Nothingness
Have you ever had those days where you cannot think on one thing for too long? You end up staring out the window, clicking your pen fifty-five gazillion times, or surfing the internet and googling your name to see what comes up as response. I’m having one of those mornings this morning.
It makes it really difficult to post something on this blog. Some days, profundity just seems to skip by me. Try as I may, I find that words and thoughts just do not congeal as I type a sentence, erase it, type another, erase it, and begin to google my name once again.
In the nothingness I’ve noticed something. My mind does not do well without some menial task to occupy it. The idea of sitting still and allowing my thoughts to rest seems impossible. This has always been a struggle of mine.
I remember taking a course in college called Christian Spirituality. One of the teachers of the course was a Greek Orthodox monk, Father Michael. Greek Orthodoxy is a rude awakening to busy American Christianity. It stresses silence, contemplation and solitude. It stresses three things that just rub me the wrong way.
The goal of such silence and solitude is not to be quiet. Heck, it’s not even to be silent and alone. Instead, the goal of the silence is to hear the whisperings of the Holy Spirit. To know the voice of Jesus. To notice the promptings of the Father.
It reminds me of a story from the book of 1 Kings. In chapter 19 Elijah is fleeing for his life. Chapter 18 was a powerful encounter between Elijah and the prophets of Baal [a pagan god]. The chapter ends with the demise of the prophets of Baal. The king of queen of the land, Ahab and Jezebel, hear of the news. Jezebel wants Elijah killed. So Elijah retreats into the desert afraid for his life.
While in the desert, Elijah prays that his life might be taken before Jezebel and her crew finds him. The rest of the story goes like this:
The LORD said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by.” Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. Then a voice said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”
Magnificent acts of God are happening all around Elijah and God chooses the softest sounding means to convey His voice. The phrase for “gentle whisper” has other possible translations; a still small voice, a soft whisper, a sound of a gentle blowing, a sound of sheer silence, or the sound of a soft breath. This was a voice that Elijah instantly knew was God’s.
The question that God asked Elijah is one that we need to be asked ourselves. Do we ever pause long enough for the Lord to ask us a question? Do we ever pause long enough to sense the direction of His Spirit? Our lives are so busy with our stuff. Sadly, our Sunday mornings don’t show this kind of reflection and contemplation either. To pause for more than five minutes is like asking some to drink a strange poison.
A few weeks ago, my wife and I went out to Indiana. I was speaking at a retreat there for the weekend. On Saturday, I was scheduled to speak in the morning around 9. I wasn’t to speak again until that evening around 7. The rest of the time was for Allison and I. We had no television, no music, no internet, no computer…we were alone, together, naked of those things that normally occupy our time.
We noticed instantly how tired we both were. Without those things that have become a crutch to us, our bodies were screaming to get rest. We didn’t just want a nap, we needed a nap. We were a little uncomfortable without the creature comforts that we’ve learned to call home. Yet, at the same time, we were happy to just be together and not have these things clamoring for our attention.
Scripture seems to show great possibilities for what we call “nothingness”, those times on a Sunday morning where we have no music or sermon, the day-to-day opportunities to sit and journey with God, the times of silence. We have learned to depend entirely on something. Remove the -thing and we’re left alone, helpless, confused and lost.
Times of silence and solitude, reflection and contemplation, are opportunities not to find something but to find someone, namely, Jesus.
If your life is like my own, you are so busy that you find that you believe in Jesus but don’t really know Jesus. In our busyness we have no shortage of information on who Jesus is. But, I ask, what makes Jesus any different from other characters of history we study?
A few years ago, I had a spiritual mentor who would begin our times together with a painful question, “How have you experienced Jesus in the past week?” Almost 90% of the time I responded, “I don’t know.” How can you have a relationship with someone if you don’t know if, or when, you’ve spent time with them?
Maybe we’re all a little like Elijah. We’re running from things, running to things, trying to make sense of our busy, hectic, chaotic lives. We cry for God to give us loud, glaring signs of His presence. Maybe He’s speaking in a soft, quiet whisper that calls us to stop, listen, and focus on His will for our lives.
I hope that we will find the rest that God brought to Elijah, that we will stop whoring our lives out to things and people that will only let us down, and that we will pause, hear the voice in the stillness, and be asked by God, “What are you doing here?”
Tags: