As our spiritual interest eventually directs us inwardly, we begin to understand that there are two conflicting influences at work within us. One is seeking to gain the world, and the other, our spiritual counterpart, is often drowned out in the hustle of keeping everything together.
In his parables, Jesus frequently uses pairs of opposites to make this point. He compares a house built on rock with one built on sand. He contrasts the far country with home, the prodigal son and his obedient brother. He speaks of evil treasures and good treasures, sheep and goats, wide and narrow gates, wheat and tares, foolish and wise virgins, light and darkness, water that quenches thirst permanently and water that quenches thirst temporarily. He speaks of those born of the flesh and those born of the spirit. We have statements on God and mammon, good fish and bad fish, rich man and poor man to name a few. In every case we can see these as examples of that part of us that struggles to gain the world (the self-image) and that spiritual center of power (the soul) that is calling us home.
Jesus isn’t contrasting good and bad things. He’s pointing to two levels of consciousness. One rises from the spiritual dimension, the house built on rock. The other has its origin in the senses-driven self-image, the house built on sand. In all of his illustrations, the favorable element refers to the spiritual, while the unfavorable refers to that part of us that interfaces with the material world.
Did Jesus denounce this material interface and encourage his followers to do the same? On one hand, we could present evidence that he did:
“And every one who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or lands, for my name’s sake, will receive a hundredfold, and inherit eternal life.“
And again, we have this incident:
“While he was still speaking to the people, behold, his mother and his brothers stood outside, asking to speak to him. But he replied to the man who told him, ‘Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?’ And stretching out his hand toward his disciples, he said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers! For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother, and sister, and mother.’”
His actions do not bear out that he shunned family and the world. Though scholars suggest his father must have passed sometime before he reached thirty, his mother was with him to the end. He often withdrew from the crowds for prayer and rest, but he always returned to his family and to his public life. According to John, he utters this prayer on behalf of his disciples:
“I do not pray that thou should take them out of the world, but that thou should keep them from the evil one.”
We need not think of the evil one as a horned devil wielding a pitchfork determined to steal our soul. Think of it as that blaring distraction that comes through the senses and hinders our quest for a first-hand experience of the Presence. Any proclamation denouncing the world and family is best understood as Jesus acknowledging the soul’s true source. If we are of the world, we are controlled by it. The soul, he is saying, is not of the world but of God. And if we are of God, we take our lead from our intuitive promptings. Our moral compass is set by our understanding of our spiritual status. But we understand and participate in our physical relationships, as did Jesus. Concerning his attitude toward parents, it’s clear that Jesus maintained his native religious values:
“For God commanded, ‘Honor your father and your mother,’ and, ‘He who speaks evil of father or mother, let him surely die.‘”
Our parents gave birth to our body, not to our soul. The soul has its source in God, which is what Jesus is saying here as well:
“And call no man your father on earth, for you have one Father, who is in heaven.”
This is not a put-down to fatherhood, but a reminder that the body, that physical being we see when we look into a mirror, is the offspring of our parents. The I that is the offspring of God, the soul, is the one seeing through the eyes of that physical image peering back at us.
One might think that if Jesus advocated shunning the world, he would denounce the institution of marriage, a key element in the perpetuation of the human species. From the following passage, it appears that he did not:
“Have you not read that he who made them from the beginning made them male and female, and said, ‘For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh’? So they are no longer two but one flesh. What therefore God has joined together, let not man put asunder.”
The mystical thread in this passage includes a pair of opposites, but in a different, more complimentary sort of way. Whether it was originally intended, we can understand it as a reference to the mystical union between the intellect (male) and the intuition (female).
The intellect is our interface with the material domain, that fact-gathering logic-based aspect of the mind that is essential to our material interaction. The intuition is our interface with the spiritual domain. This aspect gives us full exposure to our spiritual identity, our spiritual source, our “one Father who is in heaven.”
Before these two are joined in marriage, the intellect wanders the world gathering a storehouse of facts from which it builds its surface identity. The world of appearances is its father and mother. He discovers his intuitive side and the marriage takes place. This is the spiritual awakening of the individual. To say that God has joined these together is to say this is a natural and deeply felt experience, the individual waking to the truth of his or her being and to their full range of perceptual faculties. One who experiences this union cannot be argued away from it. No man (intellectual argument) can put it asunder.
This same dynamic is presented elsewhere in the Gospels. The third chapter of John opens with a conversation between Jesus and the Pharisee, Nicodemus. In these passages Jesus makes the distinction between two kinds of people, one who is born of the flesh (the strict intellectual) and one who is born of the spirit (the intuitive). One who is born of the flesh draws his or her identity from the external realm, the body and environment.
It is also difficult to think Jesus encouraged his followers to abandon their children.
“Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them; for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.”
On the physical level we are obviously related to people and we have strong emotional ties to them. Likewise, we have property that is ours to own and enjoy. But spiritually we do not draw our being from either our families or our possessions. Jesus’ invitation to leave them is a rather dramatic way of driving home this critical point.
