Boredom, Stillness, and Solitude

The sky was clearer than it had been in months. No cloud disrupted the sea of blue stretching out to the horizon. Tufts of snow still clung to the ground from a recent storm but the day was warming quickly and they would soon be gone. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity it was warm enough that I could take off my hat and gloves without incurring the wrath of winter’s pervasive chill.

I sat on my favorite rock, a moderately large boulder that is positioned nearly at the half-way point of my normal hike. It overlooked an old field that was rapidly being reforested. My family was occupied until noon so I had ventured out for a morning walk on the trail. As far as I could have dreamed it, this was an extravagant morning.

Yet

Yet, I felt the irrepressible urge to go home. Now, there was nothing pressing at home I needed to attend to. As I said, my family was out and would not return for a few hours. The cleaning could wait. I didn’t really have the urge to watch TV or play any games. In spite of all this, I still wanted to leave. Mind you, the place I was sitting was the exact place that I often dreamed of being. In the flurry of activity at work, this is where my mind wandered. There were few places that I idolized more. So why was I still longing to be doing something else?

This was not an isolated incident, far from it. I have found that my mind abhors a vacuum. Perhaps I am a product of my era but boredom is a word that creeps insidiously into my mind unnoticed. Even the things I desire most hold my attention for remarkably little time before the prospect of some new engagement is born. These traits are often associated with a particular generation or a particular stage of life but I believe that they are, in greater or lesser degrees, universal within the human condition. Surely advances in technology have exacerbated this trait but I believe it has always been there.  Blaise Pascal once wrote that “all men’s miseries derive from not being able to sit in a quiet room alone.” There are truths realized in solitude that we are often wont to flee from. So, to avoid such discomfort we flee to entertainments. It is not that these entertainments (books, television, physical activity, conversation) are negative but their use as a tranquilizer needs to be examined.

Be still, the Lord tells us.

Be still, and know that I am God.

We want to know the Lord but we buck at stillness. Stillness means inaction. Inaction means unproductive time. Even when we aren’t ‘producing’ anything we still crave to be productive, to be doing something. We flit from activity to activity, from thought to thought like the expeditious hummingbird whose physiology prevents it from idleness. Speaking for myself only, my mind is a hummingbird. It flits about seemingly unbidden, constantly in motion. Speed seems to be an attribute that haunts us. In conversation, we are thinking of the next thing we want to say. Even when we are not speaking, the speed at which our brains operate often cause us to make rushed or unexamined decisions. This in turn, creates anxiety. I find that I read too fast, not truly comprehending that depth of what I have just read. Similarly, I write too fast, often sacrificing wisdom for immediacy. Netflix and other streaming services have recognized and addressed this desire for immediacy and have begun straightaway playing the next episode once the previous has ended. Mind you, I’m not condemning these technologies as they are merely meeting the desires we already have.  To our detriment, we seem unable or unwilling to slow ourselves. Breakneck speed is our default setting.

In my own life I have tried several methods for stilling my mind. Depending on one’s circumstances however, different methods might be expedient. On a time management side, I schedule time to be outdoors in creation. This mitigates the amount of stimuli I am exposed to. In the course of work or while reading, I try to remember to take deliberate slow, deep breaths and often practice the Jesus Prayer (“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner”) or use other verses that I have memorized. In this I try to imagine myself moving as if in slow motion, truly experiencing the events, objects, and people around me. Too often, as we fly about, we fail to notice (or remember) that the Lord is with His children wherever they go. The Holy Spirit speaks and leads us throughout the day. In our perpetually rushed state, we often miss this voice which seems to prefer the whisper to the whirlwind. By stilling ourselves and engaging with the Lord in prayer (by this I mean conscious awareness, not necessarily speaking words) we allow ourselves the opportunity to notice what the Lord is doing, to see the image of God in those with whom we are engaged, and perceive the course He desires that we take.

At the root of this all is solitude. We are not inclined to solitude. For the most part we are afraid of it. So we fill our experience with people, entertainments, and even thoughts that shield us from facing it. “Solitude is one of the deepest disciplines of the spiritual life,” writes Richard Foster, “because it crucifies our need for importance and prominence. Everyone--- including ourselves at first--- will see our solitude as a waste of a good time.” It is difficult but many difficult things are just the things that we need the most (I find this true most of the time in my life). Henri Nouwen, speaking of the benefits of solitude writes, “Once we have committed ourselves to spending time in solitude, we develop attentiveness to God’s voice in us.”

Unless we cultivate the disciplines of stillness and solitude, even our greatest desires will fail to fulfill us, even the grandest experiences will fail to inspire awe. Unless we develop the muscle of solitude through discipline we will fail to fully experience the ways that the Spirit speaks to us. When we allow ourselves (or force ourselves) to slow our activities and thoughts, we can begin to realize that the joy of the believer is knowing and being known by the Lord at all times. Any other aims we have within the spiritual life pale compared to the fullness and joy of knowing the Lord and experiencing His presence. If we seek it, we can experience this at any time, at work, at play, in routine, in chores, even, in pain. If only we could still.

