I’m on day 8 of 30 days of (mostly) silence, practicing the Ignatian Exercises under guidance from a spiritual director. I’m averaging about 6 hours of silence per day. Each day I spend time in meditation/contemplation on assigned Scriptures/readings, striving to encounter Father/Jesus/Counselor through them. Here are some observations:
- Silence is devalued. Some who ask me “What are you doing during you sabbatical?” respond with a well-that’s-a-waste-of-time expression when I explain that I’m pursuing God in silence. And those who are more understanding, still seem to have questions about my sanity. Silence? Thirty days? Rare is the person who’s responded with “How wonderful for you! I’ve always wanted to do that!” Write a book? Sure! Dig a water well in a foreign country? Absolutely! But silence? Not so much. (Except for the husband who recently told me, “You know, I think I’ll see if I can get my wife to take that vow of silence too.” 🙂 )
- Silence is elusive. A couple of days ago I was sitting on a bench in the morning at Memphis Botanic Garden. I was meditating. Within minutes a man sat down next to me, and two women accompanying him stood nearby carrying on a conversation (no, it wasn’t a vision of the Trinity). They were then joined by a flock of hissing and honking geese who thought the trio might have a mid-morning snack for them. That experience is pretty typical. Silence, even in quiet places, is tough to find.
- Silence costs. I’m practicing silence in the same city where I’ve ministered for 15 years. This means that I’m aware of some pastoral issues taking place in the lives of the members of my congregation. Each time I learn of one, I have to decide: Am I going to maintain my commitment to God in silence and trust the other staff/elders to handle this, or am I going to intervene? Thus far, I’ve opted for the former. But it’s a significant price.
- Silence brings out the demonic. I’m not one to find demons in every shadow. But I am aware that Satan and his powers are at work during this time. I believe he’s the one who’s stirred some of the interpersonal conflict which has disrupted the silence. I believe he’s the one responsible for the temptations I face to abandon this silence. And while he didn’t cause it, I believe he tried to use a downpour in Nashville to dissuade me. My silence began with a two-day silent retreat in Nashville. It rained almost no-stop the entire time, preventing me from doing much of what I had planned on doing. Tough way to start.
- Silence opens me to the divine. I can honestly say that I’ve never had richer experiences with Father/Jesus/Counselor than I’ve had during the past seven days. Some have been painful, as the Trinity have revealed to me the depth of my sin. Some have been overwhelmingly positive, as the Trinity have reaffirmed their love for me in fresh ways. Texts have come alive as never before. Minutes pass like seconds and hours like minutes as the silence deepens and God becomes more and more available to me.
- Silence benefits from direction. My spiritual director has been an invaluable guide during this time. We connect once a day. I recount the previous day with her, she asks lots of questions, and then she gives me direction for the next day. Sometimes the direction is to stay with the readings from the previous day. In fact, she had me stay with one reading for three days, sensing that I needed more from it than I was getting. Sometimes the direction is to move on to new texts-usually a Psalm and a text from the Gospels. She’s asked key questions and has provided perspective which has helped me make greater sense of what I’m experiencing each day.
Silent or not, I pray that your day today is filled with God.
