It is quite common to suddenly "come to" in the middle of life and wonder where the time has gone. Sometimes a large chunk of time has passed without any real difference taking place overall. Months can pass by, and even years, and when that moment arrives we often wonder if, or when, something may change.
Inevitably, after the long season of sameness there will be a period of time where everything seems to shift, and sometimes the days will be packed fuller of life than previous months combined. I'm not talking about busyness. Activity does not equal progress. A rocking chair can produce a lot of movement but it usually stays in the exact same place at all times. I'm talking about those usually unexpected moments in time when something shifts and growth and discovery begin to pour in like running water. Sometimes those discoveries are unwanted. Sometimes that growth is wrecked with pain and jagged edges and seems like it's leading us straight into our death rather than anywhere near new life. And sometimes... that's exactly what it's doing, and what it was meant to do.
The last seven days have held more of this growth and discovery in my life than the previous four months combined. I set out on, for lack of a better phrase, a spiritual retreat in which I spent three days with literally no one but God. Contact with the outside world was temporarily deactivated and for 72 hours I closed myself up in a room and came out only for the bathroom (and also to put out a small fire, but hey, the house going up in flames is sort of an understood reason to momentarily leave the confines of my small space in order to be the hero... of the fire that I started... anyone see that episode of Boy Meets World? ok back on topic...) Contrary to rumors of insanity or psychosis when being in solitary confinement for three days in the 21st century, this was actually not very difficult, and was most definitely not boring. I didn't set out with an itinerary of how I would fill each minute, but I fell into a schedule after the first day that made me realize how little control I actually had over this time and how much I was really only responding to the One I was with.
Now the last thing I'm out to do in writing this blog is to make myself out to be this over-spiritual "humble" Christian who is willing to do what "no one else" is in order to be "holy"--extremely necessary quotation marks. I did not set out to do this with this blog post in mind. I set out to do this because I knew I was being invited into something and the honest truth is that I could not say no, I could not resist.
We all know what it's like to be going one way for a while when all of a sudden you realize that something's gotta give. This goes or I go. Either way, I'm not moving forward until something changes. And that's where I was. And last Sunday I knew this was next for me.
So Monday morning I turned off my phone and the internet and literally shut the door to the outside world. I don't consider myself "addicted" to technology. I don't mind going a decent amount of time off facebook and I certainly am familiar with the relaxation that can sometimes accompany the dying of a cell phone when away from its charger. Sometimes you just need peace. But I can readily admit that I felt like a smoker reaching for my cigarettes. The first day, every few hours a slight feeling would come over to me to reach for a device. Something that connected me to everything else out there. The thought wasn't conscious, I just felt this need rise up and then reality would surface, "oh right, I don't have that right now." The instinctual dependence that we have come to have upon connection within the ever-advancing age of technology really does battle with our connection with the Maker of the universe, whether we have an addiction to it or not.
I'm not going to sit here and say that I arrived at a higher plane of spirituality, nor was it the equivalent to Moses on Mt. Sinai face to face with God after which his face literally glowed. However, I will say that three straight days alone with nothing but my face in the Word of God, my knees on the floor, and my hands in the air translates to an experience with the Lord that transcends all knowledge about Him in a Sunday morning sermon. When I say "experience" I don't mean "sensation." I did not "feel" God in the room the way I felt that fire burn the tip of my index finger before I dropped it on the hallway floor. But it was not about the feelings or the sensations of each moment. By the second day I was realizing that it was about the succession of moments, the symphony being played out altogether, note by note, prayer by prayer, praise by praise. I was knowing Christ in the intimacy of relationship, and it was not all smiles and warm fuzzies. Some of my most powerful moments of praise and worship to Him in which He felt the nearest to me immediately led me straight into a sobbing session where I literally cried out to Him in anger and confusion and searing pain over life's circumstances that still overwhelm. My times of worship which held waves and floods of soul satisfaction in the truth of who He is to me were sometimes followed by lamenting over the curse of the flesh and the longings that still wage war against me, vying for my life. I'd like to say that I'm being dramatic or exaggerating some of these emotions, but I'm afraid I can't. With all my heart I sang to the Lord and plunged myself into the truth of His promises, only to lash out at Him for leaving me in my pain and feeling so abandoned by Him, then yet again proclaiming His identity and truth over my feelings, and then again sobbing out my hopelessness at His feet, feeling out the fullness of each emotion in each heartbeat. The two opposites can somehow coexist, and somehow it's ok because I just grit my teeth and He just holds the pain and I keep breathing and He keeps revealing, even if the throb is ever-present. Even in those moments where He seemed closer than I've ever experienced, a fleeting doubt could cross my mind asking if all this was even real.... does He even exist? Is He listening? Somehow the absolute truth can coexist with the presence of a lie. But I am commanded to take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ, and it is up to me what I choose to believe in those moments resulting in what seed will be sown in my mind in that moment, and that is all life is made up of--the sown seeds of each moment as they come to us. Every moment I sow a seed with whatever I give my attention to. The mindless distractions that we think are just meant for unwinding at the end of a long day... they are sown seeds. That TV show, that music, that youtube video, that thirty-seventh game of solitaire.... seeds sown. Are they terrible? They don't have to be. But when you spend three full days emptying and filling yourself--your mind, your thoughts, your heart--with the Living Word of God and giving Him praise, you realize all the empty seeds you've sown. No, I am not anti-technology, nor will I judge you if you play that thirty-eighth game of solitaire. But I might be a little sad for you. Not in a pitiful kind of way. But because I've known what it's like to spend hours "relaxing" with Words With Friends and SongPop at my fingertips, and now I've known what it's like to spend hours, days, receiving true rest in Christ.
Does all of this sound bipolar? A little messier than what we've preconceived in our minds a relationship with God should look like? All withstanding relationships are messy. The gospel is messy. Life is messy. Joy and sorrow. Laughter and tears. And everything in between.
If I were to sum up the crux of this experience into one lesson it would be this-- no matter the weight or the magnitude or the enormity of what faces me in this life... I must praise Him. I learned through this time, not by information but by experience, that this is not simply a command to obey... I must praise Him in order to attain any sense of true joy. In order to be happy. In order to bear up under the weight of life's most searing pain, I will not be sustained unless I give Him praise. For that is where all is set right. That is where truth overcomes and overwhelms the lies from the pit that are strangling abundant life out of us. I wrote this in my journal at the end of the first day:
Even if I sat in silence with a humble and reverent heart and never heard a word from the Lord, my offering of hope and expectation would not be in vain. I cannot come to Him in demand that He meet all my needs for the sake of my comfort--all is to be, first and foremost, for the sake of His glory and His holiness. It is not wasteful to offer up all of me to Him simply for the reason that He deserves it, He is Lord, I am not. To give myself over to Him is in itself--worship and glorification. He is not obligated beyond the point of receiving my offering. For it is simply in the giving of it that I can rest at ease. He wants nothing more from me. And after that, I have done what was worth it.
In my moments of purest and most sincere praise, I am doing what I was made to do at the most basic foundation of human existence--worship, giving Him glory. This is not something that will fully register with you simply by reading these words. We've all heard this before. But hear me in this: this is something that will not make complete sense until you have put it into action.
It's all about His praise. It's all about His glory. Give Him praise... and you will find the only true form of relief, comfort, and rest.
Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise--the fruit of lips that confess His name. --Hebrews 13:15
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