Into The Mystic
These past months have been among the hardest of my life. Granted, I have lived a charmed life. But, I was not prepared to hear the words the doctor uttered that day in early July: “you have cancer.” Are we ever truly ready?
Here’s the crazy part: my heart is full of gratitude. It is the most prominent emotion I have felt throughout this journey. Gratitude that the cancer was caught early, that treatment came together quickly, and for friends and family who sacrificed to care for me. Gratitude, too, for my many friends and my St. John’s family who showered me with love and prayers. Even 1,400 miles away, I could literally feel the profound love this family was putting into the universe. This is the mystery of our faith.
There have been times I was cynical about the mystical side of faith—which is absurd, because without it, what is faith? Mysticism is the direct experience of God, a meaning rooted not in our heads, but in our souls. We are so steeped in our post-enlightenment mindset that we often look away from the mystical. We cynically scrutinize miracles, as though every aspect of our lives is not itself a miracle.
My illness forced a physical, emotional, and spiritual stripping away. It pushed me into a profound vulnerability—a space where only the essential remained. This stripping away, while painful, is where we can find true hope: being sustained by the inexplicable, raw presence of the holy. For me, the ultimate goal of this healing journey is peace—the sense of Shalom, or total wholeness. My journey now is spiritual integration—allowing the mystical its rightful place in my life and learning to live in a more cohesive way, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. This Advent, I am seeking to trust in the mystery of the Holy Spirit to take up residence in the still recovering, fragile parts of my heart.
The love I have received over these past months is the manifested mystery of God. Your care—the cards, texts, emails, and prayers—made Immanuel (God with us) real and observable. True community is the place where the mystical becomes tangible. The deep feeling of belonging upon my return is a mystical embrace—a sanctuary that reveals the unconditional love of the Incarnation. This community—this church—is that visible presence of the Body of Christ at work in the world, sustained by the Holy Spirit—the mystery of God.
As we enter Advent, we wait together for the light. Having witnessed that healing and belonging are found in community and sustained by the unseen, I encourage you to invite the most holy, the spiritual as you look into your own hearts this season. Where do you need the Holy to integrate the broken, lonely, or scared places in your spirit? Know that while that sacred presence is always with us in our brokenness, the Holy truly seeks to take up residence in our shared, whole, and integrated hearts.
Love, Mary
