I mean, I am terrified of it. That can be seen by the title of this blog-- transforming in community. I do not enjoy transforming all by myself.
However, I do have this inner longing to be closer with God. Everyone does.
The thought of practicing this discipline was the most terrifying for me. But now, as I have practiced it and given it some thought, I have left it with a sense of inner peace I have not felt in-- well, maybe my whole life. In some ways, I wish I was still alone, instead of being in a house full of people as I type this on my laptop. So, let me give you a run-down on what I did week's spiritual practice.
Mode of practice: walk around Reeds Lake; a path that is a little over 4 miles long. Alone.
Equipment: Underarmour shirt-1. Warm sweatshirt-1. Outer shell-1. Wool socks-2. Ski hat-1. Scarf, wrapped numerous times around ears, neck and chin-1. Cozy gloves-2. iPod- none. Cellphone- silent. Car keys- 1 set.
As I walked, all I did was think. Well, sometimes I thought. Sometimes I just rested and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
I had no life-altering revelations, but that was not what I was going for here (I've learned throughout the course of this semester that these disciplines require repeated practice if we truly want to have deep growth happen inside of us). Instead, I have a few observations for you.
Observation 1: I can't be silent.
I really can't. When I am alone, I usually sing to myself. Or talk to myself. I tried really, really hard to stay quiet so I wouldn't distract myself. A few times, the words of a song would spit themselves out of my mouth, but after I realized what I was doing, I stopped again. Not that I think there is anything wrong with talking. However, I found the silence to be invigorating. I didn't want to disrupt it. The only words I spoke the whole time I was alone were while I was in the car, after my walk. A driver committed a certain driving violation, and, in my snarky way, I had to tell her off in the safety of my own car. I was a little disappointed in myself that all I had to say was something negative, but there you go. I am depraved.
Observation 2: There is always a rhythm.
As I walked, my shoes pounded out a slow, steady beat. And, since I always have at least one song running through my head, the beat kept the song going. As soon as I began walking the trail, the words to "I Surrender All" came into my head. For a full hour and a half I repeated over and over, "All to Jesus, I surrender. All to him I freely give. I will ever love and trust Him; in his presence daily live. I surrender all. All to thee, my blessed Savior. I surrender all." So, as I walked, I surrendered it all. Something I noticed about this process was that as I surrendered, I was comforted. By this point in my walk, I was completely zoned in on me and Jesus. I was not allowing myself to stress about anything else. So as I surrendered, I did not worry about what God would do. I didn't even manufacture the feeling of contentment that I sometimes do. I genuinely gave it to him. And instead of feeling out of control and anxious, I felt free.
Observation 3: Snow.
It snowed. So very much. And no matter which direction I was walking, somehow the snow managed to always be flying directly in my face. But that is not the point. I noticed as I walked that the snowflakes were falling perfectly-- I could see each six-pointed shape as it cascaded down from the sky. Each one would rest on the path for a moment, and then disappear. I put my hands out in front of me and caught a snowflake. A perfect one. I let it rest on my glove for a solid three minutes. I must have looked like a complete lunatic to the few cars that drove by-- walking slowly, staring intently at my glove. But I didn't care. I was amazed at the tiny crystal in my hand. I felt like it was my duty to protect this little guy from danger. After I turned the snowflake over and over in my hand, I decided it was time to say goodbye. I breathed on it, once, twice, three times, ever so gently. And it slowly, peacefully, melted away. A few minutes later, as I stared up in the sky, a sense of the wonder at creation overwhelmed me and I felt myself begin to cry. I let the emotion roll over me and through me and around me until all I could feel was awe. Our God is amazing and beautiful.
Observation 4: Sounds
I heard my footsteps, my breathing, the rustle of my coat. I heard the wind whip through the trees. I heard the heavy snowflakes fall on the pavement. I heard cars drive by. I heard people talking. I heard police sirens. I heard a squirrel romping through crunchy leaves. I heard the leaves crinkle on the pathway.I heard it all, and closed my eyes, so I could hear more. It amazing how many sounds you can find when you are being silent.
Observation 5: It wasn't as bad as I thought.
I didn't want it to end. That is, until I reached the three mile mark and the snow really started pelting my face. I couldn't see, I was freezing cold and my foot kind of hurt. But I wanted to remain in the silence. I wanted to keep being alone with God. We talked; although I mostly talked. And sometimes we were quiet together, but God was there the whole time. I was afraid to go into the world and be distracted from the connection I had with God while I was alone with Him. I'm managing, but I look forward to practicing this discipline again.
And those are my observations. Maybe not profound or life-altering, but they are real. Ultimately, I learned the value of solitude and silence. Hopefully I can begin to translate this practice into my everyday life; finding ways to be alone with God even when I'm not all alone on a sidewalk being attacked by a snowstorm.
