What I want to really say is that...

Morning conversations with Adi about yesterday's Intercessory gathering allows me to breathe and affirm the spiritual movements happening in my life as of late.  

I'm telling myself to succumb to this.  I have long resisted going in depth into writing about my spiritual experiences because it feels like it does not "cater" to a majority.  I didn't want my writing to just be perceived as a religious effort at conversion.  No.  This is not what it is about.   It is about walking a path that I have stumbled upon in the middle of life's complexities and how this path, the path of faith and the writing craft (art) has been helping me come to terms with everyday challenges and difficulties.  And so I continue and discover that as I capture the words the emerge inside my mind, I am actually unraveling a mystery.

We were late for the gathering but it seemed as if we arrived on time for the actual intercession and prayer. They asked me if I can play some songs while we were at it and so I did.  We prayed for the rebuilding of the apostolate upon firm foundations.  We prayed for restoration of bonds within ministry life.  We prayed for getting to know one another again as family.  As community.  

These prayers are not new to anybody who is in a charismatic movement.  This probably happens all the time.  For me, I've seen this happen twice in my lifetime and it still moves me as if it were my first.  

The life of a spiritual community is a magnified experience of family life.  Where family is the core, the community is an extension of that core which becomes part of society.  Like school.  Like work.  Like culture.  A family experiences relationship issues, heart issues, trust issues, despair issues, communication issues.  So does a community.  So does an organization.  So does a country.  

Yet in community life, especially one that is built on the Catholic faith, there is a distinct character on how the journey unfolds from the pattern of dying to rising of new life.  Yes, it can be a metaphor.  It can probably be an ideology.  

But for me, when they say it's the movement of the Spirit, I understand what they mean.  My closed eyes didn't keep the tears from escaping.  That yearning and longing and hoping ache that forces a sob out of your chest and a gush of tears to flow down to your cheeks is something more than just a psychological theory.  It seems to be transformative.  It's greater than what man can actually grasp in a raw experience like that when young hearts abandon themselves to an Unseen God and find liberation in the simple act of prayer is something that my human mind cannot completely explain.  

Perhaps scholars and mystics have experienced it and have understood the workings of this kind of circumstance when 2 or 3 are gathered in God's name and allow themselves to be consumed by His reality.  

I have not completely understood it but I have always found it inspiring and captivating to write about such mystical occurrences that I am fortunate enough to witness.  It is like being able to photograph the view from Mt. Everest's summit after enduring such a long and arduous climb.  Of course there are other similar experiences of that nature, but I suppose for me, I am quite moved by the spiritual workings of the God who created this life I'm living in.

So for that, I continue my attempt at writing and believing until I find my way to every milestone of this journey in faith and art.


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