of life that accompanies death or life-threatening illness of significant others, the overwhelming sense of gratitude that may accompany the sparing of one's life or the life of an intimate are events during which human beings frequently report an emotional depth that touches the profundity of life. Persons of faith often identify this depth of existence with a sense of the sacred, a sense of being in the presence of God.
Rudolph Otto contended that when we encounter this level of existence it evokes in us a deep sense of awe, or terror, or fascination.4 We human beings, generally at some point quite early in our lives, are confronted with life's fragile and transient nature; a relative or friend grows old and dies, a pet is hit by a car, accident or serious injury befalls someone we know. When this occurs we begin to ask questions about the nature of life and our role in the universe. We wonder why accidents occur and why good people suffer. Tragedy strikes and we are caught up short, yet we are touched at a depth of being not thought possible. Sometimes we hurt so deeply we know life must have meaning.
At other times we are overcome with a sense of awe, with the wonder of it all. For some, that comes from seeing a night sky far away from the city lights and being overwhelmed by the vastness of the universe. Others are awed by the wonders of travel to other cultures or to alien geological zones where nature seems unfamiliar. A sense of awe wells up inside; we may feel both insignificant and graciously blessed at the same time.
My most recent experience of surprise involving the beauty of the created world came on a trip to Hawaii. I was visiting the Big Island of Hawaii, where a volcano constantly sends lava to the sea in a stream of fire and where waterfalls and tropical forests abound. Friends insisted that we must include on our itinerary a snorkeling trip to Kealakakua Bay. Not being afraid of the water, yet not being an accomplished swimmer, I protested. I was sure I lacked the skills to manage a mask, breathing tube, and fins. They persisted, and my spouse, a former lifeguard, gave me the necessary encouragement to attempt this adventure. I will never forget the first look I had under the water. My breath was almost taken away, not from inhaling water, but from the sense of wonder and awe. The hues of red and blue coral, the colorful fish of countless patterns and shapes, the blue, clear water—all of this was more grand than I had imagined. The moment came utterly by surprise. With one look through a mask I discovered a world I had never seen—another aspect of God's creativity!
When we are in the presence of such profound forces—forces beyond ourselves—our lives are often transformed or healed. During a small group worship that I was leading, a noted and respected theologian once shared an experience she had had after struggles with infertility. One day while on a holiday in France she found herself watching a relationship between a mother and her young daughter. Her fascination was piqued at first by the laughter and play occurring between them. Suddenly it was as if time stopped, and the deep sense of joy between them became her joy. At that moment all the children on the beach became her children. Although this seemingly timeless moment lasted only a few moments, she recalls that her own issues of infertility acquired a new context, and her anxiety was transformed. She told me that after this experience it would be okay if she never had children.
This encounter with the holy transformed her life. The physiological issues surrounding her infertility had not changed, but her encounter with the holy had transformed her approach to this issue. She continued to go for the medical procedures necessary to enhance her chances for bearing children, but with a realization that if this were not possible she could accept the outcome.
Experiences like this are not unusual. In the 1960s humanistic psychologist Abraham Maslow spoke about peak experiences—those times in human life when we get a glimpse of the divine and a sense that we as human beings are a part of something larger that eludes explanation.5 We have “aha” experiences that according to Maslow can be small events—for example, a beautiful sunset—or powerful events that lead us to make a major life change or to see the world differently.
For many people encounters with the holy are relatively infrequent. They come “out of the blue” and although profoundly meaningful nevertheless are not repeatable or sustainable. It is as if communication with the profound depth of life occurred, but the likelihood that it might happen again seems relatively rare. Spiritual directors William Barry and William Connolly say these experiences are God's invitations to deepen our relationship with the divine.6 They claim that every time someone stops to participate in the visual glory of a sunset, that person has been offered an invitation by God to share more deeply in relationship.
Believers following the Christian tradition have the opportunity to relate to God through any of the persons of the Trinity: God, the loving parent; Jesus Christ, the Son; and the Holy Spirit. Mainline Protestants are probably most comfortable with relating to God, the caring and loving parent, or to the Holy Spirit as it is present in the fellowship of the church. But these are only two ways of being in relationship with God. What we do to be disciplined in this relating requires further reflection.
The evangelical friend I mentioned earlier would no doubt say that her primary means of relating to the sacred is through her relationship with Jesus. In her church, people have a sense that Jesus is with them because of his love and their faith. For them, living the sanctified life means having a sense that Jesus is present at each moment. The phrase “thank you, Jesus” is frequently on the lips of some who find Jesus the primary means for relating to God's sacred presence in daily life.
For others, the relationship may come through the sense of the Holy Spirit, either in the community of faith, in small groups of that community, or in a direct relationship of prayer. The late Canadian novelist Robertson Davies, in one of the books of his Deptford Trilogy, has an elderly priest speak about the depth of his relationship with God.7 This old and now infirm man says that when he was young he never understood how anyone could relate to a ghost, even if it were the Holy Ghost. In his youth, the third person of the Trinity lacked an experiential relevance for him. Now, however, as an old man he greatly appreciates that God is also present to believers as the Holy Spirit. He wonders how, as an old man, he can relate to God through the eyes of Jesus, a young idealist who was primarily concerned with calling people to an ethical lifestyle. As an old man, he experiences deep and abiding relationship with the Holy Spirit.
The deep and abiding relationship with the divine calls us beyond ourselves. It invites us to order our lives in faithfulness to the sacred presence and mystery that surrounds and undergirds us. By moving into relationship with the divine, we move beyond our self-absorbed, self-focused existence. Our life becomes oriented around the values that flow from our religious faith and our religious sensibilities. This form of self-transcendence grounds our life in faithfulness to the divine. As we move increasingly into a deeper relationship with God, we discover afresh God's deepest presence in the midst of our lives. As we have taken up and been caught up in the transforming relationships of those we love, so now we accept God's invitation to be in relationship with the sacred presence that is as close to us as our breath.
The spiritual exercises in the concluding chapter of this book provide a means for accepting God's invitation to love, to work for justice, to be transformed. They acknowledge the God who calls us in the beauty of the sunset, in the last breaths of a loved one dying, in the acts of sacrifice and love that promote justice and yearn for peace. These practices are avenues to the holy for those who will hear either “the still small voice” or the earthquake and the fire.
Justification by Faith
The spiritual practices of mainline Protestants will necessarily begin with the theological assumption that such practices are drawn upon as a response to God's love. They are not used to earn one's salvation. Mainline Protestants have inherited through their denominational traditions a belief in a God of love who offers salvation as a gift for those who believe. This God does not require believers to earn divine favor; instead, divine favor is bestowed on all who have faith. In order to understand the significance
