In the Present

I am lying on the fountain at City Hall. I hear the sound of birds twittering in nearby trees. The sound of car motors. A young child— a girl, I believe— calls out from somewhere outside City Hall. Playing, perhaps. A helicopter flies overhead. Things are being moved elsewhere in City Hall. The sky is blue. Thin, soft clouds everywhere. Wispy. I can feel the heat of the Sun on my back. Footsteps, people walking across the sand, talking. A truck backs up somewhere. This is Pasadena. This is home. Sounds of construction. Birds and machines; nature meets technology. Together. As one. Symbiotic. My hand is shaking a bit, as it often does. The fountain is off. City Hall is beautiful. Majestic. It is the triumph of man, but not over nature: it is with nature. The great building is surrounded by trees and bushes and twittering birds. And the artwork, the architecture, is full of nature. The bell sings. A stone building. Imageso flions, nature's powerful beasts, of plants and fruits and life. Perhaps stone is not living, but there is life in this building. It lives. Stone does live. It is peaceful here, quiet, but it is life. The power of peace overwhelms, envelopes. Inescapable. God is in this stone building, this still fountain.

Why am I doing this? Why am I here? What has drawn me to this foolish belief? Why do I seek God? I am at a prayer day retreat because it is part of my class, a Confirmation class, but why do I seek to confirm? Because I have to in order to become a priest? Why do I want to become a priest? Is not Christianity "dying"? What has led me to this foolish, nonsensical, irrational, utterly ridiculous idea that not only is there a God, but that God loves me and everyone else too and that I need to be close to God? Am I delusional? This is completely illogical, and yet I believe. Is it desperation? Do I simply believe because not believing would wreck me? I am in love with God. Love cannot be rational, cannot conform to simplistic truths. It is instinctive. It is beyond our physical world. Why am I so desperate for logic? I am in love with God, and God loves me. Is not this enough?

These are the words I wrote during an hour of prayer in the midst of what was called a "Prayer Day Retreat." Our priest talked to us about prayer before we were sent off to pray on our own, and one of the things she said was that prayer should, in her opinion, bring us to the present. So I laid down outside, and just took in the present moment. I let all of the clutter of past and future leave my mind and just focused on that very instant. And it was beautiful. I was struck by the contrast between how foolish and unrealistic prayer and faith seem and how the very powerful that foolish act was in bringing me peace.

I served as a Lay Eucharistic Minister (which basically means someone who isn't a priest giving the already-blessed-bread/wine to others) during the Eucharist we had at the end of the retreat, and someone came up to me after and told me that I had served "well" (though I'm not sure how you could really "screw up" holding a cup) and should "look into that," implying serving within the church, probably as a priest. It struck me. Hard. A stranger who had no way of knowing I'd even thought of being a priest suggested it based simply on how I served wine to "the people." My mind was blown and still is. I keep looking for something to come along, screaming, "STOP!!! Don't become a priest!!! Turn back now!!!" but little moments like that keep happening. Leading prayer, reading the lessons, serving the wine— all these things strike something deep within me that says, "Yes! This is it! More! More!! Let's do it again!!" and result in comments from others who know nothing of my discernment (often, who I've never even met!) praising how well I served.

"The place God calls you to is the place where your great gladness and the world's deep hunger meet." —Frederick Buechner. My rector spoke about this very meeting place on Vocation Sunday (just a few weeks ago), and as moments like today's slowly add up, I am beginning to suspect that God is indeed calling me to serve as a priest. Who knows though? Only time will tell. For now, I must live in the present.