David Orendorff · Psalm 127

One of the great spiritual folks of our times was Henri Nouwen. Nouwen, who died in 1996, was a Catholic priest who taught at several theological institutes and universities in his home country of the Netherlands and in the United States. He lectured and wrote books in such a way that lives, including mine, were changed. One of his most influential books, The Wounded Healer, changed how we speak of compassion.

Just before his death Nouwen began the necessary work to publish The Inner Voice of Love: A Journey through Anguish to Freedom. He died before its publication. The content of the book was a great surprise to many of Nouwen’s readers. In this little book Nouwen confessed to a time of great spiritual poverty toward the end of his life. Here was one admired and loved by many; who had successfully advised countless others in finding and living in grace, now confessing to a time in which he had lost his faith and had fallen into great despair. In the introduction Nouwen writes:

This book is my secret journal. It was written during the most difficult period of my life, from December 1987 to June 1988. That was a time of extreme anguish, during which I wondered whether I would be able to hold on to my life. Everything came crashing down - my self-esteem, my energy to live and work, my sense of being loved, my hope for healing, my trust in God…everything. Here I was, a writer about the spiritual life, known as someone who loves God and gives hope to people, flat on the ground and in total darkness.

What had happened? I had come face to face with my own nothingness. It was as if all that had given my life meaning was pulled away and I could see nothing in front of me but a bottomless abyss.[1] Henri J. M. Nouwen, The Inner Voice of Love: A Journey Through Anguish to Freedom, (Doubleday, New York, 1996), xiii

Life has a way of unmaking the best of us and showing us our abyss. The Psalmist says it this way:

Unless God builds the house, the masons labor in vain.
Unless God guards the city, the guard keeps watch in vain.

When we think of ourselves as self-made wonders, life has a way of pointing out how truly foolish and vulnerable we are; when we are cocky and over-confident about our relationships, life has a way of quickly humbling us. It might be broken trust, betrayal or terminal illness, but whatever it is we know for certain that in spite of our desire to believe that we made this love, and in spite of our efforts to continually make this love, we are vulnerable and the dearest people and parts of our lives can disappear as easily as they first appeared and we are nothing.

We struggle to make life something. But no matter how hard we try to have control of our lives, and subsequently the lives of those around us, no matter how carefully we lay the bricks of our days, we labor in vain. Unless God has built the house we are certain to come to those times when “we are flat on our back and in total darkness” and know that we are nothing.

There is another way. We can approach life as if it had a tag in the collar reading, “Made by God.” We can resist the foolish temptation to see life as ours and instead see it as God’s. Then no matter how low we are brought there is always God working in us and for us. And where God reigns there is love yet to be discovered and joy yet to be tasted.

It was during this darkest of times for Henri Nouwen that he discovered not only the great abyss of his self made soul, but the great healing of God for one even as destitute as he. Nouwen writes this conclusion to his little book and to his life:

Today, the period in which I wrote these spiritual imperatives seems far away and long ago. Reading them now, eight years later, makes me aware of the radical changes I have undergone. I have moved through anguish to freedom, through depression to peace, through despair to hope. It certainly was a time of purification for me. My heart, ever questioning my goodness, value, and worth, has become anchored in a deeper love and thus less dependent on the praise and blame of those around me. It also has grown into a greater ability to give love without always expecting love in return….

What once seemed such a curse has become a blessing. All the agony that threatened to destroy my life now seems like the fertile ground for greater trust, stronger hope, and deeper love….[2] ibid., 116-118

There is in each of us that inner voice of love that never abandons us and always would help us. There are several things we can do to approach that inner voice and listen to what is says.

We first approach a God made life when we pray. In prayer we speak to God saying the things we need to say about our lives. A woman, writing about her prayer life, says, “I know but two prayers; ‘Help me, help me, help me,’ and: ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.’” When we speak to God we awaken the inner voice of God which is love.

Secondly, we can listen to God. Too often, I think, our prayers become a one way conversation, from our mouths to God’s ears. At a Friday reunion group we were talking about what makes a good leader. Andy Pierce said, “Two ears, one mouth.” This adage also works for our relationship with God. We ought to spend twice as much time listening in the study of scripture and the quietness of meditation as we do speaking.

When we speak and listen, pray and surrender, we are not making our lives as much as asking God to make our lives. God is the architect who designs the house, orders the materials and schedules the work. We are the masons who in prayer look to God’s design and build the house God has made.

A third way we approach a life made by God is by taking advantage of the help that comes our way. The help may not come in the form for which we prayed, in fact, it may come in the thing we prayed to avoid; it may come in our greatest fear. But help does come, never too soon and never too late, but always just on time.

I am reminded of that old story in which the farmer is stranded by a flood. The water is rising and he is fervently praying to God for help. Along comes someone in a four wheel drive vehicle and offers to drive the farmer to safety. The farmer refuses, saying he has put his trust in the Lord.

The water rises and the farmer climbs to the second floor of his house. Along comes someone in a rescue boat and offers to transport the farmer to safety. The farmer refuses, saying he has put his trust in the Lord.

The water continues to rise and the farmer climbs to his roof. Again someone comes, this time in a helicopter, and offers to fly the farmer to safety. The farmer again refuses, saying he has put his trust in the Lord.

The water continues to rise and the farmer drowns. Arriving before God he complains. “I was in a great flood. I prayed faithfully to you for help. Why did you not come? Why did you let me drown?”

God is stunned and for a moment speechless, then replies, “I did send help. I sent a 4 wheel drive, a boat and a helicopter. Why did you drown?”

Help, not made by us, is coming to us all the time. Henri Nouwen’s writings or some other book might be the 4 wheel drive. The boats may be the people who surround us with love, our friends, families and small groups, sometimes even our enemies. And the helicopter may be a thousand things from music, to sailing, to a treatment center. To live a God made life we must accept the help God sends.

And finally, we approach God made lives when we feel the joy of life and we pray, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” When a baby is born, love is found, laughter runs riot, peace overcomes anguish, and then we know that God is with us making us into children and gifting us with divine joy. To have a God made life is to rejoice in light or dark, happy or sad, for God is with us, making us new creatures of greater love. Nouwen concludes:

I am not a young man anymore. Still, I may have quite a few years left to live. Can I live them gracefully and joyfully, continuing to profit from what I learned in my exile? I certainly desire to do so. During my months of anguish, I often wondered if God is real or just a product of my imagination. I now know that while I felt completely abandoned, God didn’t leave me alone. Many friends and family members have died during the past eight years, and my own death is not so far away. But I have heard the inner voice of love, deeper and stronger than ever. I want to keep trusting in that voice and be led by it beyond the boundaries of my short life, to where God is all in all.[3] ibid., 116-118

Remember then to always look for the tag in the collar; “Made by God” and be glad trusting in the inner voice of love.

Shalom and Amen.

[1] Henri J. M. Nouwen, The Inner Voice of Love: A Journey Through Anguish to Freedom, (Doubleday, New York, 1996), xiii

[2] ibid., 116-118

[3] ibid., 116-118