If the finite is to experience the Infinite then such an experience must be by invitation and on common ground. The invitation is is His gift of faith; the common ground is His gift of charity.
Humans, “life aware of itself”, know themselves to be in the world but not of the world; partly divine, partly animal; partly infinite, partly finite. The contradictions and contingency of my existence cause me anxiety and create my need to find ever-higher forms of unity with the world, with others, and with my Creator. This impulse to understand the world, the Creator’s plan for me in this world, and to do so within a frame of reference that is always in the world, requires that I somehow make the Transcendent immanent; make God immanent in me.
Often, the action that provokes my experience of God is prayer. When I am anxious about the past or the future, I pray and think about the kingdom. Even though I am trapped in time, I can escape, if for just a while, by thinking about God’s being. I think of “I am Who Am” as the same timeless God of Abraham, Moses, Jesus, and me. In the kingdom, the future, like the past, is present to God’s mind. In God’s mind I am, have always been, and will always be present. When I see God as God sees me, it is in the present. Believing God loves me as I am now, I let go my worries about past sins or anxieties about the future, and I experience the kingdom, God’s peace.
But I also sense God wants a response. For the moment, eternity and time share a common dimension: now. In this moment the Transcendent is Immanent. All that I may have done in the past may be forgiven for God does not live in the past. All that I may do in the future is pointless for God does not live in the future. What I think and do now, this instant is all that is important to my salvation. Am I doing God’s will this instant? If I am, then the kingdom is come; imperfectly, perhaps, but it is surely upon me, it is “at hand.” While I cannot change the past nor direct the future, with the grace of the Holy Spirit, I can control this instant: I will to do God’s will. Peace comes upon me and my anxiety is replaced with affection.
My experience of God’s presence occurs whenever, prompted by God’s grace, I surrender my will, die to the world and am born to the kingdom of God. In his gospel, John tells us, ‘Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God” (3:3). I cannot will these experiences into existence nor can I yet sustain these moments of sublime rest. Regrettably, my affection wanes and I return to my anxieties. But I recall Jesus’ promise and with hopeful humility await his return, “Come to me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Mat. 11:28-30).
I can only hope that what I profess to experience is more infused by the Spirit than by me. Such a condition would make the source of my bias divine, and we call such an inspired bias by its more familiar name—faith. Only a mystical wisdom can hope to wrap itself around Mystery. Mystical and theological wisdom, grounded in faith rather than experience, possess an intrinsic superiority to metaphysical wisdom. I am more certain of theological wisdom than metaphysical wisdom, and of mystical wisdom than theological wisdom. Faith, the fountain of mystical wisdom, is God’s gift through which we come to experience God.