Rev. LuAnn Rourke, superintendent of the Heritage District, writes about the Lenten practice of “spiritual location” she has adopted, reminding her to pause in every situation and consider how and what she feels before responding.
LUANN ROURKE
Superintendent, Heritage District
Recently, I traveled to a denominational gathering in Atlanta. I arrived late after an early morning flight and a slow drive through the city from the airport to the church hosting the event. I found the church easily enough with Google Maps. However, upon my arrival, there were no helpful directional signs indicating where I should park or which of the several buildings on the campus I should enter.
I found a security guard who assisted me. After parking, I walked to the doors I had been instructed to enter, only to discover they were all locked, with no one visible inside. Just as I was about to go around to the other side of the building, someone unexpectedly came out. She asked if I was there for the event and opened the door to let me in before walking away.
I could see a big room filled with people through a window in the corridor, but I had no idea where I was supposed to be. I found my way to registration, where they handed me a card on which I was to write my name and find all the necessary information using the QR codes printed on the back.
Feeling slightly put out by my experience, I entered the place where everyone was gathered. All the round tables and chairs around them were full, and there was no available space. I texted a couple of people I knew were there, and they confirmed they could not see any empty seats. I stood by the wall for a few minutes, then found a seat on a bench in the hall, where I could still hear what was happening.
I began to recap all the things I thought the organizers would need to hear from me about how unaccommodating and unwelcoming my experience had been thus far. And then, like a breath of fresh air, the Holy Spirit reminded me that I get to choose how I respond. I have the power to take offense or embrace humility. In more common language, as people might say, I could cop an attitude or just chill.
In that moment, my Lenten spiritual practice was born. This was the week before Ash Wednesday, and I hadn’t considered how I might approach the coming season of repentance and reflection. I’ve not always been good at adopting a discipline for Lent, whether it meant giving something up or adding something new. When I have managed to do so, it would likely have me counting down the days with an “I can’t wait for Easter” attitude that had nothing to do with anticipating resurrection, transformation, and new life.
But I hope this year will be different. I was put out by what I perceived as a lack of decent hospitality, so I adopted a “spiritual location” practice for Lent. This practice involves asking three questions: How does the space around me affect me? How do I impact the place I inhabit? What blessings might I receive and give in the place where I am?
So much in the world right now seems unpredictable, unprecedented, even unthinkable. It is natural to react emotionally when we feel threatened and things seem beyond our control. We feel vulnerable, and we lack a sense of security. We may feel embattled, don’t know how to defend ourselves best, and cannot anticipate where, when, or what the next assault might be. All of this is anxiety-inducing.
The practice of spiritual location gives me pause to name and consider how and what I feel. Emotions are valid and real. If I can name and consider them, I can then feel them fully and channel them appropriately into a measured response. I can avoid being driven by them to cause harm to the people and situations around me.
Emotions are like arrows; they need a proper target. If we let them fly in any direction to relieve the pressure we feel, we may cause great harm. However, if we aim those feelings and emotions like an arrow shot from a bow toward the cross where Jesus died to set us free, we will be free indeed. At the cross, Jesus took on all the worst humanity could conjure and transformed it into power we could never have found ourselves.
What if we sought God’s transforming and healing work in our most difficult emotions? What if our anger and self-righteous indignation were transformed into action that pursues justice rather than likes on our social media, which makes us feel empowered for a minute because people agree with our opinion?
What if we allowed the love of God for us and all those in the space around us to move us from inertia to intention, from being driven by fleeting feelings to being a driving force for good? What if we allowed God’s perfect love to perfect us in love for others?
A Christian rock band named Audio Adrenaline released a song in 1993 that resonates with me this season. The chorus of “Rest Easy” (listen now) is so good for me in my Lenten practice of spiritual location:
Rest easy
Have no fear
I love you perfectly
Love drives out fear
I’ll take your burden
You take My grace
Rest easy
In My embrace
May God’s loving embrace take hold of us and all we are feeling this season and beyond. May we find in God’s love the transforming power of Christ’s work on the cross. May we be compelled by God’s love to walk graciously into the space around us, and may mercy and justice be found in our every footstep.
Last Updated on March 24, 2025