Experiencing God

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector
St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas
June 10, 2007; 2nd Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 5, Year C
Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(Galatians 1:11-24) -- I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that the gospel that was proclaimed by me is not of human origin; for I did not receive it from a human source, nor was I taught it, but I received it through a revelation of Jesus Christ.

You have heard, no doubt, of my earlier life in Judaism. I was violently persecuting the church of God and was trying to destroy it. I advanced in Judaism beyond many among my people of the same age, for I was far more zealous for the traditions of my ancestors. But when God, who had set me apart before I was born and called me through his grace, was pleased to reveal his Son to me, so that I might proclaim him among the Gentiles, I did not confer with any human being, nor did I go up to Jerusalem to those who were already apostles before me, but I went away at once into Arabia, and afterwards I returned to Damascus.

Then after three years I did go up to Jerusalem to visit Cephas and stayed with him fifteen days; but I did not see any other apostle except James the Lord's brother. In what I am writing to you, before God, I do not lie! Then I went into the regions of Syria and Cilicia, and I was still unknown by sight to the churches of Judea that are in Christ; they only heard it said, "The one who formerly was persecuting us is now proclaiming the faith he once tried to destroy." And they glorified God because of me.

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There is an edge in Paul's voice today. "I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that the gospel that was proclaimed by me is not of human origin; for I did not receive it from a human source, nor was I taught it, but I received it through a revelation of Jesus Christ." We know that he is talking about the vision he experienced on the road to Damascus. He started out on that road with the intention of arresting the followers of Jesus and he left that road being a follower of Jesus. He says, "God... was pleased to reveal his Son to me."

Then he goes on to say that he didn't receive instruction from the Christian authorities about his faith. He didn't study under them and learn what he was supposed to believe. Instead, he "went away at once into Arabia, and afterwards ...returned." Paul's faith is grounded in the experience of revelation. It's not something he studied himself into. Or you might put it this way, Paul's direct experience of Jesus gave him a fundamental faith in Jesus, not a faith about Jesus. It was personal, not just theoretical. It was felt, not just thought about. He had an experience that shook him to the core, then he thought about it. The rest of his life was oriented to that reality.


Walter Hurt was an intimidating professor of mine. He taught Apologetics at the General Theological Seminary. Apologetics is the field of study concerning the systematic defense of the Christian gospel. It is intellectually rigorous and rationally grounded in historical evidence and philosophical arguments. It's a head trip. And Walter was the perfect teacher for Apologetics. He was so smart, that when he preached, I didn't understand a third of what he said. But it was impressive. He was the professor who could make the rational, intellectual argument for the existence of God stick.

We had just finished a series of lectures on Thomas Aquinas' famous five "proofs" for the existence of God. Walter had been rigorous and thorough. The classic "proofs" had a few holes shot into them by Walter. The next topic was "the argument from experience." Oh, I thought. Get ready for a blood-letting. If the most persuasive rational, intellectual, philosophical arguments for the existence of God got such critique from Walter, wait until he gets a shot at some syrupy, subjective emotional speculation from history's vault of visionary crazies. This should be fun, I thought.

After a fairly tepid introduction to the "argument from experience" and his pointing out its obvious weaknesses – it is usually an individual experience without objective verification; how do you know if something subjective is true or delusional? – Walter shifted tone a bit, saying "But let me offer you something of a personal example."

Then Walter told our class about a time many years before when he was assisting at the altar with a priest he disliked. In fact, he said it would have taken energy to work his feelings all the way up to "dislike" for the priest. In a real sense he cared nothing at all for the man. Walter described the worship as a dull, routine Eucharist presided over by a dull, routine priest. In the congregation was an older man who was partially crippled and unable to mount the steps to the altar rail. He was a regular. Unfortunately, he was one of those people whose disability only exacerbated his bitter personality. He was cranky, offensive and mean-spirited. Walter said, "I really had no sense of compassion or empathy for him at all. It was as if in his crippling he had gotten what he deserved. His body truly reflected his being."

As was the custom, the priest picked up the cup and a wafer to take communion to the old man in the congregation. Now quoting: "As the acolyte swung open the altar gate," and at this point in the lecture Walter began to choke with emotion. His face flushed and his eyes watered. I watched this rigidly logical professor standing fiercely upright fighting to gain composure. "Even now the remembrance of it causes me to weep," he said. He took a deep breath, and in a hushed, cracking voice he spoke rapidly, "As the acolyte swung open the altar gate, I saw a heavenly light pour through the windows and ceilings upon that priest, and I saw him. He was Christ entering our world to feed broken humanity. And that crippled man -- he was all of us. Broken and hurting, waiting to receive life literally from Christ."

