It happened to me while watching TV. All it took was a
commercial about going back to school and the corresponding shopping that needed to be done –
pens, pencils, notebooks, folders (ok Michael, this is not 1987 here). Then it
hit. “Oh my gosh, I’ve gotta start preparing for next year!”
A certain anxiety set in. My eyes widened. My heart
seized in my chest. After all, there were strategic plans to be made, visions
to be cast, chapters to be written, urgencies to be addressed. The last year
brought a new job, a move, a new baby (still in utero), thousands of miles of travel, the beginning of a
doctoral dissertation, and a whole new world of possibilities between Young
Life and the Catholic Church. What would year number two bring? “Whatever it is, I better start
preparing!”
Then I was reminded that “very early in the morning, while
it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary
place, where he prayed” (Mk 1:35). Then I remembered the silent axis around which Jesus' active ministry whirled. Then I was reminded that ministry was not something
that I could manufacture through hard work but rather something discerned and received in
the quiet depths of my soul. Though my anxious heart was telling me otherwise,
somewhere I knew that feverish industry was not the answer. Not now at least.
The late Henri Nouwen once reflected:
Somewhere we know that without silence
words lose their meaning, that without listening speaking no longer heals, that
without distance closeness cannot cure.
Somewhere we know that without a lonely place our actions quickly become
empty gestures. The careful balance
between silence and words, withdrawal and involvement, distance and closeness,
solitude and community forms the basis of the Christian life and should
therefore be the subject of our most personal attention.[1]
In these final weeks of summer, what is it that you really
need? Do you need to spring into action and try to “get ahead” before the
onslaught of school and schedules, ministry and meetings, kids and calendars
start taking over? Or perhaps, just perhaps, God is calling you to slow down,
find a solitary place, and ask that simple yet powerful question, "Lord, what do YOU want of me this year?"
So stop. Listen. And embrace the still, small voice of
God. Pray with me. . .
Holy One,
there is something I
wanted to tell you
but there have been
errands to run,
bills to pay,
arrangements to make,
meetings to attend,
friends to entertain,
washing to do . . .
and I forget what it
is I wanted to say to you,
and mostly I forget
what I’m about,
or why.
O God,
don’t forget me,
please,
for the sake of Jesus
Christ . . .
O Father in Heaven,
perhaps you’ve already
heard what I wanted to tell you.
What I wanted to ask
is
forgive me,
heal me,
increase my courage,
please.
Renew in me a little
love and faith,
and a sense of
confidence,
and a vision of what
it might mean
to live as though you
were real,
and I mattered,
and everyone was
sister and brother.
What I wanted to ask
in my blundering way is
don’t give up on me,
don’t become too sad
about me,
but laugh with me,
and try again with me,
and I will with you,
too.
~Ted Loder Guerrillas of Grace[2]