This makes sense when you treat the you Jesus refers to as the soul, the true essence of the individual. You, the soul, have one Father, one Source, who is in heaven, the spiritual domain. Is this not true? Again, your parents gave birth to your body. But where did your soul come from? It rises from this boundless, omnipotent field of energy we call God.
Over the years I’ve encountered a number of people who were either criticized or denounced by their families. Their crime? They questioned their religious upbringing and began pursuing a different spiritual path. They were either constantly warned and criticized or shunned altogether. I know a few who were assured in no uncertain terms that they were going to Hell. I’m always a little saddened by this, though not surprised. I’m saddened because people can justify their hard religious attitudes toward their more open-minded family members with sayings like these:
“For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law … “
“Do not think that I have come to bring peace on earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.”
Doesn’t this strike you as a rather odd saying coming from one the world has accepted as Isaiah’s prince of peace? And yet to one who understands the mystical thread of his teachings, you know Jesus is speaking of an internal struggle. The teachings of the inner kingdom, wielding that double-edged sword of Truth, stir and break up our existing worldview.
The notions of an inner and outer kingdom are based on two completely different sets of principles. The first deals with ever-changing external conditions, signs to be observed, while the second deals with changes within one’s own consciousness. There is nothing peaceful about this internal battle between old and new ideas. For most, the notion of an inner kingdom is like new wine being introduced into the old wineskins of an established, senses-based consciousness.
“Neither is new wine put into old wineskins; if it is, the skins burst, and the wine is spilled, and the skins are destroyed; but new wine is put into fresh wineskins, and so both are preserved.”
For one who has spent years looking to the heavens for answers, the shift to the inner, intuitively acquired experience will cause a major stir. The sword is drawn every time you close your eyes and seek that inner stillness, the abode of the Lord of your being.
As we grow in understanding, we become sensitive to being drawn by worldly concerns away from our center of power. We share Paul’s dilemma: “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.”
The one and only thing that blocks us from seeing the spiritual dimension is our preoccupation with the external part of life.
The Gospel of Jesus in a Nutshell
We have four Gospels about Jesus, but do we have a Gospel of Jesus? For me, the Gospel of Jesus is summarized in the parable of the Prodigal Son. This story provides a superb summary of the entire problem of sin and salvation and I believe it serves quite well as the standard by which we can determine the principles found at the heart of his message.
Luke positions this parable and the two that precede it—the lost coin and the lost sheep—in the early Christian context of the wayward sinner, which is how it is typically considered today. Though we’re led to believe that Jesus taught a repent or else message, his original intent was probably more in line with the less abrasive, forgiving words and actions of the father of the wayward son. It’s been suggested that Luke was seeking to appease a remnant of John the Baptist’s following who would have been accustomed to John’s harsher tone.
An overview of this parable shows that it contains all three phases or acts of the Hero’s Journey: Act 1) the departure Act 2), the initiation Act 3) the return. In act 1 the son leaves his ordinary life to heed the call to adventure. Once out, he encounters severe trials that lead him to the brink of disaster. In act 2, his transformative moment occurs when he comes to himself. The arrogance of youth is replaced with humble compliance. In act 3 he returns home a changed character.
I think the perfect litmus test for Jesus’ gospel is found in how well his various saying align with the principles illustrated in this parable. The sinner is punished by his sins, his own, self-destructive choices, not for them. Notice that Jesus doesn’t have the father forgiving his son. In his clear display of unconditional love, the father never condemns the son. The only condemnation in the story comes from the older brother. This brother represents the demand for punishment found in so many mainstream religions who seem to think that the way to save a person from Hell is to scare it out of them.
I like to think of Truth as the omnipotence of God expressing as the spiritual essence of every individual. This is a perpetual, unstoppable action. We see this principle portrayed in the prodigal story. The father represents this perpetual state of self-expression in his love for both sons. Our wayward thinking does not change the ever-expanding, expressive activity of God in us. We may wander into the far country of despair, but because this relationship of oneness never changes, we can come to ourselves and begin our journey home, no bargaining necessary.
The younger son breaks the rules and his older brother insists on his being punished. Both suffer as the result of their respective transgressions. The father goes out to welcome his wayward son but he also goes out to console his angry son. Isn’t this an illustration of the unconditional love of God, a message worthy of being treated as the good news, the Gospel that Jesus intended to bring to the world?
Regardless of how far we stray from our inner connection with the omnipotence of God, our spiritual center of power, we may return with our soul fully intact. Yes, we will undoubtedly be lured repeatedly into that far country of suffering. But the omnipotence of God continues to express as our spiritual beacon even through our darkest, self-inflicted moments of pain. We can turn from God, but God can never turn from us. This, I believe, is the good news that Jesus intended to bring to the world.
