“The day of my spiritual awakening was the day I saw
and knew I saw all things in God and God in all things.”
— Mechtild of Magdeburg

In preparation for Sunday’s worship, I have been searching through several books of writings by Christian mystics. Each time I come upon the words of these who have tried to express in words their deep experience of the Holy, I find myself once again flooded with humility. So many of those we now speak of as mystics lived at times when it must have been truly dangerous to speak many of the things they did. While many men fall into this category, an equal number are women, also a humbling and amazing fact.

What does it mean to be a mystic? Most definitions point toward someone who has great intuition that leads to a spiritual truth, one that allows a communion with God, which is often brought about by meditation or deep contemplation. From that definition it might seem as if there are few, if any, mystics among us these days. But I don’t believe that is the case.

In the first place, many children are mystics. Have you taken a walk with a child lately? Have you watched them spend time with, say, an ant hill? Squatting next to a child and an ant hill can make a mystic out of the most logical person. The questions they ask, the insights they have could fill a hundred books. If you want to have a mystical experience invite a child to accompany you on a walk in a park or in the woods. Let them set the pace, stopping at every interesting stone, feather, tree, flower, animal print. Children are the first teachers that God is present in all things. Each of us were teachers once too, but along the way we may have forgotten to stop, to look, to listen, to know the Holy One’s movement in the every day acts of our living.

Spring is a particularly good time to hone one’s mystic skills. Walking out on any given morning, it becomes nearly impossible to miss God showing up everywhere. The pink and drooping bleeding hearts can offer infinite wisdom about fleeting beauty. The rich, piercing fragrance of lilies-of-the-valley can settle on our spirits and stir us to memories of times we were held close by perfumed, fleshy, grandmother arms. The strong and powerful push of hostas once more making an entrance into the world teach us of an abiding presence and endurance which holds us through cold,frozen even difficult times.

Mechtild of Magdeburg was a medieval mystic who lived in Germany in the 13th century. Her mystical experiences of God were described in her book The Flowing Light of Divinity. She was often known to be critical of church authorities and doctrines and the ways in which the church often tried to reign in the Sacred. Instead she described her encounters of the Divine in all things and how all things are at the same time held in the Divine. It is fascinating to me that she was allowed to live and write and speak. After her death, for more than four hundred years her writings were suppressed. But over the last years her words, like so many mystics’, have made their way into wider circles. Perhaps they are the very words we need for the times I which we live.

Have you had an encounter with the Holy recently? Have you shared it with anyone? Have you spent time looking at an ant hill or a bird’s nest or the irises that are waiting for just enough sunshine to bloom? We were each born as mystics, I believe. The experience of the Sacred is just a breath away. If we take our time, honor the gift of the moment, and remember to act like a child.

Have a blessed weekend………