Much of my life has involved active engagement in practices that are intended to focus my attention. The ancient practices of stillness, including centering prayer, come from deep within the traditions of our people. And we learn, from the Biblical record and other places that these are difficult and challenging. Abraham was especially gifted at discerning God’s call, but he got it wrong on several occasions. He convinced himself that God would find it acceptable for him to lie to Pharaoh about his wife, introducing her as his sister. He was wrong. He convinced himself that God was asking him to sacrifice Isaac. He was wrong. We learned that one has to be very attentive when listening to God’s call and the capacity to discern God’s call from our own desires is not simple.

The practice of centering prayer involves carefully turning one’s thoughts to God. You sit in silence and allow what ever thoughts or feelings come to you to rise to your consciousness. Then, one by one, you dismiss those thoughts and feelings so that you can focus on God. A variation on this practice is a breathing prayer, where you focus on your breath, dismissing all other thoughts and feelings one by one until you think only of your breath, which is God’s spirit flowing into you and flowing through you into the world.

Moses was said to be close to God and to know God’s voice, but he mistakenly convinced himself that God would allow him to live forever and to enter the promised land. He didn’t get that part right. Saul was anointed king by God, but passing his leadership to his son was not to be. David was a mighty king, but he got it all wrong in the disastrous and murderous affair with Bathsheba.

It requires hard work and discipline to focus on God’s call for your life.

As I began to study more and learn more about the practices of listening to God, I learned about Lectio divina, a practice of praying the scriptures and loving-kindness meditation. In seminary I studied contemplative practices and the arts and ways to focus attention through artistic and musical interpretation. Through my life in the church, I have learned the power and importance of bearing witness for justice and work and volunteering as spiritual practices.

I have studied deep listening and storytelling as ways to connect with others around a focused story.

I have explored the contemplative practices of movement including walking meditation and labyrinth.

All of this has been part of my role as an ordained leader of the sacraments of the church, where we join together to focus our attention.

I have learned and believed that focus is an important part of a spiritual life and an important part of remaining open to God’s presence and call.

Still, I am aware that I am often anything but focused. Scan the topics of my blogs. I speak about the process of vacation, about my grandchildren, about traveling, about fires in the west, about returning to work — all in a single week. The list of topics for a year almost defies categorization. The years of blogs posted on my website are disorganized and difficult to search for any common thread of meaning. There are, of course, themes, but they take some real attention to discern.

Before I was writing the blog, I was equally disorganized about my journal writing. I would write about the weather, about my health, about my family, about being a pastor, about my career, and a thousand other things. I was anything but centered.

Over the years my sideline interests have also been varied and diverse. I have flown airplanes, worked in broadcast radio, driven a school bus, sailed, pursued photography, worked in small town newspapers, built boats, hiked and backpacked, ridden bicycles, built boats, paddled canoes and kayaks, rowed, and engaged in hundreds of other interests and activities. Focus would not describe my recreational life at all.

Perhaps it is just self-justification, but I have come to the conclusion that there is another type of spiritual practice that is not contemplation and not centering. There is a type of spiritual practice that is not based in focus, but rather in expanding the field of vision.

It is also a legitimate spiritual practice to try a bit of this and then try a bit of that as you explore the wide diversity of God’s world.

In photography, focus is not just about getting a crystal clear image across the range of the photo. A computer can do that-in many cases a computer can do it better than a person. Take a photo with a point-and-shoot camera or with a smart phone. You are likely to get good, high-definition results with uniform clarity and sharpness across the image.

The problem is that uniform focus is not the way our eyes see. We are used to having some things in our range of vision less focused than other things. The periphery of our vision is often out of focus. Distant items are less focused than close items.

A photographer uses depth of field and focus to create an image that tells a story. A carefully focused athlete with a blurred background conveys the image of speed and action. A single drop of water suspended in the air with an out-of-focus background tells of the power of moving water. Photography is an art of balancing focus and out-of-focus.

Like photography, not everything in life should be focused. There are times for single-minded contemplation of God and God alone. There are times when such focus prevents seeing the vastness of God’s activities and creation. Sometimes being less focused allows one to recognize that God is present in everything - in every thought - in every activity - in every feeling. Seeing God, recognizing the divine presence may require focusing on a single thing for a while, but sometimes is is just the right thing to use the widest field possible and expect to be surprised by God’s presence.

Spiritual maturity requires both centering and widening.

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