Sermon on Solitude
Lent IIC- March 3-4, 2007
1 Kings 19:9-16; Matthew 14:22-27
Hillary West
In last Sunday’s newspaper there was an article quoting worried parents about the busy-ness of their teenage daughter’s life. It seems that this daughter comes home from school after a long day of classes and sports. She eats a light dinner and then makes her way to the basement.
Once in the basement she turns on the television, plugs her ipod into her ears, opens her cell phone to read the most recent text message, and then sits at her computer to do her homework.
There’s more. Her computer screen alerts her of instant messages while she’s surfing the net. She taps into MySpace to get the latest on her friends. And somehow, while all this is going on, she does her homework.
Her father is alarmed at the level of multi-tasking and wonders how she can pay attention. Her mother can’t go into the basement when her daughter is “doing her homework”. She can’t stand the stress of the levels of busy-ness. And yet, somehow this child maintains a 3.75 grade point average. Not what you want to hear, is it parents?!
We’re all surrounded by layers of noise and activity. We cloak ourselves in one commitment after another. We press ourselves in upon one another, searching for answers, craving intimacy.
So, we extend ourselves. We’re inviting and receptive. Our doors are always open. “Come in,” we say, “it’s good to see you…it’s great to talk with you…I’m so glad we’ve had a chance to visit…I’m looking forward to meeting again…you’re always welcome.”
We talk a talk that speaks of and encourages closeness. But, the truth is, in all of our efforts to fill space, many of us live with an inner emptiness, an unsettling unrest, a craving. For some of us, this is called loneliness.
We love. But, our love is conditional. We search and search and we can’t get to that place where it’s safe to be vulnerable. We embrace the emptiness of busy-ness with the hope that we’ll find some kind of peace and that we’ll be fully accepted, fully loved, without limitations. And in all of this cacophony of loneliness we cry out to know God.
Our state of loneliness can be so profound, so strong. And yet, it can serve as the vehicle for our oneness with God. St. John of the Cross calls this “the dark night of the soul”. That place where we move from anxiety and tension to loving responses and actions. It is in this desert place of loneliness that we travel on the road to conversion and to solitude. Our restlessness propels us into a journey that sets us free, and promises us peace in our hearts and a closer relationship with God.
Moving from loneliness to solitude requires courage, courage to be open and vulnerable, courage to change; and faith in accepting that we can be converted from the desert of loneliness to the garden of solitude.
You may remember last week Paul starting us off with our Lenten series on Spiritual Disciplines. Spiritual Disciplines are for everyone. In fact, the best road to take in applying Spiritual Disciplines may well be with with those closest to us, our spouse, our coworkers, our siblings and friends.
We need not have any theological or biblical expertise to undergo Spiritual Disciplines. The only requirement we need to meet to undergo Spiritual Disciplines is a deep longing to be closer to God; a desire to live in communion with God.
Jesus was the master of Spiritual Disciplines. Last week you learned about simplicity, a characteristic that we would certainly apply to Jesus who cautions us to live a simpler life. And that is why you see the worship space simplified.
Today we’re going to talk about solitude. Solitude is inner fulfillment; a restful spirit within us. Solitutde is the time we intentionally take to be completely alone with God. When we truly quiet ourselves and open up to hear the divine whisper; when we move from anxiety to love and peace.
In solitude we see more clearly the very goodness that God intends. Through solitude we encounter an inward freedom with God that enables us to look at one another directly and see the face of God. Solitude enables us to stop; not to separate ourselves from our community. But, rather to know that the space between others and ourselves is holy ground drawing us into even deeper commitment with one another.
Throughout Jesus’ ministry he seeks out places of solitude. Just after his baptism he retreats to the desert. Before he calls his 12 disciples, he spends the night alone in the hills. After receiving the news of John the Baptist’s death he retreats by boat. He feeds the 5,000 and then, alone, climbs the mountain to pray. He heals the sick and cures the lame. He preaches. Then, he withdraws to a deserted place, once again, to pray. In the garden of Gethsemane he prays over and over and comes away with resolve and acceptance, “the hour is at hand”. He sets a pattern.