[Note: This rather lengthy posting is an exploration of how the Gospel message may have come about, how it may differ from the intended message of Jesus and how his actual message (which I refer to as the mystical thread) may be understood. I hope you get something of value from this article. JDB]
Though Mark is placed second in the lineup of Gospels, it will be news to some that this was actually the first Gospel written. In composing his Gospel (around 65 AD), Mark probably drew from a collection of sayings and stories that had circulated orally among the early community of follows for over three decades. As one of the few who could read and write, this author apparently felt the need to consolidate and preserve this experience that had impacted his life and the lives of many others. With his precious collection of sayings and other anecdotal material, he began crafting the document we know today as the Gospel of Mark. 
A written account of the teachings and meaning of Jesus would have the effect of solidifying and imbuing the orally transmitted story with the stamp of authority. Rather than speculate on what someone had heard, followers could now point to an actual document that not only set the record straight, it was the record. A decade or so later, Matthew and Luke would use the bulk of Mark’s account and add material from another available list of sayings. To this they would each add their own collected material.
Matthew, Mark and Luke are referred to as the synoptic Gospels for they drew their material from a common source and represent a similar point of view. John, who appeared roughly a decade after Matthew and Luke, put forth an entirely different picture of Jesus. Known as the spiritualGospel, many scholars consider John’s portrayal of Jesus as being the least historically accurate. But it well earns its reputation as a spiritual gospel for the abundance of mystical gems that fill its pages. Though it also clearly bears the fingerprints of the developing church doctrine, this Gospel represents a strain of believers who were most certainly in sync with the defining principles of mysticism.
For me, the question is whether any of the synoptic writers grasped this deeper aspect of Jesus’ message. I think the answer is no, they did not. Like a scattering of jewels, fragments of the mystical element survive, not because the authors understood it, but because any one of these accumulated sayings were too precious to discard. In creating their narratives, the authors did their best to incorporate all of the collected sayings into their written works. All promote a specific, theological agenda. They were not trying to give an accurate historical or biographical account of the life and teachings of Jesus. Rather, they used the voice of Jesus to clarify and advance the teachings of the early church. When it comes to understanding the nature and purpose of the Gospels, this point cannot be over emphasized.
Let’s look at an example of how this may have worked. The Gospel of Thomas, not included in the New Testament, is a list of 114 sayings attributed to Jesus. Thomas contains no narrative, no story that gives these statements context. Though it was excluded from the New Testament, some scholars believe Thomas may predate the earliest Gospel sources, as it includes many sayings found in the canonized versions. Other sayings are strange and difficult to understand. Most begin with a simple, “Jesus said.”
Let’s suppose that an aging man, a scribe by profession, did not know Jesus personally but knew of him, knew of his tragic death and, most importantly, shared in the shattered hopes and dreams of so many who followed him. Was this not the one they had been waiting for, and will he not return again soon to complete the work? Our scribe clings to the hope from the promise Jesus himself made:
“There are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of man coming in his kingdom.“
Our aging scribe considers his own death imminent. Might he be among those fortunate enough to witness this glorious return and the long-awaited fulfillment of God’s promise? Each day brings the renewed hope that Jesus will reappear. The few believing priests and rabbis search the scriptures for clues that support this hope. Rumors circulate of sightings of the risen Jesus, but outside a small circle of believers, he has yet to present himself. There have been many false alarms, self-proclaimed teachers who have exploited this hope to increase their own followings. Some take these false prophets as a good sign that things are coming to a head:
“Children, it is the last hour; and as you have heard that antichrist is coming, so now many antichrists have come; therefore we know that it is the last hour.”
Still, time passes and life continues as usual with no indication that things are about to change. Some are questioning what Jesus meant. Others are even losing their faith.
While only about one percent of the population can read or write, a carefully guarded written collection of sayings attributed to Jesus slowly appears and grows over time. This collection is undoubtedly the work of professional scribes charged with the task of copying sacred texts. They have either written down what they were told Jesus said and did, or they have come into possession of previously written notes which they add to their collection. A traveling merchant may learn something from a distant village. The family of a scribe who dies turns over private notes he has kept, as their illiteracy renders these written treasures useless. People would know who in their village could read and write. An underground enterprise shrouded in secrecy begins to develop. Villagers know know where to safely report what they had hear.
For those who believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the value of anything concerning him, spoken or written, is immense.
Meanwhile, a growing faction of doctors of the law search the scriptures for messianic references and spend long hours debating how these may apply to what they know of Jesus. Some are incredulous, others are open to the possibility that Jesus may indeed have been the Messiah. They piece together those clues that support their growing acceptance. Some begin to encourage the readers in synagogue to include, along with readings from the Torah, their acquired sayings of Jesus. The Jewish community is sharply divided on whether he was indeed the Messiah.
The believers focus on those scriptural prophesies that support their belief that Jesus was the one they have been waiting for. Others have copied and circulated these sayings which not only remind listeners of what Jesus said, but they give the sense of tangible evidence that Jesus was a real person who walked among people and gave hope that their struggles with life would soon end.
