Our Second Birth

Many Christians today are not interested in what others describe as a second birth.  But Jesus gives a graphic picture to Nicodemus about the spiritual birth that needs to happen before one can enjoy full relationship with God.

Nicodemus kept thinking in terms of something physical and Jesus kept talking about being born of the Spirit.  Birth is the essential word because as our anger and guilt and shame are washed away, our new original Self is born in us.  We are not the same as we were before.

Both kinds of birthing include labor—and pain.  Our spiritual birth includes the tears and anguish of remorse of all that we have committed and omitted in our attempts to make ourselves into what we thought we ought to be.  There has to be some rearranging of our personality—which has a similar trauma to the pain of parturition.

But just as a mother will declare, as she dotes on the infant she has born, that all the labor pains are worth the result, so one who has experienced spiritual rebirth will declare those labor pains produced something invaluable.

Your second birth awaits your cooperation.

Ann Glover O’Dell

5 August 2018

Room for a Baby

Sometimes babies are born in the most unusual places: a subway station, the back seat of a taxi, the corner of a crowded restaurant.  We never know where a baby might choose to make his appearance into the world.

The pregnant mother makes all possible preparations, packs a little suitcase for her trip to the hospital, or lays out all that will be needed when the midwife arrives.  A little nursery is made ready, a place for the infant to lie safe and warm.  If there are available funds, colorful decorations are hung to attract the infant once his eyes are able to focus.

But all the time no one knows exactly when the baby will decide to be born—or how much in a hurry he will be to get here.  Sometimes the mother has no time to travel to the clinic or wait for the midwife.  She is not able to make the baby postpone his appearance but rather must cooperate with this child who is eager to become a citizen of this earthly kingdom.  Babies generally have their own time-table and will not be thwarted in their determination.

The godchild within us is indeed one of those with a birthing mind of its own.  We absolutely cannot predict when God will bring our transformed spirit into our conscious awareness.  It is God’s secret, meant to reinforce his design and determination to have his way, to act on his own time schedule.  And it matters not whether we have made any preparations at all.  In fact, our ability to make any preparations is highly unlikely.  This birth is God’s surprise for us, the best Christmas gift ever, whether it comes on December 25 or any of the other 364 days available.

Ann Glover O’Dell

18 December 2017

Tidings

Tidings of great joy

to you

in you

for you are being born into

a wonder

a grace

a being fresh and new

for you

of you

by you

with you

as you

scarce aware of space prepared

are knitting infant clothes

and humming lullabies

and all the while

know nothing

of the miracle

you are become

Ann Glover O’Dell

26 June 2009

Easter Us!

Easter me, O God

Easter all

who sense a never-ending

Gethsemane

Golgotha

or emptiness

relentless in ennui

of  soul.

Easter us

as sure as lilies bloom

ere winter’s past

as sure as sun rise

heralds end of night

as sure as Eden tree

grows from a single seed

in skeleton shadow sown

remaining after all the old has died.

Yes

Easter once again

and again

and again.

 

Ann Glover O’Dell

26 June 2009

We Are God’s Christs

Jesus is everyman. Jesus is us.  He makes mistakes.  He becomes angry.  He needs quiet time.  And all the while he is trying to minister to others in the way he believes God is calling him to do.

Jesus truly cares about others, and his compassion is shown in many examples throughout the gospel stories.  He also recognizes his need for companions, for close friends, and for time to examine his own motives and goals.

Aren’t we like Jesus?  Haven’t we set out to make ourselves into the best child of God that we can be?  Aren’t we showing compassion and generosity to our fellows as we are able?  And don’t we recognize our need for community and enrichment and ways to keep our bodies and minds and spirits healthy?

I think yes.

So what is lacking?

What is lacking is our awareness that we are God’s Christs.  We recognize our humanity.  In fact, sometimes it is too much with us.  What we don’t experience and can’t find in all our thinking, reading, talking, acting, and even praying, is our divinity–the experiential realization throughout our entire being that God takes delight in dwelling within us, and that we are useful to God simply by being his holy, cherished Child.

So how do we achieve the goal of experiencing divinity within humanity?  We might begin with a letter to God–asking the genuine questions we may not have ever before put in writing.  See what happens.  My hunch is that God would welcome a dialogue with us.

My experience is that God wants our participation, our cooperation in this miracle of making us know we are his Christs.

(Note: a personal story of experiencing divinity is available on this website under Book)

ANGER

Surely God does not intend for us to be angry. Simply because anger overpowers and imprisons the joy that God has planted deep inside us.

Anger seems to be on the increase as God’s children are killing each other everywhere. And increasing in individual amassing of weapons for the purpose of killing.