There was a few seconds of silence, as Walter recovered. "So you see I believe the classical apologia from experience is a strong argument for the religious possibility." Crisp, logical once again.


My favorite spiritual writer Dr. Gerald May is a psychiatrist who has conducted hundreds of in depth interviews with people from all walks of life, asking them about their spiritual experiences. He is particularly interested in what is called the "unitive experience." He describes a unitive experience as when "one feels suddenly 'swept up' by life, 'caught' in a suspended moment where time seems to stand still and awareness peaks, ...becoming at once totally wide-awake and open. Everything in the immediate environment is experienced with awesome clarity, and the vast panorama of consciousness lies open. For the duration of the experience – which is usually not long – mental activity seems to be suspended. Preoccupations, misgivings, worries, and desires all seem to evaporate, leaving everything 'perfect, just as it is.' Usually there are some reactive feelings that occur toward the end of the experience, feelings such as awe, wonder, expansiveness, freedom, warmth, love, and a sense of total truth or 'rightness.' After the experience is over, there is an almost invariable recollection of having been at one." (Gerald May, Will and Spirit, p. 55f)

Gerald May says that nearly everyone he has interviewed in depth, including people with some brain damage or schizophrenia, can recall at least one or two unitive experiences. One man told of a moment on vacation in the mountains when
everything had become quiet. The crickets and cicadas had silenced their chirping, and even the breeze stopped. All I can say is that moment was an eternity, and it was the moment of my birth. ...I had no thought at the time – everything was just there. I had no reaction except for a deep quiet and peace. This is hard for me to say, but as some point I remember thinking "There is a God, there is a God." And my life hasn't been the same since then. I still practice law, and I keep the same friends. I still worry about money and politics. I still snap at my wife when I've had a hard day, but I'm different. Somewhere deep down something has changed. Now I look for God – I seek the wonder of life, and while I appreciate being here on the face of this earth more than ever before, I also fear death less. I sit alone sometimes, and now and then I enter that moment again. (ibid, p. 69)

One of the privileges of being a priest is that sometimes people trust me with their stories of their spiritual experiences. This week a friend told me how coming to receive communion has always been an experience of the presence of God. Another told of a difficult period of life years ago when she was alone, recently divorced, separated from her church community, not knowing where to go or what to do. She reached out challenging God saying desperately, "Show me something." And deep within she felt a message: "Be patient. I am preparing something for you." About a year later she connected with the love of her life.

It is not unusual for the experience of the Spirit to occur in times when there is a void – an openness, emptiness, or vulnerability. We've just experienced the disciples' story of the ascension of Jesus – his leaving them, his absence – which opened the way for Pentecost and the coming of the Holy Spirit. Contemplative practices seek to open our selves to God in silence and stillness to wait for the possibility of union. It is in the void that God tends to be revealed.

These moments of spiritual experience are powerful, yet they are also very fragile. They can be easily dismissed – I must have been delusional; an overactive imagination; that was nice, now but back to real life.

No! These moments of spiritual insight are our most real life. They reveal to us the deeper reality which is eternally present just below our ordinary consciousness, underneath our plain sight, just beyond whatever we are grasping. They cannot be manipulated or controlled, for God is free. They can only be appreciated and recalled.

I'm convinced our healthiest life happens when we orient ourselves around such reality. When we, like Paul, insist – God was pleased to reveal something to me. When we recall some moment, maybe only fleeting and obscure, when we received something not from a human source, nor taught, but received through a revelation from God.

I'll bet that if you think about it a while, you will remember such a moment. Treasure that memory. Honor it with the fierceness of Paul. That single experience on the road to Damascus was enough for him. He didn't need anything else. From that moment he knew who Jesus was and he oriented his whole life around that reality. It sustained him through troubles and trials and even through some chronic darkness he called his "thorn in the flesh" which never went away. The vision on that road was enough for his entire life. It was his resurrection. He was changed forever. He was truly alive.

What is your experience of the deeper reality? How is that experience resurrection and new life for you? Recall, remember, treasure that revelation. It is enough to sustain you for the rest of your life.
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