Spiritual Direction - 1

Lack of direction

It’s been a long time now that I wanted to write something about spiritual direction.

I think to a degree I procrastinated because in doing so I have to tell something about myself. And that’s not always easy. It also has to be done in quick broad strokes in order not to bore you with too much detail. That always carries with it the danger of generalisations and simplifications. I’ll try my utmost to avoid that.

I came to spiritual direction via a long detour.

I grew up during the years of Apartheid in a Protestant tradition. A deep mistrust in anything Catholic manifested itself in the warning against Die Roomse Gevaar (The Roman Catholic Danger), which also became part of my frame of reference.

When I decided at a very young age to become a minister of religion, it was within that context. Realising from the outset of my studies that I wanted to support and help people on a deep personal level, Counselling remained my main subject throughout the course. My aim with the subsequent honours in Psychology and masters in Theology was to equip myself in this helping profession to the best of my ability. It also set the tone when I entered ministry.

However, I had to cope with a growing dilemma ever since my years at university. I knew what I wanted to do, but somehow the methods and context in which I applied it left me feeling empty and unsatisfied. I wanted to go deeper in the counselling sessions with people, ground it somehow, give them more than solutions and support for particular problems. And I found it difficult to relate with the charismatic elements that became more dominant in the church.

What made things even more complicated was the fact that my love for manual labour and raw material like soil, wood and steel surfaced to such an extent that I decided in the end to resign from ministry to be on the farm and work in the steel and wood workshop.

The issues that I struggled with weren’t those that usually landed on the agenda of the church. I did not know it then, but these were matters of my soul. “Soul” not in religious terms of “is everything right with your soul?” or “our Christian duty is the saving of souls”. “Soul” more in terms of a life giving force, the deep heart of matter and everything alive, passion, the place where you are touched and stirred beyond words or description. There weren’t any guides in these matters. At least not known to me at that stage.

It was amidst those years of searching and confusion that I wrote in my journal:

Lake spirituality

I feel very lonely in ministry. I am looking for silence, peace, beauty, harmony, balance. I deeply long to express how I experience God in my ordinary day-to-day living.

To use an image – God is like a huge lake with deep calm waters.

On this lake I row early in the morning, just as the mist is clearing, in a rowing-boat that I built myself. It is peaceful and quiet with only the sounds of an early morning bird once in a while and my oars dipping into the water to be heard. I want to have a look at the coot chicks starting to hatch close to one of the banks of the lake. And there is grace everywhere.

But then one day a group of men in 4 x 4’s arrive at the one side of the lake. They have huge maps and charts that they spread open on the bonnets of their vehicles. Together they bend over the maps, look up, point in different directions. They are dressed in the latest fashion with cell phones that ring often.

Not long after this the lake starts to feel the plans on the maps. Huge construction vehicles start excavating the site of a modern waterfront development and recreation complex. The developers envisage music shows, skiing competitions, powerboat races and synchronised fountains. They want to bring life to the area.

And all I wanted to do was to look at the coots...

Gradually however, I made some discoveries and was guided into a ministry where I finally found what I was looking for. I came across authors who wrote about the matters that spoke to me on a very deep level and I learnt that there is such a discipline as Spiritual Direction. I became familiar with Ignatian spirituality as a more immediate and the contemplative tradition as a wider context. This was a spirituality where silence, meditation and the holiness of the ordinary were key elements.

I have a Catholic spiritual director that I’ve been going to for close on 10 years now. A few years ago I became a spiritual director myself by completing the Advanced Training in Spiritual Direction at the Jesuit Institute in Johannesburg. My own ministry in spiritual direction is supported and fed by my work in wood and metal, our involvement in art, the stimulating of people’s creativity, a life lived close to nature and its rhythms and through writing.

The fact that I found nourishment with the “enemy” might seem strange. However, in this spirituality where paradox and the unexpected abound, it seems as natural as the power of silence.

George