Mysticism — Weaving Understanding Part II
Mysticism — Weaving Understanding — Part II
Part I introduced the need to communicate a mystical experience to others. The first way was to tie the explanation to one of the five senses.
Another way to get someone into the Mystical frame of mind is getting a question answered by a greater power. Everyone has, at one time or another, asked something greater than themselves for an answer. By tying it to a common experience, it makes the story more relevant to the listener.
There was a time in fourth grade when I first went to my favorite place in the entire world: a summer camp called Camp Chrysalis. It is an intentional Christian community within a typical summer camping environment. The great difference between this place and other camps was that the staff, at least most of them, were trying to bring Christian teachings, values, behavior to us campers. They did so through having fun with us, yes; but also through doing Bible Studies, prayers, devotions, worships, and through letting us see their faith played out on a day by day basis. Remarkable things start happening when such people are gathered.
As I said in Part I, I was a kid who always sensed the presence of God. There was no time that I could not feel it. In this camp, however, it grew stronger. I started asking the questions of God that, at some point, most people start asking.
“What am I here for?”
“Why did you make me as you did?”
“Could you show yourself?”
“I believe in prayer, but I need reassurance that you do answer them.”
In fact, most of these questions happened at the same time.
I had a habit of sneaking out of the cabins at night and going to the chapel. I was not the only one who sneaked out. Several of my friends went fishing down by the creek at 1 or 2am. I just left shortly after them.
I spent time in the chapel because I felt God’s presence more strongly there than any other place. In fact, to this day, the chapel at Chrysalis is still a powerful focal point for my perceptions of God.
In the chapel that night, I noticed there was no sound whatsoever. No wind. Even the weathervane spinning at the top of the roof was still. My footfalls sounded overly loud when I went in. I laid down on one of the long churn pew type benches and stared up at the darkness of the ceiling.
That is when I started going through my mind what I really wanted from this God of mine.
I did not speak out loud. So many thoughts were going through my head. I was one of the campers that others picked on. I was different. What fascinated and amused them did not resonate with me at all. I was the last chosen for any type of sport. I was the last to be included in the horse-play and roughhousing that all kids do. I felt very misunderstood. I felt alone. All of this was churning in my head.
Then the idea of testing God popped into my mind. If I felt alone and misunderstood, surely if I asked God would introduce himself. Show me something. Give me a sign so that I did not feel alone anymore, right? I argued with myself. I had been told that “You shall not test the Lord your God.” Why? We test everything else. Why is God so special I cannot test him? So in all audacity, with very little hope of anything happening, I put God to the question. (I will paraphrase the following because I do not remember it verbatim.)
“God, I need to know that you are there! I don’t care how you do it, but I need something.”
I remember asking this over and over. I would ask. I would wait. I would look around. I would listen. I even remember taking in a deep breath. Perhaps God is answering me in a smell? I remember getting up and walking around. I even looked behind the curtains on part of the stage at the back of the chapel. Did God leave something for me. A note. Something? In frustration I sat back down, and finally laid back down on the bench. Once again looking up to the darkened ceiling. I really hadn’t expected anything. Why should I be disappointed?
It seemed like I lay there a really long time. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to go back to the cabin. Even though God had not revealed himself, the chapel was still a very comforting place. After a while a peace just came over me. I fell asleep.
A crashing woke me up. There had not been any wind or any movement at all in the air when I first came into the chapel. Now, the wind had ripped open the windows and had banged back the two heavy steel doors at the front of the chapel. It was still dark. It was still night. It was a bit scary.
I went to the big doors to latch them open so they wouldn’t keep banging back and forth; all the time thinking, perhaps this is a sign? No. I was fooling myself. This was just wind. As I touched the first door to pull it back, everything stopped. The wind. The banging. The windows moving. It became still. I just stood there. I knew that if it was just normal wind, it would start up again in a moment.
I just stood there.
No wind.
No movement.
No sound.
Yah. This was just a coincidence. Nothing more. I knew that wind was related to spirit. That God’s spirit was described in terms of whirlwinds breezes and storms. But I just couldn’t bring myself to link my question, my test with just a gust of air.
I turned back and decided I had to get back to the cabin before the counselor woke up. I would just have to test God another time. I still felt a little frustrated.
As I was about to leave through the back door, guess what happened? The wind came back. I could hear it blowing above the roof. I could feel the wood floor shift slightly below me. The two big steel doors suddenly blew themselves shut. And the wind mysteriously died out again.
I could not be sure, but I think this was God answering me.
As I made my way back to the cabin, no wind. Not even a breeze. Quiet.
That was the first time I really felt that God was more than a presence. More than a tickle in the back of my mind. Something happened.