X.

The sound of rain
after a long winter,
a balm in the wake
of protracted pain.
In the darkness,
muted poetry;
in the warming of the earth,
joyful consolation.

IX.

In the heart of suburbia

There dwells an aching void which fails

To be molified by feeble

Attempts to placate. Here the dry

Bed of ancient stream languishes

Overgrown with vegetation.

Wild souls pacified by toys and 

Glitter, such vapid amusements

While bones ache for substance. We are

Citizens without nation; the

Self-imposed exiles of richer

Provinces, condemned to shallow

Lives lived without root. O Lord let

Us explore the loam, dig deeper

To be a people of a place.

Bind us together with sinews

Of memory and time, bonds of

Community and love. May our

Bones resonate with River, street,

Song. May we be a people whose

Blood runs with history rather

Than a history running with

Blood. Satisfy us with richer

Fare than circumspect but hollow

Isolation masking itself

As independence. Write our names

Upon the roads. Stamp legacies

In the bricks. Cause our gardens

To flourish with yeilds hundredfold.

VIII.

I did not know what to say

So I walked down to the lake.

I did not know what to think

So my feet found familiar paths.

The stones they smiled and met me there

And invited me in.

I know,

That as these hours pass

These pleasures cannot last

That dusk will soon be here

To claim this day's spoils.

So I'm left

With tragic insufficiency

Longing for Eden.

With the dream-lights pale,

Flickering above the face of the waters

And the waves beneath rippling

I spied the place a pine had been

Many years before.

Pruned, it had been once

Now ground into oblivion,

dust to paint the soles

And a garden to native things.

From the placid surface rose the moon

Rusty face ebbing.

Her pilfered light displayed for mortal man,

For the erring and the needy.

Spying her dusky domain

Shedding her bulk and color

She ascended into prominence.

I shuffled my feet 

The dry leaves rang impossibly loud

Til my presence seemed incongruous.

Then I surrendered

Becoming less

While aching for more

Until into the shadows I receded.

Go

This is article was originally written for my church, Ypsilanti Free Methodist Church

In the winter of 1777, the newly minted Continental army was looking to international sources to gain any advantage in their struggle for independence. Diplomat John Adams had been sent to Paris to try and encourage the French to join the war on the side of the new nation. The French diplomats, however, had taken such a dislike of Adams that negotiations had all but died. Out of desperation, leaders sent Benjamin Franklin, the ambassador to France to Paris. There, Franklin rescued the negotiations and secured French military assistance beginning in February of 1778, giving the new country the boost it needed to continue and (eventually) win its independence.

Franklin’s efforts represent exactly what an ambassador is expected to do: represent the interests of their home nation with foreign countries.

In his second letter to the Corinthians, Paul refers his companions and himself as: “ambassadors for Christ, as though God were making His appeal through us.”

We, as Christians, are more than mere citizens of the Kingdom of God, we are ambassadors. When we give our lives and allegiance to Jesus we do more than simply affirm some doctrinal statement. Too often we fall into the easy and comfortable life of living within our own ‘tribe’. We forget that we were not called to live entertaining, safe lives but to go out into the world as witnesses for Christ. We evangelicals can become remarkably un-evangelical on a practical level.

We are not only called out of our former sinful way of life but we are sent back out into our communities. The disciples, when reunited with the resurrected Jesus, were told, “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.”

Our involvement with God does not stop when we walk out the doors of the sanctuary. Attending a Sunday service should be more like the starting line of the Kentucky Derby. We show up to know where we’re going and what we’re doing and then--- you’re off, into the world Jesus sent us into. To think otherwise is to misrepresent the gospel we have been called to.

We are ambassadors for Christ, called to go into our families, our communities, and our world to bear witness to what we have experienced and know to be true. Our mission should, of course, inspire purity and fellowship so that we may best represent our true country but we must always remember our role: to go out as messengers to our neighbors.

A New Perspective on Fasting

Once upon a time it was my ritual to fast on Wednesdays. Instead of bringing a lunch to work I would simply bring a book to the lunchroom and read. Soon, however, my behaviors began to be noticed by my co-workers who wondered at my abstinence. They questioned me in spite of my intentions to keep my fasting unnoticed. Of course, I responded truthfully. My answer though was met most often with confusion and sometimes admonishment (I’m a thinner guy and they feared for my physical well-being). Week after week they would comment on my choice, not in a mean-spirited way, but rather with incredulity. They seemed somewhat unable to comprehend why I would voluntarily abstain from food. The fact was, I couldn’t really explain it myself either. I lacked the language to form a comprehensive answer.