Peace to you,
Sara Joy
However, I do have this inner longing to be closer with God. Everyone does.
The thought of practicing this discipline was the most terrifying for me. But now, as I have practiced it and given it some thought, I have left it with a sense of inner peace I have not felt in-- well, maybe my whole life. In some ways, I wish I was still alone, instead of being in a house full of people as I type this on my laptop. So, let me give you a run-down on what I did week's spiritual practice.
Mode of practice: walk around Reeds Lake; a path that is a little over 4 miles long. Alone.
Equipment: Underarmour shirt-1. Warm sweatshirt-1. Outer shell-1. Wool socks-2. Ski hat-1. Scarf, wrapped numerous times around ears, neck and chin-1. Cozy gloves-2. iPod- none. Cellphone- silent. Car keys- 1 set.
As I walked, all I did was think. Well, sometimes I thought. Sometimes I just rested and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
I had no life-altering revelations, but that was not what I was going for here (I've learned throughout the course of this semester that these disciplines require repeated practice if we truly want to have deep growth happen inside of us). Instead, I have a few observations for you.
Observation 1: I can't be silent.
I really can't. When I am alone, I usually sing to myself. Or talk to myself. I tried really, really hard to stay quiet so I wouldn't distract myself. A few times, the words of a song would spit themselves out of my mouth, but after I realized what I was doing, I stopped again. Not that I think there is anything wrong with talking. However, I found the silence to be invigorating. I didn't want to disrupt it. The only words I spoke the whole time I was alone were while I was in the car, after my walk. A driver committed a certain driving violation, and, in my snarky way, I had to tell her off in the safety of my own car. I was a little disappointed in myself that all I had to say was something negative, but there you go. I am depraved.
Observation 2: There is always a rhythm.
As I walked, my shoes pounded out a slow, steady beat. And, since I always have at least one song running through my head, the beat kept the song going. As soon as I began walking the trail, the words to "I Surrender All" came into my head. For a full hour and a half I repeated over and over, "All to Jesus, I surrender. All to him I freely give. I will ever love and trust Him; in his presence daily live. I surrender all. All to thee, my blessed Savior. I surrender all." So, as I walked, I surrendered it all. Something I noticed about this process was that as I surrendered, I was comforted. By this point in my walk, I was completely zoned in on me and Jesus. I was not allowing myself to stress about anything else. So as I surrendered, I did not worry about what God would do. I didn't even manufacture the feeling of contentment that I sometimes do. I genuinely gave it to him. And instead of feeling out of control and anxious, I felt free.
Observation 3: Snow.
It snowed. So very much. And no matter which direction I was walking, somehow the snow managed to always be flying directly in my face. But that is not the point. I noticed as I walked that the snowflakes were falling perfectly-- I could see each six-pointed shape as it cascaded down from the sky. Each one would rest on the path for a moment, and then disappear. I put my hands out in front of me and caught a snowflake. A perfect one. I let it rest on my glove for a solid three minutes. I must have looked like a complete lunatic to the few cars that drove by-- walking slowly, staring intently at my glove. But I didn't care. I was amazed at the tiny crystal in my hand. I felt like it was my duty to protect this little guy from danger. After I turned the snowflake over and over in my hand, I decided it was time to say goodbye. I breathed on it, once, twice, three times, ever so gently. And it slowly, peacefully, melted away. A few minutes later, as I stared up in the sky, a sense of the wonder at creation overwhelmed me and I felt myself begin to cry. I let the emotion roll over me and through me and around me until all I could feel was awe. Our God is amazing and beautiful.
Observation 4: Sounds
I heard my footsteps, my breathing, the rustle of my coat. I heard the wind whip through the trees. I heard the heavy snowflakes fall on the pavement. I heard cars drive by. I heard people talking. I heard police sirens. I heard a squirrel romping through crunchy leaves. I heard the leaves crinkle on the pathway.I heard it all, and closed my eyes, so I could hear more. It amazing how many sounds you can find when you are being silent.
Observation 5: It wasn't as bad as I thought.
I didn't want it to end. That is, until I reached the three mile mark and the snow really started pelting my face. I couldn't see, I was freezing cold and my foot kind of hurt. But I wanted to remain in the silence. I wanted to keep being alone with God. We talked; although I mostly talked. And sometimes we were quiet together, but God was there the whole time. I was afraid to go into the world and be distracted from the connection I had with God while I was alone with Him. I'm managing, but I look forward to practicing this discipline again.
And those are my observations. Maybe not profound or life-altering, but they are real. Ultimately, I learned the value of solitude and silence. Hopefully I can begin to translate this practice into my everyday life; finding ways to be alone with God even when I'm not all alone on a sidewalk being attacked by a snowstorm.
Peace to you,
Sara Joy
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