Jesus is about doing the work of the kingdom. But, not without intentionally feeding his soul. Not without replenishing his well through communion with God. Then he returns to the crowds only to offer more, more healing, more teaching and preaching, more love. He models for us the comings and goings of the spiritual discipline of solitude.
Solitude is not without silence. Silence is two fold. First we’re called to the absence of speech – to simply stop talking. The author of the letter of James reminds us that seldom, when we speak do we not make a mistake. We’re told that “From the same mouth come blessing and cursing”.
Richard Foster, in his book, The Celebration of Discipline, calls the tongue a thermostat. It regulates our spiritual temperature. If we use enough words, then we think we can convince people of who we’re supposed to be, not who we really are. The more we explain, the more we feel we have to self-justify. Silence reminds us that the only justifier we need to be concerned about is God. In our true silence, we can unearth the very words when needed.
The other side of silence is attentive listening. It means opening our hearts and paying attention to our inner self. We lend our ear to God and we find that God speaks. In true listening we push past the inner noise and dive deep within ourselves, encountering the God within us. We emerge not restless, but restful, able to affectionately and lovingly listen to the words of others, and able to offer ourselves as selfless agents in building the kingdom of God.
This week I was fortunate enough to take a day of silence. Thank you for giving me the opportunity. What joy it is to spend a day just listening for the sounds of God. I walked and walked, prayed the stations of the cross, meditated through a Labyrinth, rocked myself to sleep in prayer in front of warm fire and quietly just shut down. The quieter I became, the more I was able to hear and see. Speech became unnecessary. Did I have some profound revelation of God’s presence in my life? Not really.
But, the change of pace did remind me of God’s constant attention to every minute of my every day. My heart warmed as I rested in solitude as the avalanche of God’s love came pouring down upon me.
We can’t always take a day of silence. Most of us can’t just retreat to the mountain top or to the desert to restore our relationship with God. We live in a noisy and busy world. We have obligations and responsibilities that require us to be present in voice and action. Our challenge is, how to find the calm of solitude in the midst of our crowds and confusion.
A discipline is a training that results in a change of behavior. Action is required. A Spiritual Discipline is that journey we take that brings us into a deeper awareness of God so that we may live in the world as God intends. So, in the discipline of solitude, what steps do we take?
First, look for the tiny moments of solitude in our every day. Do you cherish that first cup of coffee in the first moments of the day before the quiet vanishes? Mid day, before we take the next phone call, rush to the soccer game or track meet, or run to the grocery store, stop, if only for a moment. Listen to the wind, the birds, the gentle silence. There lies the Divine Whisper. When night, finally arrives, step out into the darkness. Don’t say a word. Just take it in. Sometimes, the dark is aglow with the peace of God.
Find “quiet places”. Where in your home is that tiny space that can be your sanctuary? Or, do you need to withdraw to another quiet place: the library, the park, church? Listen, Richard Foster says, “to the thunder of God’s silence.”
Pray the Bible. Where to start? Make praying the Psalms a regular discipline for a while. Seek out the mystery and wonder of how God reaches out to us when we are in our deepest need and celebrating our greatest joys.
Be like Jesus. Retreat, step away. Take these times to unearth the quiet within us. There lies God in our solitude heightening our compassion and sensitivity to one another. Thomas Merton observes that it is in deep solitude that we find the gentleness with which we can truly love one another. That the more solitary we are, the more affection we have for our brothers and sisters in Christ.
In solitude we can stop and just for a moment and imagine what it’s like for God to gaze upon us. And maybe for that moment we can glimpse how God sees us, aglow with his love, “walking around shining like the sun.”
Will you come into a moment of solitude with me? Just for a moment. Sit straight in your chair with your feet planted firmly on the floor. Close your eyes if you’re comfortable doing so. Place your hands palms down on your knees. Now, put right in the forefront of your thoughts that thing or those things that you are worried about. What has you troubled? This is only between you and God so put it out there. In your moment of solitude, in your heart, bring your burden to the table and place it there for Jesus. When you’re ready, turn your palms up and welcome God’s love and mercy for yourself. Now, sit with God:
Be still and know that I am God.
Be still and know.
Be still.
Be. |