Anger seems to arise when there is a feeling of loss of power, of control. It can be something as detailed as a TV set not working properly or can be a general feeling of more than hatred toward a group of people—perhaps coming from a fear that they might become more powerful, might try even to kill us.

What God wants is to eliminate the anger in us—one by one—through a personal transformation experience. Elimination of anger is the only means to our living in harmony with each other, whether in marriage, families, communities, nations.

Anger comes from wanting power, no matter how much we already have. Anger may be a sibling of greed—or surely plays into it. No matter how much power we have, we want more. We want people to behave the way we want them to behave. We want events and outcomes to follow our agenda. We want to be in control.

The drive for power does something peculiar to our insides—both physically and psychologically. It causes negative consequences that actually reduces our power and thus increases our anger.

Anger occupies the space where creativity and authentic excitement for life is intended to live.

We would do well to identify our angry spots and ask ourselves if we really do want to be rid of them. If we do, our Inner Wisdom can destroy what is keeping us from experiencing abundant life. It waits for our permission.

13 August 2014
Ann Glover O’Dell

(Note: my personal transformation story, where anger was destroyed in me and hasn’t returned in 30 years, is contained in the book,  Humpty Dumpty Hatched, which is available on this website.)

Invitation to Wholeness

The invitation to wholeness comes in a strange envelope.  Most invitations come in a phone call, an email, or a printed card in our mail box.  But not the most important invitation of all.

Most invitations request our presence and participation in a pleasant gathering of friends and acquaintances–a party, shower, wedding, celebration.  Usually we are delighted to be included and look forward to the event.  We begin to plan a gift we will take, what we will wear, etc.

The invitation to New Life is altogether different.  For one thing, it comes from inside, not outside us.  Secondly, it is anything but pleasant.

The invitation to New Life can take many forms–none of them enjoyable.  It comes as a negative feeling we cannot shake or ignore: a nagging restlessness we cannot satisfy; a dissatisfaction with activities that formerly gave us pleasure; a general feeling of failure; a kind of death gnawing away inside us; a conscious realization that we really don’t like ourselves very much.

Unfortunately an unwelcome invitation seems to be the only way our Life Force can get our attention.  As long as we find our life satisfying, there is no impetus to change.  Only something negative can get our attention.

For social gatherings it doesn’t matter much whether we accept or regret the invitations we receive.  Not true of the Invitation to Wholeness.  The Life Force is determined for us to have something more than the best we have experienced of this life.  It will be relentless in its attempts to get our attention–and our permission to let it do for us what we cannot do for ourselves.  To try to ignore or dismiss this invitation may mean physical or psychological illness.

Would that we all might listen to the message of our pain and cooperate in our miracle of wholeness.

Humpty’s Hard Shell

Humpty’s arrogance and self-confidence seem to come from his belief that his shell is durable enough to adequately protect him. And what about us? What makes our shell grow thicker and stronger? What makes us think we are adequately protected?

Life situations, where we might have felt vulnerable, might have felt hurt by someone’s penetrating criticism but where we were able to ignore or counter the attack, contribute to a thickening and strengthening of our shell. Our accomplishments help as well. Also our ability to cope and control.

Humpty convinces himself that the King will not allow harm to come to him. We, however, come to believe we don’t need a King to protect us. We have learned how to protect ourselves. We are invincible. And besides, we’ve been perched on our wall so long we’re certain we can keep ourselves from falling.

Remember, Humpty, like all eggs, if they have been fertilized, should develop into a new creature. In order to emerge from his shell, the chicken must be strong enough to force his way out. If he is not able to peck through his shell, he simply dies inside. No one comes to his aid. Another case of survival of the fittest.

And what about us? We cannot imagine wanting out of what we have worked so hard to establish. We can’t imagine destroying what we’ve worked so hard to harden. And if we did feel a yearning to peck our way out, we doubt our beaks would be strong enough to penetrate the impenetrable.

Something must happen to make us want to emerge and that same something must be the enabler as well as the catalyst. That something is found through the deep desire for something more.

Haven House Came Calling

That same summer the director of a new residential treatment center for drug and alcohol addiction came to my church committee with a request. Would we participate with some others in providing an encouraging Sunday message for the residents of his facility? I was delighted with the opportunity.

My family would be satisfied that I had somewhere to tell my story where they would not feel embarrassed. And I would have a monthly opportunity to interact with people who wanted a new beginning. I was eager to see if they would respond positively to my ideas and my story.

And they did. For 32 years they have continued as I have been taking meditations to Haven House and telling my story as well.

My first message was entitled “Good Grief!” (summary follows)

Ecclesiastes 3:1-4 says “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: . . . a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.”

Job 17:7 says “My eye has grown dim from grief, and all my members are like a shadow.”