This is all good as far as it goes. But a new generation is beginning to raise different questions. They are losing faith that Jesus was anything more than just another dreamer full of big ideas. Where is the evidence that he changed anything? The Jews still suffer under Roman oppression and life for the average person has become no easier. Something more is needed, something that brings new life to these sayings that many now know by heart.
Our aging scribe is also asking questions. What was Jesus doing when he uttered these words? What were the circumstances? What prompted him to say these things? Some of these sayings appear to be responses to questions raised by his inner circle of followers. Others seem to have been prompted by arguments from religious teachers. Still others seem to come from situations that would likely have occurred while simply walking through the market, attending synagogue, or sitting by the lakeside in the company of friends.
This scribe knows how everyone loves a good story. It occurs to him that if these sayings were couched in story form, they might take on new life by making them more real and meaningful. Because he has had the good fortune of learning to read and write, he can imagine doing something more than simply copying and passing on the sayings of Jesus. He is growing old and his body is beginning to fail. But his eyes are good and his mind is clear. It occurs to him that he could pass on these sayings using the power of the story.
Our aging scribe, charged with overwhelming enthusiasm for his growing sense of mission, goes to work in guarded secrecy. He wants no one to know that he is the author but, more importantly, he wants to keep his work free of the influence of his own personality. In his spare time he works on this project, often into the early morning hours. Days turn to months and months to years. Every moment of his life his growing story plays out in the secrecy of his own mind. Here, in this world of his, unknown to even those closest to him, the voice of Jesus becomes so real our scribe feels as if he knows him.
Though there are many periods when he feels confident that his work will be well received, there are other times when he fears his work will be rejected. He questions his own audacity to think he is worthy of such a task. As he works, he wavers between these two states. Yet he persists. When his story is finally finished, his health is rapidly failing. The long nights of working in dim light have taken their toll on his vision. Though the dream of finishing his story is realized, he is too weak to find the way to bring it to the attention of fellow believers. And one day, his heart fails and he takes his final breath. His secret dies with him.
His family, unable to read, is unsure what to do with his collection of written works. They pass them to another old friend, a fellow scribe that promises to sort through it all. But this man too dies, and his own collection of written works is passed to yet another who puts them aside to address commissioned projects that must be finished.
In time, the story is discovered, and it is electrifying. No one has ever seen such an account of the life of Jesus. Who wrote it? Where did it come from? No one can tell. The author has left no signature, no explanation of any kind. This document feels important, even urgent. It contains all the familiar sayings of Jesus and much more. This scribe who discovers it can barely contain his excitement.
He passes a copy to the local reader who shares it with the secret gathering of followers of the Way. Spellbound, they want to hear it again and again. Word travels fast and soon neighboring villages are commissioning copies. It’s a good time to be a scribe.
Now, a question that must be asked is this: How much influence would our scribe have had over the intended meaning of Jesus’ words? As the author, he would have had a great deal of influence. Today we see multiple biographers tell the story of a single figure. One will portray their subject, Gandhi for example, as a great symbol of independence while another might portray him as little more than a political dissident. It can be difficult to see that they are describing the same person.
It’s important to understand that our scribe was not a biographer who was interested in presenting an accurate historical account of the life of Jesus. He was a self-appointed evangelist whose goal was to bring clarity to the growing theological implications attached to Jesus. The actual “voice” of Jesus was transformed from his own and given to the role of spokesman for the early church. We do not have a Gospel according to Jesus himself. We have Gospels according to advocates of a newly formed religious movement we know today as Christianity.
The problem with the advent of the gospel is that now we have two messages. There’s the original sayings of Jesus, with his own intended meaning, and there’s the message that our scribe wishes to impress upon his intended audience. The irony is that it is the teaching of the scribe, using the voice of Jesus, that ultimately carries the day. Those who hear the public reading of this work assume they are getting the message of Jesus exactly as he intended. So why are there four gospels rather than just one? And why does Paul’s presentation of Jesus stand even further apart? And why does it appear that the author of Luke feels compelled to set the record straight?
“Inasmuch as many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the things which have been accomplished among us, just as they were delivered to us by those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word, it seemed good to me also, having followed all things closely for some time past, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent The-oph’ilus, that you may know the truth concerning the things of which you have been informed” (Luke 1:1-4).
We have the pool of sayings attributed to Jesus, and we have each of these author’s message crafted to use these sayings to advance the developing narrative of the early church, a narrative, by the way, that would in all likelihood have been foreign to Jesus.
All the Gospel writers were confronted with similar problems, though the authors of Matthew and Luke would have had fewer emotional barriers to overcome. The author of Mark blazed the trail for further gospels to reach the public. The utilization of the material at each writer’s disposal required many interpretive and contextual judgment calls. And since they wanted to leave nothing out, they did their best to include everything, whether or not they grasped its more mystical significance.
