Nestled in the corner of a strip shopping center, my favorite Colorado Thai restaurant served scrumptious pineapple chicken curry. Eager to replicate the dish, I set out to decipher the ingredients and spices involved in the creation. I scribbled down notes as I savored each bite at the restaurant.

 

Arriving home, I sniffed my way through the spices, examining ingredients in my pantry and refrigerator, ready to discover the secret to the deliciousness. Time after time, my attempt would come up a bit shy of the wonder created at the restaurant. Returning for another meal, I poised questions aimed to ferret out the sauce’s coveted design.

 

Have you ever been so intrigued by a certain dish from a favorite restaurant that you also were eager to recreate it at home? Perhaps, like me, you wanted to deconstruct the delightful entrée so you could figure out the secret to its flavor then reproduce it at home.

 

 

Journeying Alongside

In my work as a spiritual director, some folks comment that they do not connect with the flavors of Lectio Divina. What if you could catch a whiff of it differently, so its taste became a favorite?

 

Let me deconstruct Lectio Divina with you. Come along on the journey and I will show you how its various layers create a place of growth for me. Perhaps then, you can find a new way to connect with the ingredients that make up Lectio Divina. Walk with me through my thought process as I encounter Romans 8:1-6.

 

Preparation: Enter the Quiet and the Rest

I breathe.

I settle down to remember God’s presence.

I agree to be open to God’s Presence, holding my hands out, palms up, to receive what He has in store.

 

 

First reading: For Familiarity

To become familiar with the passage, I listen in. [Keep in mind, this spiritual practice can be used with any passage you choose. You can read it yourself or find a place that reads it to you.]

 

It’s still dark outside yet I’m up and alert. I sequester myself away from the household, slipping into the quiet of the guest room. My eyes close. I’m stretched out flat on my back atop the single bed. A lightweight turquoise throw keeps my body temperature comfortable but not too warm, or I’ll doze off. As I read the passage aloud, odd thoughts try to snag me.

 

Distracted momentarily

Ever felt like you are not quite present? Here are several ways I regroup:

 

    • I jot down the thought that is niggling at my brain.
    • I let the thought float by, like a leaf on a stream, acknowledging its presence yet turning my full attention back to the words of Scripture.
    • I inhale, exhale, shift, or change my posture.
    • I hit pause. I take a few deep breaths and sit with silence a bit more.

 

Today, I jot down two things I don’t want to forget and that’s enough to settle back down.

 

Re-engaged

This is a place of rest. I’m not here to check this off my to-do list for the day. I’m here to be with God. I’m here to hear His Word.

 

I inhale and exhale, reading slowly. I allow Romans 8:1-6 to run over my tongue, listening or repeating the phrases. In the way I might savor honey freshly harvested, a raspberry just plucked from the thorny bush, or the slow melt of a tiny bit of dark chocolate dotted with sea salt, I linger in the syllables. I repeat them, let them echo them quietly.

 

Perspective One

This first reading is for the big view. It’s as if I’m soaring in a four-seater airplane above a vast landscape. I’m low enough to identify major landmarks, like the white barn by a field of grain or the shoreline near the lighthouse at low tide. However, I’m not close enough to see each tiny detail.

 

I pause at the end of this first reading.

 

 

Second reading: Notice

Now the second reading occurs. Here I am invited to notice a specific word or phrase that catches my attention, one that I want to look at it again. I let the passage flow over me. I inhale, exhale, and stretch my hands wide open, ready to hold what is about to be given.

 

Perspective Two

This second reading occurs as if I’m now standing on the tin roof of the white barn in the field or barefoot at the shore’s edge. From here, I survey what attracts my attention. How does it feel as I read this second pass through this passage?

 

    • Is it like the way the wind dances with the wheat?
    • Is it like the way the waves collapse into a white froth?
    • Is it similar to the sounds of the spring calf’s low mooing or the frolicy splashes of the bottle-nosed dolphin?

 

I relax. I listen for what leaps out. There is no striving, no chasing a particular phrase, no intentionality to choose this word or that portion. I carry no expectation, no sense of need to parse this word or figure out what the Greek or Hebrew means, or what a commentary might suggest.

 

My heart notices what intrigues, what prods, what challenges, what delights.

 

Paying Attention to What Sparks an Interest

Four snippets of phrases catch my heart:

    • “No condemnation”
    • “Set you free”
    • “For God has done”
    • “Set their minds on the things of the Spirit”

The words wash over me. I spend a moment or two simply gazing at the word or phrase, either on the page or in my imagination.

 

Like a child examining shells collected at the shore or some shiny rocks gathered at the fence line of a field, I hold each phrase in my heart. I speak it slowly in my mind. One tiny phrase sings in my ear more clearly than the others, as if it’s the repeat of a chorus to be cherished.

 

“No condemnation. No condemnation. No condemnation.”

 

I inhale, exhale, adjust my posture.