II Corinthians 7:9-10 says “. . . I rejoice, not because you were grieved, but because you were grieved into repenting; for you felt a godly grief… For godly grief produced a repentance that leads to salvation and brings no regret. . . .”

Jesus wept over the death of his friend Lazarus, wept over his inability to win Jerusalem to the kingdom of God, and grieved over his own impending death. More than anything, the grief of Jesus points to our own basic need to grieve over ourselves. I invite you to consider using this time in your life to do some proper grieving over yourself—some Good Grief.

Grief may be the most important emotion in our lives. It certainly damages us if we do not pay attention to it.  Stages of grief can include anger, guilt, remorse, and feelings of loneliness, helplessness, and despair. Often we get stuck in the guilt. Guilt which produces tapes that keep playing over and over, telling what we did and didn’t do that we are ashamed of.

And the loneliness. And the despair. I urge you to allow yourselves to go beyond the guilt and loneliness to let your grief go even deeper than you have let it go until now. Our natural reaction to negative emotions is to try to ignore them or push them down or run away from them. You have already acknowledged that your response has been to try to escape.

My experience convinces me that the only way we can get through with our grief is to turn and face it—to actually give it permission to let it take whatever expression it chooses to take, whatever form it needs to take to work itself out in us and heal us. A written dialogue with what it eating away at us is what is needed to learn that something deep inside can do for us what we cannot do for ourselves.

Grief is an emotion that cannot be denied if it ever is to disappear. The sadness must be permitted, experienced to the fullest. We must shed all the tears that have been bottled up inside of us in order for all the guilt to be washed away and joy emerge.

Someone has defined laughter as the soul’s most perfect prayer. After our painful, paralyzing time of mourning, authentic laughter will return and with it a special kind of joy. Look at what happened to Jesus as a result of his tears. He was able to raise Lazarus from the dead. In his death the old body died and a new personality was born. Not only the Jerusalem he wept over but people all over the world have followed him as disciples. The same kind of amazing power will happen in our own lives.

I urge you to get on with your grief work.

Why Me?

Marveling at the sheer absurdity that such a miracle could/would happen to me, I began to ask, “Why me? Why has this happened to me?” And immediately and consistently the answer came, always the same.

“Why not you? Why not everyone!? “

I realized that of course the same transformation is intended for everyone. Like the bedraggled Grizabella in “Cats!”, I needed it at the moment perhaps more than anyone I know. I was sure, however, anyone and everyone who needed and wanted what had come to me could have the same thing.

I wanted to shout my story from the rooftops, tell everyone I knew about my miraculous experience. My family accused me of deciding everyone needed an experience like mine. They weren’t far wrong. I became more and more certain that everyone who wanted the freedom and joy that had come to me could have it through a catharsis similar to mine.

With few exceptions, my friends wanted to label the sickness I’d be through a rough virus. Some, when I mentioned miracle, seemed surprised to the point of being fearful, perhaps that I was going to harass them with some born-again story. I wish they had let me.

Several of my closest friends easily recognized that I had experienced something life-changing. And said so. They could hear it beyond my words, feel it in my voice, and sense it in the calmness I exhibited.

My mother suggested I begin writing the experience. So in the summer of 1982, I began making notes and constructing an outline. I jotted down quotes from the hilarious incidents that immediately began to prove—as if I needed further proof—that something absolutely extraordinary has occurred deep in my psyche and was being felt throughout my personality.

My Miracle

All the confessions and apologies began a trip into the depths of remorse. Besides the side of me that needed to be right and in control, there was another side of me.  A me that had set out to make myself into a good person. I realized I hadn’t accomplished that and there was no starting over.

The remorse produced a kind of spiritual despair that is indescribable. I felt an empty space inside that cried out to be filled with something good. But I could find nothing good to put into it.

The next morning a telephone call asked me to help with a funeral at my church. I said I had been quite ill and was unable to help with anything. My caller did not urge me.

As I hung up the phone, a voice came to me. It called me by name and said was its child. It told me I didn’t ever have to do another thing. That all that was intended was just for me to BE.

I heard it in my head and I experienced it all the way to my feet. All the anger and guilt and despair disappeared. And what came into the space inside was a kind of joy I never expected to experience.

I began to laugh—at the unimaginable absurdity that such a miracle should happen to me. The laughing felt wonderful. I realized I had never laughed like this before—a laughter that came from a sense of well-being throughout my entire body—and mind—and spirit. And the laughing was such fun that I kept on laughing.

My Great Confession

Reluctantly, my family agreed to sit down together and listen to what I had to say.  They were exhausted by my uncontrollable and inexplicable sobbing.  It was painful for them to watch me, be with me.

What I had to say was nothing short of amazing.  I asked their forgiveness—forgiveness for all the times I was wrong and should have apologized but wouldn’t.  As tears flowed again, I told them how sorry I was for being the way I had been.