I can easily imagine that this is how the mystical thread was inadvertently, even haphazardly preserved, unacknowledged and lacking any type of systematic form. We’re left to pluck this thread from the writer’s works whose otherwise clear intent was to represent Jesus as the harbinger of a very observable kingdom, a divinely sanctioned social structure poised to materialize at any moment.
Evidence that he was not the forerunner to this anticipated kingdom is seen in the obvious fact that over two thousand years have passed and he has not returned. Yet the prevailing mainstream Christian hope is based on the perpetuation of the belief in his return. Though millions await, I am reminded of another bit of wisdom from the Gospel of Thomas:
“He said, ‘Lord, there are many around the drinking trough, but there is nothing in the well.’”
The living water we seek, the kingdom of God, is depicted, not in the empty trough of creed, dogma and eschatological anticipation, but in the mystical thread embedded throughout the sayings of Jesus. The kingdom does not appear as signs to be observed but from within the silent depths of the spiritually awakened individual.
What is this mystical thread and how do we recognize it? To address this question it will be helpful to stop trying to discern whether a given passage is the writer lobbying for the church or something Jesus actually said. An inspired passage has merit regardless of its origin.
We must also admit that we cannot know with certainty what Jesus intended to say, as we cannot possibly know what was in his mind. For some, this will be a hard pill to swallow. But the fact is, the gospel accounts reveal much more about the intentions and thought processes of each author than they do of Jesus. These works represent their author’s case for Jesus as they understood him. The voice of Jesus himself remains silent.
The most we can do is look for those sayings that align with the defining principles of mysticism. Is the intention of the saying directed to the inner process of experiencing God first-hand and allowing further expression from our spiritual center? Does it refer to unity between God and the individual? Does it advocate the all-important need to become conscious of our indwelling, eternal source of life, love, power and intelligence?
It is here that we may shed light on one of Jesus’ more cryptic sayings.
“Whoever has will be given more; whoever does not have, even what they have will be taken from them.”
Whoever perceives the mystical thread will be given more. He or she will recognize those gems of truth when they read or hear them. Those who do not grasp this way are left waiting at the empty trough, steeped in tradition and clinging to the hope of a brighter future promised by religious dogma and creed. In contrast, the mystical thread is always tied to the understanding of God as our indwelling Source. Its main thrust encourages the individual to become consciously aligned with this Source. In my book, The Complete Soul, I point out that there are no natural barriers between God and the individual soul.
The human mind is designed to live in conscious union with God. This is our natural condition. Most people live as if they are separate from God. This is the normal condition. Most religions are built upon the belief that we are separate from God. In whatever way God is perceived – as a mighty old man in the sky or as a great force of nature – God is treated as something independent of the human experience. Religion, with its institutions and texts, present themselves as a bridge (often the only bridge) between God and man. The common belief is that we join God at the death of the body.
The natural world is a direct expression of God. As such, no aspect of nature perceives itself as something separate from its spiritual source. Only the human being, with our unique faculty of imagination, can create the perception that God is one thing and we are another. This perceptual creation, normal as it is, is not natural. It is a self-imposed belief that is rooted in surface, senses-based perceptions rather than in spiritual reality. Our natural state is conscious union with God.
The belief in separation from God has put the world on the lookout for the advent of an observable kingdom. The mainstream Christian insists Jesus’ reference to the kingdom in our midst is a reference to the spread of a movement that would, like a tiny mustard seed, begin small but eventually grow into a worldwide religion. The temptation to hold such a view is indeed prompted by precedent, as all organized religious movements develop in this way. But then we hear Jesus saying, “My kingship is not of this world.” Or you’ll find other statements that are equally contradicting:
“When they persecute you in one town, flee to the next; for truly, I say to you, you will not have gone through all the towns of Israel, before the Son of man comes.”
In another place we read,
… there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of man coming in his kingdom.
Obviously this time has long passed. The disciples have tasted death. Yet the Son of man has yet to come with his kingdom. Will we continue to gaze into the sky and to a future date when this kingdom will appear, or will we consider the possibility that Jesus was referring to a present but unrecognized dimension that requires a different, more intuitive way of seeing? This possibility begins small, an intriguing curiosity, but if pursued it grows into the very basis of our new understanding of a deeper, spiritual reality. We transform from the proverbial human being having a spiritual experience to the spiritual being having a human experience.
This new way of seeing is clearly connected to the rebirth that Jesus describes to Nicodemus:
“Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again.”
As I said, to see this kingdom requires a new kind of vision. It begins as an inner knowing, a small revelation that grows into something that transforms our entire consciousness. To find it, we must enter our inner closet, shut the door to the outside world, and open our heart in receptive silence. In other words, this kingdom is a subjective experience that is intuitively rather than intellectually apprehended. We see it with the inner eye rather than the physical eye.
