When we stand too close to a forest, we only see the trees, and not the grand surround of the place they are set into. We lose something. We become aware of the individual tree, but senseless to its’ larger purpose in composing an entire woods. To garner a feeling and a full sense of any landscape, we must step back and pause.
Now! Now the trees are only part of the composition—a small but necessary detail without which the landscape would be empty.
The same applies to life. Mowing grass, by itself, can seem like a futile, useless act. But when seen as a necessary piece of family life—an act of loving care bestowed on the place where we live, it takes on a different hue.
Most of life is small: small acts of kindness, simple touches of humor, a handshake, an unexpected smile, changing the oil. Small. But not insignificant. The multitude of small acts we all do daily can take on a new importance when we step aside and get a fresh perspective on them.
A retreat, of any size and length, makes way for perspective to shimmy into shape. Instead of steamrolling ahead with doing and more doing, we stop long enough to ask “Why”? We sit back and take a deep breath and carve out different aspects of our life to examine and question and often to recalibrate. Seen from a porch swing or a walking path, our life choices dance to a different drummer. We see options we hadn’t taken time to notice. We unearth “back doors” and future possibilities we simply hadn’t noticed. Our forward-moving life had trampled ahead relentlessly, pushed by a thousand invisible forces. Stop was not what we did—not in our vocabulary or our belief system. Pause was a word on the remote. Think was the title of a book. Reflect was plainly out of the question.
But quiet retreating opens space for all these to happen. In order not to stumble over our own lives, we must, eventually, stop. We must pause. And we have to have time to think about and reflect on our decisions, our directions, and our choices. Because life is composed of all these, it is imperative to collect ourselves regularly and ask “Why”?
I often divide the circle of my life in pie-shaped sections, and label them: friendships, spiritual growth, ministry, occupation, family, and so forth. I ask how much of my energy is expended on each one and decide if that should change. I pray as I go, for God’s wisdom and direction to cover my own, flawed sense. I ask Him to reveal where I’m off course, and where I’m anchored when I should be full steam ahead, and vice versa. We talk about the “trees” in my personal forest—the small acts that compose the whole picture.
On retreat time, I ask God to shake the dust out of my thinking and clean off my glasses and put my shoes on the right feet. I can see better on retreat, and my hearing is sharper. God never fails to correct my course through the Word or the still small voice. He rises up as Mighty Counselor and during this time, He becomes my Prince of Peace.
Life presents itself to all of us in blips and sound bites and unfinished short stories. It remains for us to make sacred sense of it all—to review our paths and open ourselves to correction and re-routing if need be. Retreat time does exactly that. It’s our personal red light on an expressway, our stop sign at a crossroads, our oasis in a desert. We step back and see where we’ve come and where we’re going, and why. Retreat time is a gift we give ourselves, our mates, our families, and our friends.
Life is not a load we carry alone, unless we choose to. God longs to be integrated into each decision and choice. He will never leave us, but He won’t intrude where He’s not invited. His searing love always waits.
Any life lived to the brim will include times of detour from the main road. Lives of worth and wisdom have always included times of aloneness where life is sorted out and questioned and understood.
I gather time each morning. Companioned by candlelight and sometimes soft music, and coffee, a journal and a Bible, I meet with the Lord, and feel His imprint on my soul. I meditate on Him, pray to Him, keep still before Him, and become aware of His subtle actions in my heart. I speak my concerns, ask for help, admit sin, voice my pain, and sing. I do not “study” the Bible, but allow it to study me. I drink from the well of it and let it speak. Many believers call it “quiet time” or “devotions”. Whatever the term, it is sacred time where heart and soul rise to meet the living God and the furniture of life is rearranged ever so slightly, day by day, in surprising ways.
During the month, I arrange for a day away in a nearby retreat house. Occasionally, I stay overnight. We each know instinctively how much time we need.
Retreat, then. See your world as God sees it and reflects it back to you.
Perspective will happen.
*********************************************
This is another chapter from Linda Andersen's soon to be published book on SILENT RETREATS. If you are unfamiliar with the concept of retreating, you can check out my journal post to read about them: http://www.cafemom.com/journals/read/1057255/WHAT_S_THE_POINT
http://www.cafemom.com/journals/read/1006624/WHAT_IS_A_SILENT_RETREAT
The purpose of posting her writing is to get feedback from readers, so please tell us what you think, and I will forward your messages on to her! Thanks so much
Comments:
A couple sections of this chapter is so affirming and helpful. I will put my comments on them in red so you will know why.
I often divide the circle of my life in pie-shaped sections, and label them: friendships, spiritual growth, ministry, occupation, family, and so forth. I ask how much of my energy is expended on each one and decide if that should change. I pray as I go, for God’s wisdom and direction to cover my own, flawed sense. I ask Him to reveal where I’m off course, and where I’m anchored when I should be full steam ahead, and vice versa. We talk about the “trees” in my personal forest—the small acts that compose the whole picture. This is an important example if we are to call Jesus Lord and not give lip service. The pie chart is so me. How important it is though to lay it before God and ask Him for His thoughts, intents, and purposes on them.
I gather time each morning. Companioned by candlelight and sometimes soft music, and coffee, a journal and a Bible, I meet with the Lord, and feel His imprint on my soul. I meditate on Him, pray to Him, keep still before Him, and become aware of His subtle actions in my heart. I speak my concerns, ask for help, admit sin, voice my pain, and sing. I do not “study” the Bible, but allow it to study me. I drink from the well of it and let it speak. Many believers call it “quiet time” or “devotions”. Whatever the term, it is sacred time where heart and soul rise to meet the living God and the furniture of life is rearranged ever so slightly, day by day, in surprising ways. Here, she paints a picture of what a precious time this is with the Lord. When I read the words I do not study the Bible, but allow it to study me, my heart leaped. As Christians, we can be so easily tempted to idolized the Bible. Dont get me wrong, Bible studies are fine. But our time with Him should be at a whole new level. When we approach the Word as Himself, then we are back to placing all of our focus on the Object of our affection. He longs for this sort of intimacy with us. Amazing, but true.
There is a sweet, sweet Spirit to this book.
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