Trances, ecstasies, visions and raptures

 Yesterday in our Sunday school class, I taught a session on Teresa of Avila, the famous 16^th century Spanish mystic. I’ve always been drawn to Teresa—for her vivid imagination, her deep desire for intimacy with God, and her zeal for reform. Her book, The Interior Castle, has both intrigued and challenged me. An extended metaphor, Teresa envisions the Christian soul slowly growing in maturity, going from “mansion” to “mansion” in the castle until it finally reaches the 7^th mansion and finds perfect union with God. All of this takes place inside the believer, in the soul.

I stumble a bit in the 6^th mansion. Teresa’s experiences in prayer seem a bit extreme—visions and locutions, trances, raptures, and all sorts of ecstatic experiences that take the person out of their senses and leave them inebriated with God. Sometimes a sister might find herself silently drunk in the Spirit for days after the experience. I found myself asking, “Is this something I should want?” In one sense, yes, it might be wonderful. But, on the other hand, well—it all sounds sort of weird.

The 7^th mansion, the place of perfect unity, is surprisingly and blessedly free from extremes. God tells the saint that now that they are one (“the branch abiding in the vine”), there is no longer any need for more than occasional ecstatic experiences. The children of the spiritual marriage are good works, a reaching out to people who are suffering and need our comfort and presence. A good conclusion.

In the class discussion, one person told us that Teresa of Avila is the Patron Saint of Chess. Not only that, she was known for her joyful dancing in worship. That intrigued me, so I looked it up on the internet. Sure enough, partly because of Teresa’s use of the chess game as a metaphor in another book, The Way of Perfection, and because of her sharp intellect and ability to look ahead and plan, she has become the Patron Saint of Chess. Concerning her dancing, although her books focus on overcoming sin, on penance, and on suffering as parts of the path toward growth, many sources attest to her joyful habit of dancing during worship. She was a many-faceted saint.

One other thing. I learned that she is also the Patron Saint of Headaches and Migraines. One source said it was because her zeal for reform in the convents gave her superiors headaches.

Concerning the subject of ecstatic experiences, I wondered why this isn’t experienced as much among Protestants, and why it isn’t experienced more today. Perhaps it is in the more Pentecostal branches of the church. I also wondered why I haven’t experienced raptures, trances, or visions.

Then I realized I have. Although not a regular part of my life, at certain times in my journey the Spirit has visited me in a supernatural way that has impacted the rest of my life. Let me tell you about one such experience.

Hal and I had just returned to Oregon on our first missionary furlough from Bolivia. Accompanying us were five-year old David and two-year-old Kristin. Our task for the year—to travel throughout the yearly meeting speaking in churches, conferences, homes, etc., informing about the mission work in Latin America. I was nervous. Actually, I was frightened, sometimes experiencing moments of panic. Could I do this and do it well?

On this particular day, Kristin’s cousin Karina was with us on a play-date and the little girls, both two-years-old, were running around, giggling, having a noisy good time. I was doing housework, at the moment on my knees scrubbing the bathtub. I give these details to show that I was not in a spiritually charged, mystical atmosphere.

As I was scrubbing, the curtain that separates the everyday world from another realm divided and I slipped through. I was in the same house, but it was strange. I found a door I hadn’t seen before and as I opened it and went in, I discovered a secret room in this old house. It was a dining room, sparely furnished with a large wooden dining table and chairs and a wooden dish cabinet at the far end of the room.

I walked to the cabinet and somehow knew that I was supposed to set the table. I took down the four plates. They were fine china, white with a gold rim. But as I lifted each one, it came alive. A beautiful moving picture of nature filled it. The first held a meadow of wild flowers bending in a gentle breeze. The second featured a forest, leaves all fluttering, sunlight and shadows dancing. The third plate was a high mountain range, cumulous clouds scudding through the sky, and an eagle in the distance. The fourth and final plate showed a stormy ocean, waves crashing on the rocks, gulls cutting the air. All of them beautiful. I was breathless with the wonder of it.

Then I began taking down the four crystal goblets. As I lifted each one some inner instinct told me to put it to my ear like a sea shell. The sounds of each goblet corresponded to the scenes on the plates: bees, insects, and birdsong; the wind in the trees; the cry of an eagle; waves crashing on the rocks. Such incredible music!

I wondered who owned such marvelous dishes.

Suddenly an angel appeared at my side. He didn’t look anything like any angel I had ever imagined. He was obviously American and very athletic, sporting a blond crew cut and a knee-length Greek toga. I knew in my spirit that he was good. I was startled but not afraid.

The angel looked at me, smiled, then pointed to the dishes and said, “They’re yours, you know. Why don’t you use them?”

At that moment I found myself back in the bathroom, soapy sponge in hand, kids playing in the background. I sat back stunned, every detail of the experience clear in my mind. I sensed a new lightness in my spirit although I didn’t know what any of it meant. I carried that lightness and joy with me throughout the day.

When Hal returned in the evening I told him about my strange experience. He immediately responded with, “Oh, Nancy! Don’t you see what God is saying to you?! He’s telling you that in this hard task you have before you, he has gifted you with all you need to nourish people and to do it beautifully.” He wasn’t talking about food.

I’ve carried the message of the vision with me for over 50 years now. My life’s work has been about communication—mostly writing, but also teaching and speaking. As an introvert often called into public ministry which is naturally uncomfortable, God reminds me that he has given me all I need. Both substance (nourishment) and form (beautiful dishes).

I don’t know if this experience was an official “trance” or “rapture,” but I didn’t (and don’t) feel the need to categorize it. I knew (and know) that it was real.

Thanks be to God for all the ways he speaks to his children.