We’ve all heard of the born-again Christian who thinks of this new birth as occurring in one who “turns from sin and with his or her whole heart trusts in Christ as personal Savior and Lord.” But the context of this well-known encounter between Nicodemus and Jesus gives no indication that this was the intended meaning. Jesus explains to Nicodemus that “that which is born of flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.” The new birth is a transition from that which is born of the flesh to that which is born of the Spirit. One cannot see the kingdom of God, he says, unless they experience this new birth.
It’s no coincidence that we see this same idea expressed from a world away in the Hindu Upanishads: Thou canst not behold Me with thy two outer eyes, I have given thee an eye divine.”
That in us which is born of the flesh is our senses-based, body-oriented self-image, the core identity most of us use to navigate through life. We can refer to this surface self as the personality, the ego, or as Paul put it, living “in the passions of our flesh, following the desires of body and mind.” In contrast, that which is born of the Spirit is that individualized expression of God we know as the soul. We come to know the soul, not through thy two outer eyes, but through our intuitive faculty, the eye divine.
“But when you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”
We understand this instruction as closing the door of the senses, a quiet listening or feeling our way into the innermost stirrings of Spirit. Again, this is not an intellectual pursuit but an intuitive activity in which we attune to the quiet radiance emanating from our spiritual center.
Though this new birth can occur in an instant, it occurs in most as a gradual awakening. This is more of a blessing than we might think. A mind that is suddenly opened to the inner presence can be so overwhelmed by the soul’s vastness as to find it difficult to function. You recall that Paul’s instant illumination blinded him for three days. I’m not suggesting there is a possibility that spiritual illumination will literally blind us. Instant exposure to the full light of the soul can, however, leave us blindly confused. The world we assumed was so real is suddenly understood as but the surface layer of a profoundly deeper reality. Our values are brought into question. The stabilizing references we once relied upon no longer carry the same weight of authority.
In addition, the people in our lives know us by the values and interests we share through our words and actions. When our values change, our words and actions follow. What we pursued with enthusiasm no longer appeals to us. Others are slow and sometimes unwilling to accept the changes they see. The new birth, though proclaimed from many a rooftop, is not widely understood. It’s not about people growing apart due to changing interests. It’s about one person discovering and pursuing an inner path that they alone must walk.
We see this same dynamic in many who have the near-death experience (NDE). Without warning they are exposed to a level of reality that both inspires and confuses. Researchers say it may take seven years to incorporate the revelations from this profound event into their normal life. Few, in fact, return to their normal life, at least as it includes their self-perception. Relationships often suffer. In a matter of minutes, in the twinkling of an eye, their understanding of themselves is forever changed. They cross a point of no return, often without the support or understanding of family and friends.
The gradual awakening usually begins as persistent curiosity or perhaps as a gnawing unrest. Science and plain logic may challenge our religious beliefs causing us to question the things we’ve been taught. Some develop a fascination with the psychic realm. As a youth, I remember becoming fascinated with the Rosicrucian teaching on astral projection. During those awkward teen years, seeking distance from a body ravaged by the hormonal eruptions of puberty had a distinct appeal. I also responded to the positive thinking of Norman Vincent Peale. The psychic Jean Dixon was an intriguing curiosity and Edgar Cayce stirred my imagination.
It was Dr. H. Emilie Cady, however, who brought it all together for me. Her Lessons in Truth became the Rosetta Stone that helped bring to the surface the clearest path to tangible revelations. Her masterful use of common Christian terminology—reinterpreted—bridged the gap between my mainstream Christian understanding and the spiritual bedrock upon which the heart of every spiritual teaching rests. I think we each have a portal of entry that usually takes the form of a teacher. I’m not suggesting here that Cady or the Unity Movement might be suited for you. I’m simply pointing out that Cady was an important spiritual catalyst for me.
In this progression, one teacher will lead to others which will in turn lead to a growing library of books compatible with our expanding understanding. I drew and continue to draw much inspiration and guidance from people like Emma Curtis Hopkins, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Charles and Myrtle Fillmore, Emilie Cady, Phineas Quimby, Thomas Troward, Joel Goldsmith, and Evelyn Underhill, to name a few. The time comes when we realize we’re hearing and reading nothing new. Like a water-filled sponge, we become saturated with the ideas and spiritual advice of others. It is then that we begin to lay down the books and ease into the deeper waters of our own first-hand relationship with God, the spiritual source of our being.
This is a slow leap of faith and our attempts to still the busy mind and enter the inner sanctum of the soul are often thwarted by long periods of wandering and feelings of a complete spiritual disconnect. This has been described as the dark night of the soul. We’ve pushed off from a familiar shore and drifted with not even a distant shore in sight. Yet we find needed encouragement from that one who has gone before us:
“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.”
The opening of this door is the new birth. When the half-gods go, Emerson wrote, the gods arrive. The eye divine opens. And though we may squint in its brightness, we now see the kingdom of the Father…spread out upon the earth, as it has always been. This is not merely a shift in ideas, it is a transformation of consciousness, a renewal of the mind, a new birth. Our spiritual core, the soul, is brought into our field of awareness as the babe of living energy we know as the true basis of our very being.
