Lent: Unknowing

I have a mentor who is teaching me through example and gentle instruction to sit in the Mystery, to relinquish my need to control, understand, and plan.  He promises that it is messy and holds no guarantees of worldly success but that it develops a keen awareness of God's smallest provisions.  

It's the opposite of knowing but the equivalent of love.  

I am bad at it.  The poet in me likes mystery, but the rest of me likes to execute a plan and enjoys positive feedback.  

The ancient church fathers often had adroit descriptions of our walk with Christ.  One anonymous writer from the Middle Ages described God as dwelling in a Cloud of Unknowing that could only be pierced with a dart of longing.  

Longing, tense and acute, should drench this Lenten journey.  And after the 40 day walk to the cross, shall I expect to know the Unknowable better?  My guess is that the mystery will build, like a bank of clouds, but so, I pray, will the Love. 



O God, you are my God,
  and I long for you.
My whole being desires you;
  like a dry, worn-out, and waterless land,
  my soul is thristy for you.
Let me see you in the sanctuary;
  let me see how mighty and glorious you are.
Your constant love is better than life itself,
  and so I will praise you.
I will give you thanks as long as I live;
  I will raise my hands to you in prayer.
My soul will feast and be satisfied,
  and I will sing glad songs of praise to you.
from Psalm 63