It took me years to recognize and admit that my “rub” with the world stemmed from being an idealist. I spent much of my life at odds with a world of pragmatists, quietly longing for something more—for mystery to be tangible, for magnanimous impossibilities to become reality, and for the improbable to break into the ordinary, here and now. That’s a tall order, and one that can leave you perpetually at odds with the world as it is.

The mind itself, within our human intellectual capacity, is limited when separated from the reality that human bodies are made of so much more than brain matter. We are thinking creatures, but we are also creatures made of dust, the breath/Spirit of God (Ruach (רוּחַ) is the Hebrew word for spirit, breath, or wind), flesh, and contain image-bearing attributes such as character, personality, emotions, and a heart and soul. The complexities of the human person are far beyond being a thinking, rational being.

For an idealist, making sense of the world requires a journey beyond rationality alone. We must learn to live with the tension between the world as it is and the world we long for, finding a measure of peace amid the unrest in our souls. At its heart, idealism is a longing for life to be more than what we can see, explain, or make sense of—a yearning for the extraordinary to break into the ordinary.

I’m not the first, nor the last, to long for God’s mysteries

A glimmer of hope began to sparkle when I encountered the Christian mystics. Their stories, longings, and lived experiences showed me my idealist dreams weren’t merely pie-in-the-sky fantasies, but glimpses of incarnate mystery, both transcendent and immanent, that I too can encounter and know. They also taught me I’m not the first, nor the last, idealist to long for the mysteries of God to be encountered.

As I befriended them, they showed me that the pursuit of God with all my heart, mind, body, strength, and soul is possible. That Paul’s prayer in Ephesians 3 to be strengthened inwardly through the power of the Spirit, to make room for Christ to dwell in my heart through faith, and to be rooted and established in love alongside all God’s holy people is not some far-off ideal. It is a tangible reality, a pathway into the depths of God’s love that can be experienced here and now, in the midst of my ordinary life.

No Superheroes Here

The Christian mystics often get a bad rap. They’ve been labeled as fanatics, hysterical, superhuman, or even mentally ill. We have a way of labeling people and experiences we don’t understand, and in doing so, we risk dismissing something worth exploring. My first inklings around the mystics are that they must have been some sort of superhero Jesus followers. Their experiences of and with Christ were far too otherworldly (even for this idealist), and I assumed I could never attain the spiritual heights they’d reached.

How quickly I was proven wrong. The mystics were ordinary women and men who chose to follow Christ and let that rule their hearts, minds, and lives. They were ruthless, trusting ragamuffins (a shout-out to Brennan Manning, who was one of the first to show me the mystics). Some were born into wealth and chose poverty. Others were given to the Church by their families, with little say in a life confined to an abbey. Some fled to the desert, while others embraced solitude or a simple life of service after great loss. Their circumstances and paths varied, but what united them was a deep devotion to prayer and a longing for intimacy with God.

One of my favorite mystics, Julian of Norwich, remains largely unknown to us, even her true name. We know little of her life, but she may have been an ordinary woman who experienced the loss of loved ones to the plague. From a young age, Julian longed to know Christ more intimately, and she carried that desire into prayer. As she lay on what she believed was her deathbed, God answered her longing by revealing himself to her in a series of visions, born not of her own striving but of divine love. She conjured no spells, performed no extraordinary feats, nor beat her body into submission. She simply brought her longing before God and entrusted herself to his hands.

The beauty of what the mystics show us is that no special credentials are required to open ourselves to God’s mysterious love, deepen our faith, or grow in union with the Trinity and the communion of saints. We need only an honest, wholehearted longing for more of God—not just in our prayers or our spiritual lives, but in the whole of our ordinary, everyday existence.

The Whole Mystic Thing Still Feels Uncomfortable

“Mysticism or mystical or contemplative may be a challenge for some. They are not easy concepts; rather, they point to a rich and many-layered dimension of spirituality. Furthermore, they mean different things to different people. One person may speak of mysticism as a shorthand word for intimacy with God, while another may use the same word to refer to supernatural experiences, with no reference to God at all.”

Within the realm of spirituality and world religions, mystics can be found in every tradition. This terminology has evolved with the human experience of religion, philosophy, and the pluralization of our world over centuries. For my book, I am only exploring Christian mystics, within a biblical, historical Christian perspective.

Mystics do venture into the more ecstatic, even “woo-woo,” corners of our faith, but that doesn’t mean they exist outside the bounds of orthodox Christianity. Part of my journey with the mystics involved sorting through the historical and contemporary allegations that continue to follow many Christian mystics and saints. Though an idealist, I’m also a skeptic. Driven by a hunger for greater depth in my faith and an insatiable curiosity, I followed the breadcrumbs, taking the time to listen with an open mind and discern the heart of their teachings. Looking back, I have no regrets.