Meditation: No Mat Required
by Jodie Lannan
Meditation
I must honestly admit the first thing that comes to mind when I hear the word is the image of a yogi sitting crossed legged on a mat, shrouded by the fog of burning incense, chanting “om.” Maybe it is my dry sense of humor, or the reality that I grew up in the ‘70s when meditation was equated with getting in touch with yourself and discovering your inner strength, but, regardless of the origin of the word association, it is, praise the Lord, not where my mind stays.
Christian mediation conjures a very different image for me. Instead of folding myself into a pretzel and trying to empty my mind through chanting, I see myself sitting with my precious Savior, looking into his grace filled eyes, hearing his calming voice and feeling his loving touch as I try filling my mind with his Word. It is the time and space where I am able to fix my eyes upon Jesus and draw upon his joy and strength allowing it to envelop me like a warm, well-loved blanket. It is through this time of attentiveness to him that I am able to consider all the ways I see “the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living” (Psalm 27:13).
As I look back over some of my journaling, I see how meditating on God’s goodness and grace, focusing on his sustaining power, has carried me through seasons of sorrow and grief. In moments of deep despair, I wrote of God’s faithfulness over the years, made lists of the good gifts he has given me, and repeatedly penned my favorite verses of Scripture. Nestled between the tear-stained lines of lament I can hear the hope that comes with knowing that my joy comes from the Lord. It is in the shaky handwriting of my own sorrow that I can see how meditating on God’s character and promises, so beautifully written in his love letter to all mankind, allowed me to see his goodness in spite of whatever the current set of circumstances were.
In my humanity I, like many other people, fall prey to letting meditation fall by the wayside or slip to the back burner when life’s circumstances appear good. Reflecting about my times of meditation when all seems right in the world, I recognize that I am less passionate with my words and less committed with my time, even though my love for and devotion to Jesus remain the same. I chew on the Word, but do not savor each morsel as I do when I am crying out. The words of Scripture, the lyrics of a song, the prayers of my heart are tasty in times of joy yet, somehow not quite as rich. I recognize that in these times I am slipping into self-sufficiency which dulls my palate somehow and deceives me into believing that a little bit of Jesus is good enough.
Why is it that I cling to the practice of meditation, drawing life sustaining power from it when I am in the clutches of despair, but so readily loosen my grip when all seems well? What would it be like if I faithfully meditated on God’s goodness and grace, seven days a week, 365 days a year regardless of life’s circumstances? Surely, my joy would be more complete and I would bear more fruit. Surely, I would feel more satisfied, nourished by the Bread of Life and my thirst quenched by the Living Water. Surely, I would feel the peace that surpasses understanding. I want that. Do you want that, too? Join me…no incense, no mat, no chanting … just Jesus.
