Archives For Henri Nouwen

To live a spiritual life does not mean that we must leave our families, give up our jobs, or change our ways of working; it does not mean that we have to withdraw from social or political activities, or lose interest in literature or art; it does not require severe forms of asceticism or long hours of prayer. Changes such as these may in fact grow out of our spiritual life, and for some people radical decisions may be necessary. But the spiritual life can be lived in as many ways as there are people. What is new is that we have moved from the many things to the kingdom of God. What is new is that we are set free from the compulsions of our world and have set our hearts on the only necessary thing. What is new is that we no longer experience the many things, people, and events as endless causes for worry, but begin to experience them as the rich variety of ways in which God makes his presence known to us.”

(Making All Things New, pp. 56-7)

Henri Nouwen on the spiritual life

Posted on March 18, 2013 In Culture, Gospel , , , ,
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Henri Nouwen on prayer and action

October 31, 2012 — Leave a comment

When it comes to our spiritual lives, it’s more or less a universal tendency to compartmentalize. We recognize there’s both a personal and a communal aspect to the Christian life, that there’s a vertical and a horizontal dimension, that there are the things to be done within the walls of the church and things to do beyond those walls.

But so often we view these as competing priorities, failing to see all the ways in which they’re mutually reinforcing disciplines and practices for followers of Christ seeking an integrated way of life. In Compassion: A Reflection on the Christian Life (Image), Henri Nouwen writes:

Prayer and action… can never be seen as contradictory or mutually exclusive. Prayer without action grows into powerless pietism, and action without prayer degenerates into questionable manipulation. If prayer leads us into a deeper unity with the compassionate Christ, it will always give rise to concrete acts of service. And if concrete acts of service do indeed lead us to a deeper solidarity with the poor, the hungry, the sick, the dying, and the oppressed, they will always give rise to prayer. In prayer we meet Christ, and in him all human suffering. In service we meet people, and in them the suffering Christ. (pp. 116-7)

If we really understood this, it seems to me, we’d be on the whole a lot less frazzled, a lot less weighed down, a lot less distracted with endless “busywork” for God. And we’d be able to set aside more or less fruitless debates about the prioritization of evangelism vs. social action, or prayer vs. service, or community vs. mission, and get on with the truly good stuff: loving God and loving others as a grateful response to the grace we’ve so freely received.

[Image credit: from the cover of Touch: Pressing Against the Wounds of a Broken World by Rudy Rasmus]

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Henri Nouwen on suffering, joy, and the coming Kingdom

March 26, 2012 — Leave a comment

In Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming (Image Books), Henri Nouwen reflects on the well-known parable through the lens of Rembrandt’s classic depiction of it. Over the course of the book, Nouwen sees himself in the waywardness of the younger brother, he sees himself in the self-righteousness of the elder brother, and ultimately, he sees that’s he’s called to become like the compassionate, welcoming Father in his grief, his forgiveness and his generosity.

Near the end of the book, having reflected on the many ways in which we are all the younger brother who squanders what’s entrusted to us, and how we’re all the elder brother standing aloof, thinking ourselves better than our brother, he turns to the wonderful truth that even so we’re invited to the Father’s embrace and celebration. The younger brother enters the party with repentance and joy, but in the parable and in Rembrandt’s painting the elder brother’s story is left unresolved. We don’t know whether he’ll accept the invitation or whether he’ll remain stiff, standing alone, in the shadows.

Our world is marked by much that is not right, much that is broken. We see some of that brokenness in the inner and outer lives of the brothers, in their relationship to each other and in their relationship with the Father. But the Christian hope is that one day all things will be made new, and that will be cause for some real joyful celebration. In the meantime, however, there are small joys. “I don’t have to wait until all is well,” Nouwen writes, ”but I can celebrate every little hint of the Kingdom that is at hand.” We live simultaneously in the already and the not yet:

When Jesus speaks about the world, he is very realistic. He speaks about wars and revolutions, earthquakes, plagues and famines, persecution and imprisonment, betrayal, hatred and assassinations. There is no suggestion at all that these signs of the world’s darkness will ever be absent. But still, God’s joy can be ours in the midst of it all. It is the joy of belonging to the household of God whose love is stronger than death and who empowers us to be in the world while already belonging to the kingdom of joy.