The way I had been was a woman so determined to be  in control, to be right, that I never admitted I was wrong, said I was sorry, for ANYTHING.  Even when I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that I was wrong, I would not admit it.

When verbally backed into a corner with my misdeeds, I would turn everything around and accuse a family member of making the situation look as if it was my fault when it wasn’t.  I always put the blame on something or someone else.

My family was flabbergasted!  For a while, speechless. Then they told me about the many times they had wished for an apology from me, and it never came.  They told me they finally gave up hoping they would ever hear one.  My family had given up hope of ever hearing an apology from me, and here I was confessing and apologizing for EVERYTHING.

As I repeated my tearful confession of guilt and shame, I could see fatigue taking over.  What I had to say was so heavy to hear that they finally could listen no more.  I think we all took naps that afternoon.

The Unexpected Crisis

My husband met me at the airport as I was arriving home from a meeting out of state. As soon as I saw him, the tears I had been holding back with all my might for hours were released and I began sobbing in his arms.

“What in the world is the matter?”

“I don’t know.”

“What happened at the meeting to upset you?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. I kept thinking on the way home that maybe something terrible had happened to you or one of the boys.”

“No, we’re all fine. Or at least I think so. Robert is still on his Boy Scout camping trip. He’ll be home tomorrow. But I haven’t had word of any problem. Now just relax and I’ll put in a call to check on the troop.”

“Okay,” I said, still shaking with sobs.
“Now, you know no news is good news, right?”

“Right,” I said, still sobbing.

“Well, let’s get your bags and go home.”

All the hour’s drive home I sniffled and wept, trying my best to stop. We reached home and the phone call was made. All was well in the scout troop.

And still I wept. I was frightened, more frightened than I’d ever been in my life. I had no idea what caused the tears but I couldn’t stop them. Through the night and the next day the tears continued. I believed I needed tranquilizers or other drugs, but a little thought in the back of my head told me that I would be all right only if I didn’t take any drugs. A therapist friend diagnosed the situation as a crisis and said I would get through it if I didn’t thwart the process with drugs or alcohol.
Sometime during the next day I was moved to ask all my family members to gather because I had something important to tell them. I call that now my Great Confession.

 

The Impetus to Dialogue with our Inner Wisdom

As I look back on my life-changing conversation with my Inner Wisdom, I think my pastor’s words to me were indeed inspired.  He did not say go pray, read Scripture, etc.  Instead, he said, “Listen to the message the pain has for you.”

The dialogue for any of us is not a courageous act, leap of faith, or surrender.  Our free will is never compromised.  It is simply a conversation–an interview with our Inner Wisdom.  Questions and answers.  Nothing more.

And yet so much more!  What we find is a force for good that wills us so much more than we can imagine.  it can do for us what we cannot do for ourselves.  Yet it will not coerce.  It invites our cooperation–our participation in our own miracle through our permission.

Being so convinced in my dialogue that the force beneath my pain willed me life and not death, I readily gave permission.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, let the process begin.”

No more questions, no hesitation.  The resolution was so satisfactory that I folded up the piece of paper, put it away, and forgot that the dialogue had taken place.

Some time later the miracle occurred.

 

I Am a Transformed Humpty!

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall;

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men

Could not put Humpty Dumpty together again.

Thirty-five years ago I was dying.  One of the two things I vowed not to let happen to me had happened.  Cancer loomed large. I went to my pastor for comfort but received instead a strange directive.  He told me to listen to the message the pain had for me.  What ensued was a conversation between two parts of my personality which resulted in a cooperative venture that saved my life physically and allowed an entirely new personality to emerge.

Part memoir of a miracle and part unique insight into psychological phenomena, Humpty Dumpty Hatched: Transformation for Everyone has indeed something for everyone whose shell is breaking and whose wall is crumbling.  It tells the secret that is intended to be shouted from the rooftops.  No trying harder.  No giving yourself endless affirmations.  No getting busy.

As personal story, Humpty Dumpty Hatched suggests our kinship with the nursery rhyme egg, but unlike Humpty, our need is to break open our shell and allow a new being to emerge. A new being that is cleansed of anger and guilt.  A new being that has expanded space for creativity and authentic joy. A new being that finds itself satisfied in merely being rather than needing to justify its existence by doing.

Meet the person I was for much of my life—driven, controlling, determined to have life work on my terms.  Meet the me after of my shell-breaking, three-day crisis—free, laughing, whole, for all these 30 years.

My repeated question, “Why me? Why has this happened to me?” was, each time I asked it, answered with , “Why not you?  Why not everyone?”  And I realized that my story is intended for everyone.

Stay tuned next week for part of the Humpty Dumpty story. . . .