How do we know this is true? Emilie Cady has a great response to this question:
“You will know just as you know that you are alive. All the argument in the world to convince you against Truth that comes to you through direct revelation will fall flat and harmless at your side. And the Truth that you know, not simply believe, you can use to help others. That which comes forth through your spirit will reach the very innermost spirit of him to whom you speak.”
 The earliest copies of the Gospels were unnamed. The names were assigned later based on information found within the Gospels themselves. For convenience, I’ll refer to each of the Gospels as we know them today.
 Scholars consider 13:1-37 (the Little Apocalypse) and 16:9-20 (appearances after crucifixion) as later additions to Mark’s account.
 A theoretical list of saying known as the Q Source, material common to Matthew and Luke.
 M: material specific to Matthew. L: material specific to Luke.
“In returning and rest you shall be saved;in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.” Isaiah 30:15
Everyone has moments of uncertainty, of trial, of self doubt, and even despair. In these moments we seek help from all kinds of sources: books, counselors, ministers, doctors, friends, or family members. Any one of these may pass on some level of assurance that things are going to work out, that harmony will be restored in our body or in our affairs. With this bit of assurance, we rest a little better, regain some of our optimism, and turn our attention to more creative endeavors.
It is a freeing thought to realize that the strength we seem to draw from others is really a process of opening our minds to our own deeper resource. In consciously returning to this inner resource we find the salvation we seek. In quietness and trust in this larger context of life, the flame of new strength is kindled.
When we are consumed with a problem, we have simply relegated our attention to one miniscule aspect of our being. Our entire universe revolves around our little problem. We weigh everything against it, including our ability to be happy and productive with our life.
There is nothing that can sever your connection with your unsounded essence, that limitless source of energy and inspiration that will lift you out of even the apparently tightest corners. Regardless of how far you feel you have strayed from your Source, it is still present and will still flood your being with the strength and assurance you need to move beyond this current stretch of uncertainty.
Begin now to take the healing advice found in Isaiah’s words. Feel the “rest” of letting go your frantic search for answers. Be still and trust that the answers you need are now forthcoming. Turn from the apparent adversity and let new strength and courage arise from the core of your being.
All that you seek is always with you. Embrace it now, in the quiet.
As we have seen, prayer is a two-fold activity. There is a releasing and affirming aspect. The seed lets go of its seed identity (release) before it grows (affirms) into the plant. When we pray, we become willing to release the energy we are giving to one thing – usually a negative appearance – so we may fully pour it into another.
The prospering prayer is a prayer intended to free us from some restriction. For the seed, prosperity is the shedding of the seed-self so that further growth and fruition may occur. We are following this same principle of expansion that we see in operation throughout the natural world.
Think about this. You desire greater freedom because at the spiritual level you are already free. Conditions that restrict the soul’s natural expression, whether they are financial, health-related, or grounded in our self-perception, are really pockets of energy that must be broken up and released. When we understand this, we can focus our prayer work in the most effective direction. This rarely has to do with the actual condition. The condition is simply calling our attention to the area in need of work.
Remember that Jesus said whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it and it will be yours. Believing you have received changes the way you utilize your energy. Believing you have not received sets up a negative charge. Believing you have received sets up a positive charge. You may say, “Trying to believe I have received something I don’t have is a lie. How can I believe a lie?” We are dealing with spiritual principle here. The material thing or condition is the effect you are after. Prayer sets up the cause that produces the desired effect, or something better.
Pay attention to the negative energy you are giving to your situation. Make a conscious effort to release this. Affirm the truth, the greater freedom that you want to experience. That is, allow yourself to experience this freedom. How would I feel if this issue was resolved? Let yourself experience the joy and freedom associated with your answer. Hold to this and take any action you’re prompted to take until your desired condition becomes your reality.
Love has been called, the great attractor, and for good reason. We are all drawn to loving acts and words of our friends and family, and to the unconditional acceptance of our pets. Love nurtures us, assures us, comforts us in our strongest moments, and in our times of uncertainty. This is, no doubt, why John concluded that God is love, the most desirable, all-encompassing quality that we can experience.
Yet love is not only a great attractor, it is also a great dissolver. Love draws greater good, but it also dissolves attitudes, perceptions, relationships and conditions that keep more favorable situations from developing in our lives.
Sometimes we are not aware of the things that need to dissolve, and so we cling to them as if their dissolution is a threat to our well-being. The prayer of love is a conscious recognition and willingness to let love enhance our strengths and dissolve our weaknesses. Are we prepared to allow love to dissolve a weakness, even when we consider it a strength? Fear, often interpreted as a signal that it’s time to fight, can also be seen as a signal that it’s time to move beyond some self-defeating aspect of our self-image.
Love may appear to be a double-edged sword that can heal or wound. But when love is left to do its perfect work, the results are always in our favor. Love clears the way for us to move past self-restricting attitudes or behaviors that keep us struggling in the constraints of limitation.
