In Silence and Solitude
DECEMBER 19, 2019
The longer I reject silence and solitude based on being "more productive"; doing some other work, laboring in some other part of the vineyard of the Kingdom of God, the more I actually prolong my growth in the grace and knowledge of the Lord Jesus.
He has said “Martha, Martha,” and is not afraid to say, “Alex, Alex.”
In rejecting silence and solitude, I remain ignorant of the life that which God loves, sustains, and will one day glorify.
In silence and solitude, I am not retreating from the world or my responsibilities. Rather, I am becoming whole and thereby enabled to better love, serve, and engage those around me with an uncluttered soul.
In silence and solitude, I am not seeking to put my head in the clouds as much as I am seeking to get the clouds out of my head and my heart.
In silence and solitude, my primary objective is not to rattle off a list of requests as much as I am seeking to listen to the voice of my Tender Father. If there is a request made, it is simply, “Please, Abba, above everything, Help me hear you again.” Silence follows as I open the eyes and ears of my heart.
In silence and solitude, I get to know myself. My fears, my doubts, my sadness’s, and my feelings of happiness all surface. In silence and solitude, my emotions are acknowledged, my memory is redeemed, and my focus is regained.
In silence and solitude, I get to understand the life that God loves enough to save is my own and not a pretend or a future version of myself.
In silence and solitude, I remember all of my family and friends who have continually enriched my life and acknowledge that I owe each of them my sincerest expression of gratitude.
In silence and solitude, I learn that the busy and loud city of Seattle is no match for the “busy” and “loud” within me.
In silence solitude, I remember that I am more at home with Jesus than in Woodstock, Georgia, London, England, or Seattle, Washington.
In silence and solitude, I am reminded that I am not the sum total of my upbringing, my life choices, or the victim of certain things that have happened to me. In silence and solitude, I am confronted with the fact that God meets me solely on the grounds of his gut-wrenching, life-changing, soul-satisfying love.
In silence and solitude, I am not allowed to despise myself, roll my eyes, or nitpick my neighbor’s shortcomings. I am allowed to complain, but only with the cross nearby so as to couch my frustration in light of the forgiveness of my own sins.
In silence and solitude, I cut loose and drift away from performance-driven, people-pleasing, competitive religiosity. In this place, I learn to accept myself because the doctrine of justification by faith is real and final, and I can just be me.
In silence and solitude, I learn to give back to God that which is his, primarily, I give him myself.
In silence and solitude, I remember that just as Caesar’s face was on the coin, so God’s image rests on me, and that is all I’ll ever need.