Where are Your Thin Places?

Listen: “Flood” by Jars of Clay

Over the last couple of years, many people have asked me if I thought about escaping to the mountains of Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho, or Montana (particularly in light of my public downfall). In fact, many people, including members of my family, almost expected me to move to the mountains. I have pondered it. I’ve pondered it my whole life. A few things have kept me from doing it: First, I have noticed how people who live in the mountains can take them for granted (not everyone, but some), and I never wanted to take the chance of the mountains loosing their magic for me by becoming ordinary. Some of the most extraordinary things become commonplace when we experience them everyday. Something special happens when I drive out I-70, hit Colorado, and start seeing the outline of the mountain peaks. Secondly, I have always felt a calling to connect with people around the extraordinary grace of Jesus. Not that the mountains don’t have people, but I have particularly felt called to Kansas City as a home base. And thirdly, in the midst of my darkest days (2019), I felt called to stay in Kansas City and courageously face my demons and trust that people in Kansas City will not only forgive, but rally in support of whatever calling from God emerged from my own chaos.

So back to the mountains and nature. I have always been enamored with nature and how being in nature renews me. This is a theme I have pondered and experienced my whole life. When I was a child, my dad entered me into the Indian Guides instead of Boy Scouts. This was a YMCA program that came under criticism years after I participated in it, and I was far too young to understand racial biases and stereotypes incorporated into the program. For me, it fostered a great appreciation for Native American history and, in particular, how Native Americans lived with spiritual reverence of nature and in harmony with the rhythms of nature. I remember reading a biography by Theodora Kroeber entitled Ishi: Last of His Tribe, which continued to fuel my love for Native American history, people, and culture.

In 1972, I was eleven years old and saw the movie Jeremiah Johnson. After watching the movie, I began dreaming of becoming a mountain man (like Robert Redford, of course!). By the age of fourteen, I was beginning to backpack, hike, and camp as much as my parents would allow. I wanted to live in the wilderness.

Nature and spirituality go together. Maybe not for everyone, but for many. Prior to the Industrial Age, everybody lived in tune with nature. You cannot study any of the spiritual traditions (like Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam, Judaism, or Christianity) without noticing the role of nature. God spoke to Moses through a burning bush, and then he went on an epic journey which took him through the Red Sea, up on Mount Sinai, and wandered forty years through the wilderness. Siddhartha Gautama left his palace and sat under a bohdi tree for 49 days and received enlightenment, becoming Buddha or “the enlightened one.” Jesus was baptized in the Jordan River to begin his public ministry, then spent forty days in the wilderness, fished and boated on Lake Galilee, and regularly retreated to the mountains, even delivering his most famous sermon from a mountain. Muhammad received his revelations in a cave on Mount Hira.

Nature speaks. It has a voice. Hear the Psalmist:

The heaven’s proclaim the glory of God.

   The skies display his craftsmanship.

Day after day they continue to speak;

   night after night they make him known.

They speak without a sound or word;

   their voice is never heard.

Yet their message has gone throughout

      the earth,

   and their words to all the world.

(Psalm 19:1-4; NLT)

Listen to Annie Dillard: “Whenever there is stillness there is the still small voice, God’s speaking from the whirlwind, nature’s old song, and dance” (Teaching a Stone to Talk). Or the meditations of John Muir: “As long as I live, I’ll hear waterfalls and birds and winds sing. I’ll interpret the rocks, learn the language of flood, storm, and the avalanche. I’ll acquaint myself with the glaciers and wild gardens, and get as near the heart of the world as I can” (Son of the Wilderness: The Life of John Muir).

Where are your thin spaces? In Celtic spirituality, the idea of thin places first emerged. It was the belief that some places on earth are so special that heaven and earth collapse together. In 2018, I was at the Giant Causeway in Northern Ireland, an internationally recognized “thin place” or “spiritual vortex.” Over the past decade I have traveled to Sedona for mountain biking expeditions, another internationally recognized “thin space” or “spiritual vortex.” I found these spaces to be sacred, almost magical. Maybe it’s the earth’s magnetic field, a vitamin D boost, the activation of eye movement (as in EMDR), or simply the interconnectedness of the Universe. But these spaces are all around. An ordinary bush can become “holy ground.”

In the monotheistic traditions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam), this phenomenon is described in theological terms as God’s omnipresence or immanence in all things. God’s creation reflects the beauty and glory of the creator, and God is present everywhere. Special encounters with God become special places or “holy places.” In other faith traditions, this phenomenon is described as pantheism in which the divine and the universe are identical (Hinduism and Buddhism). Some describe it as panentheism in which God is greater than the universe and includes and interpenetrates it, but still has ontological distinction (streams of Christianity, Judaism, Islam, and North and South American Native religion). Evolutionary biologists are still exploring the neuroscience of the brain and how the human brain interacts with its environment. (See Livewired: The Inside Story of the Ever-Changing Brain by David Eagleman, 2020.)

Nature nurtures the numinous in us. (See The Idea of the Holy by Rudolf Otto.) Take a walk in the woods. Stroll barefoot through the grass. Play in the snow. Climb a tree. Paddle a river. Sing in the rain. Dig in the dirt. Smell a wild flower. Find a turtle. Watch the clouds. Jump in a creek. Listen to the birds. Stare at the stars. Eat some wild berries. Catch a fish. Ascend a mountain. Swim in the ocean. Soar on the wind. Face the storm. Sit in the dark. Skip through the field. Laugh with a dolphin. Surf a wave.

Can you hear the voice of nature? What’s it saying?

Shalom

©realfredherron 2021