man’s wife will not return from the dead, but the pain is more bearable when he has poured out his sorrow, his anger, and his despair to God and has experienced God’s intimate presence.”

William Barry, SJ
Letting God Come Close

J.J. O’Leary, SJ, says that the best thing to do is to ask:

The best thing we can do to nourish a prayer life is to regularly ask God to teach us how to pray. I don’t believe there is any gift God wants to give us more than the gift of prayer. But, it seems, so few people ever ask for that. And then with the few minutes that we spend in prayer, whether it’s five, ten, or sixty minutes a day, to ask the Lord to remember, to recognize where God is in the midst of our lives.

You might also read “Why Do We Pray?” by William Barry, SJ, and browse the other articles in the “What-How-Why of Prayer” section of this website.

William Barry, SJ, one of my favorite spiritual writers, draws on the poetry of Franz Wright and the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous in this superb article about faith, fear, and sanity. He says:

Only God can save us from our fears and our addictions. Many of us need to hit a wall in order to have a chance of waking up to the reality that we are living insane lives as long as we believe that we can control things on our own. When we wake up to the real world, we find God patiently waiting for us, ready to help, ready to save us and make us whole.

As the late Scottish philosopher John Macmurray said long ago: “The maxim of illusory religion runs: ‘Fear not; trust in God and He will see that none of the things you fear will happen to you’; that of real religion, on the contrary, is ‘Fear not; the things that you are afraid of are quite likely to happen to you, but they are nothing to be afraid of.’” Those who live the way of life of the Twelve Steps follow the maxim of real religion and have a shot at living without fear.

Something to think about | Often we tell ourselves, or we are told, in an effort to quell our desires, to look at all the good we already have.  We can be made to feel guilty and ungrateful for desiring what we want.  But if we do suppress our desires without being satisfied that God has heard us, then, in effect, we pull back from honesty with God.  Often, the result for our relationship with God is polite distance or cool civility.  Perhaps God cannot or will not grant what we want, but for the sake of the continued development of the relationship we need to keep letting God know our real desires until we are satisfied or have heard or felt some response. . . .

A woman may, for example, be experiencing a “dark night of the soul” and not like it at all.  Her desire may be for it to be removed.  She may be helped by the knowledge  that others before her have experienced the same thing and have been the better for it, but such knowledge does not  have to satisfy her desire to be rid of the dark night.  A short circuit in the relationship might occur if she tells herself or is told by her spiritual director to squelch her desire “because the experience is good for you.”  What she needs to experience is God’s response, not a theorem of spiritual theology.

William Barry, SJ

USA Today profiles Jim Martin, SJ. (“Everyone needs a medium. Mine is popular culture.”)

A suggestion for imaginative meditation.

William Barry, SJ, on having a friendship with God this Lent.

An exhibit about the Passion in Art at St. Louis University.

Lisa Kelly ponders what wasn’t said. (“It can be the most powerful message of all.”)

I’m a big fan of the writing of William Barry, SJ, especially what he has to say about friendship with God. Now he’s taken his message to YouTube. This video gives the gist of the idea. For more read this article and then read his book A Friendship Like No Other.

Fear is the root of evil in the world, writes William Barry, SJ, in his book Spiritual Direction and the Encounter with God. Thus, real religion must have a real answer to fear.  He quotes this wonderful aphorism from the theologian John Macmurray:

The maxim of illusory religion runs: “‘Fear not; trust in God and he will see that none of the things you fear will happen to you;” that of real religion, on the contrary, is “Fear not; the things that you are afraid of are quite likely to happen to you, but they are nothing to be afraid of.”

“Contemplative in action” is an Ignatian buzzword. It’s a coolly ironic label for the way Ignatian spirituality straddles the worlds of prayer and action. But what does it mean, really? Here’s a great explanation from William Barry, in his book A Friendship Like No Other:

This Ignatian notion can be understood as analogous to the kind of friendship that develops over a long time between two people. They are aware of each other even when they are apart or not engaging directly with each other. Although they may not be talking, at some deep level they are in touch with each other. Ignatius’s contemplative in action has such a relationship with God. Engaging closely with God over time, we allow the Spirit to transform us into people who are more like the images of God we are created to be—that is, more like Jesus, who was clearly a contemplative in action.