Affirm, Divine Love is doing Its perfect work in me now. Feel God as a loving, guiding, comforting presence. Open your mind and heart to possibilities of growth in every area of your being, conscious and unconscious. See love pouring into every aspect of your life, to balance, heal, harmonize and dissolve those things that stand in the way of your greater good. Love is working on your behalf, so surrender to love’s perfect work in absolute trust that those things which fall away need to do so, and those new, inspired ideas that come to you have done so by divine appointment.
I now have 55 cards (11 collections) posted on my Etsy store, which you can view at http://flyinginspiration.etsy.com. I’m currently in the process of setting up another shop on Amazon’s Handmade, a relatively new feature devoted to making available the work of individual artists.
Here is part of the description you see on Etsy:
“Original photography combined with computer graphics give these greeting cards the look of fine art. The imagery and the messages may inspire the recipient to collect and perhaps frame them for their beauty and for their encouraging words. You can see the interior part of the message as you scroll through the samples.
Think of these messages as appropriate for special occasions, though not in the conventional sense. Perhaps your friend or loved one is celebrating a personal achievement. Or maybe they are struggling with a challenge that seems beyond their capacity to overcome. As you carefully consider their unique situation, you are sure to find an affirmative message of encouragement that speaks directly to them, adding support to your own carefully chosen words.”
One of our fundamental teachings is that God is the source of our supply. We may think of God as owning a great warehouse full of goods and when orders are put in, they’re fulfilled and sent out. There are times, of course, when it seems as if our request has been placed on back order, or that our credit has been compromised.
Jesus said that God is Spirit and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and in truth. God does not actually give us things. God gives us ideas and inspiration. We have the wonderful ability to open our minds to the very essence of God, to be filled with the life, love, power and intelligence that bring about all we see and all we do not see. We have a beautiful faculty of imagination that enables us to envision specific things and conditions that are appealing to us. We can tap into the energy of zeal that enables us to do the things necessary to bring about the life we envision. We have the ability to love what we do and create blessings that touch the lives of others.
The prayer of purpose is the one that sees clearly a desired objective, that releases the negative doubts and fears that stand in our way, that stimulates the faith to hold fast and to move forward when we are called to act in ways that further our heart-felt aspirations.
George Eliot made the great observation that God “could not make Antonio Stradivarius’s violins without Antonio.” God cannot make the world you know is possible without you to bring it forth. Think of yourself as the translator of the unseen to the visible. The life you desire is not a thing that is either given or withheld but a thing you agree to help produce.
The prayer that prospers is one that affirms that which you desire is yours now and your acceptance of this truth opens the mental and emotional doors through which your good may come. Do not be discouraged if the manifestation seems slow. Hold fast to your desire, be willing to work and live with the peace of knowing your good is coming forth now!
Having been raised in a rural community, I have felt since childhood that the natural world is the manifestation of an underlying, spiritual reality. The patterns, the color, the behavior we see in living creatures points to a deeper activity on a grand scale. I’m reminded of Walt Whitman’s piece, “A Child Said, What Is Grass.” The poet muses over possible answers to the question, including this one:
“Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped, Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?”
For me, the child’s question of “Whose?” has a clear answer. As I contemplate the creatures or the scenery of the natural world, I do not see a random act, but an intentional expression of a higher intelligence with its owner’s signature stamped in every corner.
For years I have had an interest in photographing birds. Unfortunately, the cost of good camera gear and film development made it a difficult hobby to pursue. Birds do not intentionally pose for portraits and most shots are not worth keeping, so it gets expensive very quickly. With today’s digital technology, if you don’t like a photo, you simply delete it.
As one who has devoted his life to the study and teaching of spiritual principles, I’m always looking for ways to share with others ideas that are meaningful to me. I’ve done this through speaking, writing and music. Now I’m adding a fourth avenue of expression: photography. It occurred to me that the greeting card would be an excellent way to share this interest. An inspiring thought combined with a beautiful image is a simple but powerful and non-intrusive way of boosting the spirit of a friend or loved one.
Through the magic of digital photography and computer graphics, I have developed a unique series of greeting cards that allow me to share thoughts and imagery I believe will inspire others in meaningful ways. Like music, images from nature have a universal appeal that moves us at deep levels. The messages I’ve included carry a positive thought that should appeal to anyone. These affirmative statements are designed to let your friend or loved one know you are thinking of them in a meaningful way.
Today’s online technology has allowed me to set up a store, Flying Inspiration, to make these cards available for viewing and for purchase. I’d love to have you visit and see how this site so beautifully displays each card. Click on any set and scroll through it. Currently there are ten sets with five, 5 x 7 cards (envelopes included) in each collection. I would love to get your feedback on this latest project. Those who have seen this work have been very enthusiastic in their support for it.
Every aspect of nature “bears the owner’s name someway in the corners.” When we ask, “Whose?” our eyes may be opened in that instant, and I’m finding that’s a great time to have a camera.