I had taken fasting for granted (not that I actually did it that often). It was something I just inherently understood at least in theory. It was what “good” Christians did (or were supposed to do). The concept of fasting is so ubiquitous in Scripture that it can almost seem an abstract notion that is never fully addressed or expounded upon. Most of the attention given to it is either matter-of-fact mentions:

“While they were worshiping the Lord and fasting,” Acts 13:2

 or warnings about abuses:

“’Why have we fasted,’ they say, ‘and you have not seen it? Why have we humbled ourselves, and you have not noticed?’ Yet on the day of your fasting, you do as you please and exploit all your workers. Your fasting ends in quarreling and strife, and in striking each other with wicked fists. You cannot fast as you do today and expect your voice to be heard on high.” Isaiah 58:3,4

Generally, Scripture seems to use fasting in six primary contexts: seeking wisdom, mourning, worship, repentance, commissioning, and preparation. Fasting though is always seen as a further expression of these purposes and not a purpose in itself. Fasting, as a practice, seems to be something like a punctuation mark. If you are asking the Lord for something in prayer --- you fast. If you are mourning a great loss --- you fast. It is never seen as some way to blackmail or manipulate the Lord into something. David’s prayer and fasting for his critically ill son (who later dies) proves a good example of this.

How are we then to think of habitual fasting, something that we build into our lives and participate in regularly? For Jesus clearly assumed that His followers would fast:

“When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full.” Matthew 6:16 [emphasis mine]

[It must be noted here that Jesus’ assumptions about his follower’s disciplines (fasting, prayer, loving others, tithing) seem to be that they would be motivated by devotion and not by mere ritual alone.]

What attitude should we take as we attempt to make the discipline normative to our experience? How do we communicate it to others?

I recently found an interesting analogy from an unlikely source. While reading the book of Leviticus I endeavored to understand better the types of sacrifices outlined in the Law of Moses. In doing so, I came across the Peace Offering. In contrast to what its name might imply, the Peace Offering was not a means of making peace with the Lord or appeasing for some disobedience. It was not a way to make up for some mistake or misdeed. It was not buying flowers for an upset spouse.

“And this is the law of the sacrifice of peace offerings that one may offer to the Lord. If he offers it for a thanksgiving, then he shall offer with the thanksgiving sacrifice unleavened loaves mixed with oil, unleavened wafers smeared with oil, and loaves of fine flour well mixed with oil. With the sacrifice of his peace offerings for thanksgiving he shall bring his offering with loaves of leavened bread.” Leviticus 7:11-13 [emphasis mine]

Rather, the peace offering was a voluntary sacrifice offered to God. Unlike burnt offerings, grain offerings, sin offerings, or guilt offerings, the peace offering was not mandatory. It was designed to be a heartfelt sacrifice out of abundance or thanksgiving to the Lord. It was offered in three circumstances: 1) giving thanks to God 2) alongside a fulfilled vow or 3) offering God thanksgiving for some deliverance. With all of the multitudes of situations and sins in which the people of Israel were obligated to offer sacrifice to the Lord through the Law, this was one way in which they could give back out of the overflow of their own hearts. Now I’m sure that, at times, the peace offering was abused and instead of being a heartfelt offering it became a way for the wealthy to show how wealthy they truly were (they could afford to offer out of their abundance after all). Judging by the admonishments of the prophets and eventual condemnation of the nation I would bet on it. Still, this offering provided an avenue for the people of the Lord to voluntarily offer their thanksgivings and to show that the Lord has always been a God of grace. It was a kind of natural overflow of blessings, lavishly given and flowing back to the Giver.

With all this in mind, how do we view or explain the discipline of fasting? As with the Peace Offering, fasting establishes that we are willingly submitting our will to the Lord not out of guilt or some obligation. When we choose to abstain from something, food or otherwise, we are telling the Lord that He is enough for us, that He is what matters most to us. As the Peace Offering allowed the opportunity for the worshipper to voluntarily give, fasting offers the chance to offer our meager frames, so fleeting, fragile, and wavering, back to the Lord. Though our act of sacrifice is laughable compared to that of Christ, I believe the Lord honors the effort and intention just as Jesus honored the widow who give to the temple out of her poverty. So, we too give out of our poverty. There are of course, many times in which we fast out of desperation whether in mourning, repentance, or out of some other deep need. ‘Ordinary’ fasting forces us to ruminate on the act of putting Christ first in our lives. It is more than routine. It is more than even the act of abstaining. It is offering our very selves back to our Creator and Father. In this, we “present our bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is [our] spiritual worship.” (Romans 12:1)

VII.

Hewen’s - January

Gnarled roots, ancient, uphold

the banks--- muddy islands

wet with the slushy snow.

The drip of collapsing

ice crystals, always, in

the warming air. Fog lay

enthralled above the ice

---entropic illusion.

From the culvert, the rush

of lake fleeing southward

---persistent, eclipsing

flow; patient erosion

of wood and soil and stone;

enduring image of

inviolable love.