“Did you have your quiet time?”
Church leaders taught me this question when I was a freshman in a campus ministry. It was offered as the way to measure the depth of my connection with God. If I spent 30 minutes in private Bible study, and another 30 in intercessory prayer, I would be close to God. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t.
This was helpful.
It provided me, a Christian of only two years, a concrete and measurable plan. I didn’t know how to deepen by walk with God. Here was a way. The way.
But it was also hurtful.
I found that I could go through the quiet time motions and still not engage my heart. Life with God sometimes became mechanized. A routine rather than a relationship.
Worse, even when performed genuinely, my quiet time often left me wanting. Longing for the sense of God’s closeness that only came when I took long walks in the pine forests at home or through the Rio Grande desert near campus. Craving the feeling of God’s presence that only came when I listened to Christian music playing loudly in my car.
But those long walks or listening to music didn’t “count.” They weren’t quiet times. They weren’t the way.
Gary Thomas, in Sacred Pathways, proposes that my experience is common. Churches have a long history of identifying one habit, one practice, as the way to an enriched relationship with God. Rather than leading to peace and joy, however, this leads to shame and guilt.
I know a woman who frequently shamed herself because she didn’t pray in the way prescribed by her church leaders. That is, she didn’t write a list of people in a notebook that she worked through methodically, interceding for a specific subset of her list every morning. Each time we met for spiritual direction, she asked, “I don’t think I’m praying the right way, am I?” She never seemed comfortable praying her way rather than her church’s way.
When a way to God becomes adopted as the way to God, it often produces shame because it can fail to connect meaningfully with a person’s temperament or spiritual bent.
Jesus reveals a different perspective. Jesus leaned into multiple pathways to divine connection. He united with God by attending corporate worship services at a synagogue (Luke 4). He experienced God by withdrawing to desolate places for prayer (Luke 5). Jesus had a custom of going to the Mount of Olives/ Gethsemane and leaning into God’s presence there (Lk. 22). His moments with God included supernatural events such as those at his Transfiguration (Matt. 17). Sometimes Jesus pursued spirituality in company with others (Lk. 22) and sometimes alone (Lk. 5).
Gary Thomas proposes there isn’t just one way–there at least nine ways. Naturalists love God outdoors. Sensates love God with their senses. Traditionalists love God through ritual and symbol. Ascetics love God in solitude and simplicity. Activists love God through confrontation. Caregivers love God by loving others. Enthusiasts love God through mystery and celebration. Contemplatives love God through adoration. Intellectuals love God with the mind.
You can take an online assessment HERE to see which pathway is/ pathways are yours. The benefit of this way of considering spirituality is that it leads to freedom, joy and true renewal. Those pathways that seem most closely tied to your own temperament can be yours to lean into. And those that aren’t can be affirmed by you when you see them in others. They also act as “stretch” areas in which you can grow by trying them on every once in awhile.
“Did you have your quiet time?” is no longer the right question. Instead, grow comfortable with a much wider array of questions: Have you taken a walk? Have you gazed at some sacred art? Did you pray through a psalm today? Did you find solitude this week? Did you call out injustice in your community? Did you bring a meal to someone in need? Did you write a love poem to God? Did you explore the doctrine of justification?
