Mepkin Abbey: Spiritual Home

I guess there is a reason that I refer to Mepkin as my spiritual home. There are the monks. Father Kevin, brother Vincent, and Father Christian are the three that truly have been friends and fellow disciples, walking along the road of Emmaus. Even before, when Aelred was at Mepkin, he was an inspiration, and a picture of that love that I so desperately yearn for. Then there is the scenery. The ancient trees remind me of my ancient God, the ancient of days. The Cooper River reminds me of the eternity of God's flowing love, and flowing grace. It would be enough if these two things were at Mepkin, but I feel like these two people, the woods, and the people, are just the tip of the iceberg. As I sit in that place, and as I bring myself to the cross of Christ, every time I find the same thing. I find Him. I find Christ forgiving, I find Christ loving me, and I find Christ reminding me to not fear. Do not fear.

I am so familiar with fear. I walk around trying so hard to fit in, to love, to be accepted, and to make a difference. But as it turns out, I spend so much of my energy on "coming across as loving," that I damage the actual love that I give out. And so, my love is always stunted. My love is always filled with myself. My love is tainted, and the love of the world is so tainted, and so focused on itself. And so when I go away, and when I listen to Christ, I hear him saying the same things every time. I hear him saying, "I love you, I delight in you, and I have given you everything." My identity as a disciple of Christ is changed when I go South to Mepkin Abbey. My identity is so tenuous. I am in such desperate need for love, and for attention, and for something to boast about. Whether it is my kids, or whether it is a position that I hold, my aim is often the aim of boasting. And so when I head South, there is nothing to boast in. There is nothing left anymore. When I go into the presence of Jesus, I bring nothing. I do not bring my wife, my kids, or even my bible. I bring me. And the reality of bringing my full self in front of an awesome God, is a hard reality to face. I do not want to do it. I would rather text a friend. I would rather email my mom. Now while these are good things, they often crowd out the voice of God. And so at the end of the day, what happens at the Abbey, is the same every time, I get to hear the voice of God again. And God's voice is loud and clear. Have you heard it? Have you known it? Do you know this Jesus? Are you exhausted and tired? You might be tired from hearing too many voices other than the good shepherd. You might be sick and tired of being sick and tired. And you might be sick of yourself. And you should be sick of yourself. You are a mess. You know you are. And I know I am a mess. I am totally broken. I am impotent, entirely.

It is such good news that Jesus Christ thirts for us, from the cross. While he was dying, he was thirsting for us, as He says on the cross. Read that passage over again It says that he thirsts. And the thirst he has is for us, His children. It is an amazing love, and every time I go to South Carolina I put that coat of many colors back on, and I am dazzled by how good it looks. It looks mighty fine.