 

Now I look around the edges of the phrase, wondering at its dimensions, like a child turning a rock over, looking at the underneath side, the top, and all edges. Yet again, I don’t parse it, nor do I reach for a commentary or dictionary. This is a word given to me from God as a gift, unwrapped now but not fully known yet.

 

Pondering

I linger, gazing at that word or phrase. Here again, I roll the phrase around on my tongue, intentionally tasting all the flavors of it. I’m both paused and perceptive, tiptoeing my way around the whole of the word or phrase.

 

 

Third Reading: Invitation

This time during the reading, I listen for an invitation. The Lord has more He wants me to experience, encounter, become, or act upon. I am alert. I notice that this is an invitation to “no condemnation. No condemnation.”

 

Emotions Emerge

A kaleidoscope of emotions rolls into view. Doubt and a sharp edge of cynicism poke at me.

 

No condemnation? Those words from the Bible are true. Surely they apply to others. Perhaps, though, they are not meant for me. Then I so easily roll out the litany of things I’ve committed or things I’ve omitted. What’s that about? Why don’t I believe the words apply to me? I didn’t even know that was lurking there within me. That’s an unexpected revelation, one I need to sit and visit with God about so we can explore it together.

 

Questions to Consider

Sometimes other questions arise. There might be questions like these. I listen to the questions and choose one to settle in on.

 

    • What lies, wounds, myths, and mottoes hold my heart at bay from the freedom of the truth of no condemnation in Christ Jesus?
    • What of this is tied up with a debacle that has been full of destructive winds like a tornado, gusting from some recent unpleasant encounter?
    • Where have I let a lie tie me up in knots?

 

More Questions to Consider

Another emotion juxtaposes the first one: intrigue. I stay curious. I allow another set of questions arise.

 

    • What if I lived as if it was true that there is no condemnation?
    • How would I dance more joyfully at whatever crosses my path?
    • Where would laughter ring louder than blame, which tries its best to drown out the truth with loud shouts?
    • What if I get more freedom through more inner healing?
    • What if I live from the place that Christ’s cross worked to free me?
    • What do I need freedom from? From performance? From shame? From scarcity’s mindset? From needing to be perfect?

 

 

Holding Space for God’s Invitation

Invitations ripple in the air. The facets of intrigue and doubt are certainly invitations.

Which shall I linger with now as I sit here with Father, with Son, with Holy Spirit?

 

Next Part of the Journey

Now I hear God invite me to respond. He really does want to know what I’m thinking and feeling. My response may be something simple like “Thank You, Father” or “I love you, Lord Jesus,” or “I’m glad for Your companionship, Holy Spirit.” Or my response may come from a deeper or different place.

 

    • Where is this hitting frustration?
    • Where is this hitting joy?
    • Where is this hitting an emotion that You want me to bring around the table over a cup of tea when I am in conversation with You, Trinity?

 

I return to the prompting of these words to ponder my response.

 

Response

“Lord, could we talk further about…

    • About inner healing and transformation?
    • About what I need to release into Your hands?
    • About these wrestlings inside of me?
    • about how You would like to interpret this to my knotted places, unraveling the gut-punch and the twirling intrigue?

 

I jot these questions in my journal. Not all of these are the focus for today. Some will need to be explored another day.

 

The sun pokes its rays through the wooden slats. It’s time to get breakfast going then enter the commitments of the day ahead. I hear God say, “There’s more to explore. Ponder this during the day. Come back to this place tomorrow for more conversation.”

 

 

The Work of Lectio Divina: Reconstruction of Things Needing Deconstruction

Lectio Divina, like a good massage, works out the soreness of knotted places, reveals the health of other areas, and leaves me both more relaxed and a bit spent in the best of ways.

 

As my time in Lectio Divina ends, my heart delights in feeling God’s delight of being with me. I’m tenderly wrapped in joy at His invitation to return to these images and words today as I work, cook, walk, rest, and enjoy whatever this day holds. I can continue this dialogue with Him. The Word written speaks. The Father speaks. The Son speaks. The Holy Spirit speaks. I’ve listened and found my heart has shifted into more intimacy in the lingering with God.

 

Moving Forward

What happens after Lectio Divina is just as important as what happens during it. As the day unfolds and the week ahead meanders along, I often notice the words “no condemnation” simmering in my heart, like an inviting kettle of apple cider. I follow the intriguing aroma. I let Jesus hold the questions for me. I think about them, now and then, knowing there will be more to savor or wrestle with when we can sit together again.

 

Again, I experience no striving, no performance mentality, just a gentle awareness that there is more to come for my good.

 

More to Come

Soon I will sit with Father, Son, and Spirit. We will enter a deeper conversation about places deconstructed, being transformed, and in need of reconstruction by the Trinity’s gentle yet firm presence.

 

Here in Lectio, I am reminded again of how much He adores me. I’m thankful for His working into me the truth of 2 Timothy 3:16-17 for my own good: “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work.”

 

You come, too

I’m curious to know what He’s up to for you as you step into Lectio Divina in the days to come.

 

 

 

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