I had put the job off for several weeks. Excuses were easy: I don’t have time now; it’s not really important; no one will notice. But my compulsive-work-oriented-self took over and wouldn’t let me come up with one more excuse to not do this job. It’s time you cleaned these bookshelves. It’s bad for books to be sitting indefinitely on a dusty bookshelf. Don’t put it off again!
I sighed, gave up my resistance and grabbed a dust cloth and some spray dust cleaner. The object of my dialogue was a tall bookshelf with five individual shelves which stood proudly in my dining room - the place where we are fed. Each shelf was filled with books that reflected a lifetime of learning and a special passion for textbooks to feed my brain and spirit.
I pulled a chair over to the front of the bookshelf, reminding myself to be careful, and climbed up on the chair. My plan was incredibly simple. Take a book off the shelf; hold it in my left hand. With my right hand, spray and wipe the cleaner over the space the book occupied: dust the book around the pages; dust the front and back cover and put the book back. No problem at all.
In an activity like this one, no thinking exists. My mind was quiet; my hands became comfortable with the process and the job was getting done. Life was good and my conscience was quiet.
And then everything changed! I had taken a copy of the Bible off the shelf, sprayed and wiped the space it occupied but I didn’t put the Bible back. Unaccountably, I put down my dust cloth and my spray cleaner and opened the bible to the place where the Bible “wanted” to open. And I read the Prologue to the Gospel of John out loud, to a non-existent audience:
“In the Beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God.”
And I read the Prologue again, out loud:
“In the Beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God.”
And I read the Prologue a third time, out loud. And my world shifted. It was as if my attention became entirely focused on these words that had just come to life in my heart and spirit. To ensure I “got” the message, the space around me became filled with God’s Presence.
I had never had an experience like this one. And yet, I immediately identified the experience as the Presence of God. I had no doubts or questions about the reality of the experience. It was simply an experience of God appearing in my dining room that I KNEW was going to change my life.
Without thinking, I got down from my chair, called a close friend and tried to tell her what had just happened. She listened quietly and when she could get a word into my monologue, she
said, “Well gotta go” and hung up the phone. I never saw her again. I’m sure she thought I had “gone around the edge” and wanted nothing to do with my experience. Surprisingly, her leaving didn’t bother me. I remembered every detail of my God experience and finished cleaning the bookshelves in a state of quiet and peace.
I did not attempt to share the experience for several years. It needed to take up residence in my heart and spirit until the time was right. And when I was finally able to share the experience, I was filled with tears and the absolute joy and mystery of meeting God in my dining room while cleaning my books on my bookshelf.
Each time I think of this God experience, my spirit and heart meet in a place of deep gratitude.
Tears always remind me of the day it all began. I marvel at the way words in a book can illuminate God’s presence in our lives. Each word points to a spiritual reality that is ours to examine with our heart as well as our intellect.
Discovering the message being conveyed in the Gospel of John invites us to embrace a new world of God-Present-Everywhere in our lives. Praise God! Alleluia! Amen.