This is the secret of the joy of the saints. From St. Anthony of the desert, to St. Francis of Assisi, to Frere Roger Shultz of Taize, to Mother Teresa of Calcutta, joy has been the mark of the people of God. That joy can be seen on the faces of the many simple, poor, and often suffering people who live today among great economic and social upheaval, but who can already hear the music and the dance in the Father’s house. I, myself, see this joy every day in the faces of the mentally handicapped people of my community. All these holy men and women, whether they lived long ago or belong to our own time, can recognize the many small returns that take place every day and rejoice with the Father. They have somehow pierced the meaning of true joy. (pp. 116-7)

Our hopeful expectation isn’t that someday we’ll be whisked away from this fallen world; rather, it’s that someday Christ will make all things new. It’s a down-to-earth hope, but it’s also cosmic and glorious. It’s truly good news. In the meantime, these already-but-not-yet words of Jesus ring true and make joy a real possibility even now: ”In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

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Henri Nouwen on creative ministry

August 24, 2011 — Leave a comment

Henri Nouwen, the well-known Dutch priest, wrote a lot of books, though I’ve found some more helpful than others. In the Name of Jesus, for instance, is one of my absolute favorite books, and I re-read it more or less annually. I just finished Nouwen’s Creative Ministry, and while I wouldn’t say it’s his best, I thought this excerpt was a real gem:

Ministry means the ongoing attempt to put one’s own search for God, with all the moments of pain and joy, despair and hope, at the disposal of those who want to join this search but don’t know how. Therefore, ministry in no way is a privilege. Instead, it is the core of the Christian life. No Christian is a Christian without being a minister. There are many more forms of ministry than the five I have discussed in this book [teaching, preaching, individual pastoral care, organizing and celebrating], which usually fill the daily life of the ordained minister and priest. But whatever form the Christian ministry takes, the basis is always the same: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.

But why does a man lay down his life for his friends? There is only one answer to that question: to give new life. All functions of the ministry are life giving. Whether a man teaches, preaches, counsels, plans, or celebrates, his aim is to open new perspectives, to offer new insight, to give new strength, to break through the chains of death and destruction, and to create new life which can be affirmed. In short — to make his weakness creative.

- Henri J.M. Nouwen, Creative Ministry (Doubleday, 1991)

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The best books of 2010

February 4, 2011 — 2 Comments

In a post like this, it bears stating that I read a lot of books, and with very few exceptions, I don’t regret reading any of them. So when it comes to picking which ones were the best — as I am occasionally asked — I find it exceedingly difficult. To get me thinking through the good, the bad and the ugly of what I’ve read over the past year, I took a look at two “best of” lists that I’m inclined to take seriously, both of which I commend to you as thoughtful and well worth checking out: Christianity Today and Heart & Minds Booknotes, the latter of which is put together by Byron Borger, who runs a one-of-a-kind bookstore just across the river from here in York, Pennsylvania. You really need to see it to believe it.

Now for my list. Keep in mind that this includes not just books published in 2010, but any I read during the course of the year. I’m terrible at ranking these sorts of things, so what follows is what you might call a “tithe” of the books I’ve read: the ten best ones, in no particular order, with a brief blurb about why I liked each one so much:

Richard Foster, Streams of Living Water: Celebrating the Great Traditions of Christian Faith
Takes a look at the six streams of the Christian faith, including how they’re rooted both in the Bible and church history, as well as the strengths and weaknesses of each. For a denominational mutt like me, this book was soul medicine.

Eugene Peterson, The Jesus Way: A Conversation of the Ways That Jesus is the Way
The third in a five part anthology of “spiritual theology” this book examines the most neglected part of the teaching that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. Profound implications on following Christ in all areas of life.

Marjane Satrapi, Persepolis
It’s a memoir in comic book form about a girl growing up in revolutionary Iran. Need I say more?

Eduardo Galeano, Soccer In Sun and Shadow
Includes short vignettes from each World Cup, set in the context of where history was headed at the time, along with short player biographies and poetic descriptions of the intricacies of the beautiful game.

Henri Nouwen, In the Name of Jesus
Turns the ubiquitous idea of “leadership in ministry” on its head, emphasizing that what the world needs isn’t more leaders, but irrelevant servants who live like Jesus. I read it in 2008, 2009 and again in 2010, and I plan to read it regularly throughout my life. It’s very biblical and completely counter-cultural within church as we know it.

John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath
This was a daunting one to begin, but once I finally got around to reading it, it sucked me right in. The story of a family during the Depression, interspersed with snapshots from the world around them, is epic and its themes are, for better or worse, timeless.

Chaim Potok, The Chosen
This novel was highly recommended to me by multiple people, and it didn’t disappoint. The story of two Jewish boys and their fathers in Brooklyn, whose lives are worlds apart yet inseparably linked.

Dee Brown, Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee
I hesitate to include this one because I didn’t exactly enjoy it, and neither will you. It’s long and tedious and depressing. But it’s perhaps the most important book I read all year.

Michael Reid, Forgotten Continent: The Battle for Latin America’s Soul
I made it a point during 2010 to read more books focused on Latin America, and this was probably the one that best captured the mood and the context in the continent at the moment.

G.K. Chesterton, St. Francis of Assisi
Having read several books about St. Francis already, and even having visited Assisi five years ago, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about this. But Chesterton has a masterful way with words and where other biographies of the man who spoke with birds fall short, this one soars.

So, how about you? Which books do I need to add to my list for 2011?

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