This image reflects the simple Christian mysticism found in the writings of Paul, as I see it:

(Thanks to the amazing artist, Howard Tangye, for the figure drawing above that I have imposed words and pictures on.)

I

I see the great doctrinal achievement of Paul's mysticism in how he locates the Godhead in Christ and Christ within the human subject. 

Paul does not pray to a Christ seated at the right hand of the Father, beyond the clouds.  No. The Christ he lives with and prays to, and through, along with the Father and the Holy Spirit, are located right within his own subjective experience. Very up close and personal. No distance to travel between he and Christ. Yet this Christ is transcendent, and in you and in me, all at the same time.

This is a monumental leap, one that requires a very uncommon understanding of the self.    For Paul, the self is not even alive, until it is aware of and consciously devoted to the Living Christ.  (Incidentally, this strikes me as a more Buddhist than Jewish understanding of the self. The process of an awakened guru becoming an internal portal to the divine is also very Indian.)

How would this affect the experience of Christian prayer / worship if the Living Christ, a human manifestation of the Divine, were actually residing inside of one's own subjectivity?

How would one's personal wellbeing be different if his or her 'self' were experienced as radiantly alive due to such a devotional connection with this Living Christ?

How would our ethical lives in relation to self and others and the environment be different if all moral questions were explored within the light that is shed in this zone of primary spiritual practice?  The Golden Rule, after all, assumes that our lives are, in fact, the temples of the Living God.  That is the spiritual infrastructure of Christian ethics, from the Sermon on the Mount to the radical moral stances taken in the epistles of James and John. As an old Anglican hymn sings out:

Blest are the pure in heart,
for they shall see our God;
the secret of the Lord is theirs,
their soul is Christ's abode.

The Lord who left the heavens
our life and peace to bring,
to dwell in lowliness with men,
their pattern and their king.

Still to the lowly soul
he doth himself impart
and for his dwelling and his throne
chooseth the pure in heart.

Lord, we thy presence seek;
may ours this blessing be:
give us a pure and lowly heart,
a temple meet for thee.

 II

But couldn't it also work the other way around?   Couldn't we alternatively pick up the simple teaching of Jesus that says, "If you want to be great, then serve,"  and via that very path of service discover the Living Christ within us and within our world? 

What if we were to approach serving others with all of the vigor and rigor that a more typical mystic prays and meditates?  I mean to really fully be a servant, holding nothing back.  Could that lead to the same spiritual reality of inwardly offering ourselves in absolute devotion to the Living Christ?

III

And, of course, there are lots of examples of people who adopt one of these paths and end up becoming worse instead of better human beings.  Ever meet a thoroughly egocentric mystic or social activist?  Clearly, not all mystics and social activists are well developed, emotionally stable, compassionate human beings.

IV

Maybe these two, seemingly opposite, paths, the active and the contemplative, were meant to be intertwined, so that they can provide checks and balances on each other.  The way of contemplation might help social activists become more aware of their own hidden emotional agendas which sometimes interfere with their work.  The way of social action might help contemplatives become more aware of  the inauthenticity of what are at times taken to be powerful states of virtue in themselves.

Personally, I'm more of a Mary than a Martha.  And so, I have to ask myself... if I'm often inwardly sitting at the feet of Jesus but never hearing anything about actively helping my neighbors, loving my enemies, and so on....am I listening as well as I imagine myself to be? In other words, if the plant is being so well tended, then where's the fruit?

V

What would the general implications of the above be for what we understand the Christian way of life ("Christian life") to be ?  And how does that compare with our actual way of life?

VI

If the church is truly serving others in its liturgy, shouldn't its liturgy be playing a demonstrably key role in the flourishing of the persons in the care of the church? If living the Christian way of life requires a certain competence in both  contemplative and socially active directions, then how can the liturgies of churches assist in the development of those competencies?   Where else can we acquire those competencies?