Reflections on Silence

The discipline for this week was "silence and awareness of creation." Although Smith puts this discipline at the front of his book, ancient spiritual writers thought of silence (or stillness) as one of the higher-order disciplines, and thus placed it near the end of their manuals. We need not see any contradiction in this, but I think it speaks to a deeper meaning about silence that I'd like to explore.

Silence, to the ancient mind, is a peculiar word called "hesychia." It only appears 4 times in the NT. Once in Acts 22:2 where it communicates a state of preparedness to hear a message, once in 2 Thess 3:12 where it is contrasted (ironically) with idleness and describes the ability to function successfully, and twice in 2 Tim. 2 where it describes a woman's proper place in the assembly (which, by the way, ought to make us re-think this passage, in light of the particular word being used there for 'silence'...).

Being silent, then, means more than just not talking. It means to communicate a stillness of soul--one immune from the constant distractions that disintegrate our lives. Our current media trains us for a different kind of life than that of stillness. Just watch television for 30 minutes. Count the amount of "cuts" a producer makes in any given TV show. I've counted 200+ in just 30 minutes of TV. The idea is that we would get bored with any single, sustained shot--and that if the shot switches, its like the same show is new all over again. But its not that we are just naturally need that much stimulation to maintain interest (though we are certainly inclined to flee boredom like the plague). It's that we are conditioned to function that way.


This kind of life disintegrates us, causes us to be agents of chaos--never settling on any one thing, always just touching the surface of a thousand different things. We never become much of anything. Contrary to this life, Christianity has maintained a tradition of stillness as one of our highest goods. We do so on the pretense that God's presence is found in this stillness, and our spiritual growth is thus brought about and sustained in this stillness.

I struggle just as much as anybody not only to keep up extended times in stillness (not to mentioned focused work in general), but even to begin times of stillness. Its not the kind of thing my fallen body really loves to do, even though I have never regretted it. So allow me to conclude with some thoughts from one of my favorite spiritual writers on silence as an exhortation and teaching for myself and the community:

"The beginning of stillness is to throw off all noise as disturbing for the depth [of the soul]. And the end of it is not to fear disturbances but to remain insensible to them. He, who in actually going out does not go out, is gentle and wholly a house of love. He is not easily moved to speech, and he cannot be moved to anger. The opposite of this is obvious."

"A friend of stillness is a courageous and decisive thought that keeps constant vigil at he doors of the heart, and kills or repels the thoughts that come. He who practices silence with perception of heart will understand this last remark; but he who is yet a child is unaware and ignorant of it."

- From The Ladder of Divine Ascent (by St. John Climacus)

Trustworthy God

We write or tell the story of our life as victors or victims. If we tell our story as the victim, then life is a series of disappointments and trials that have left us discouraged. Somehow in the matrix of the story, our virtue has met an unkind God who failed to bless—who seemed out of the loop when our neck was in one.

If we tell our story as the victor, then life is still a series of disappointments and trials, but they have left us encouraged. In the victor story, the trials are the same, but we see ourselves joined by God who is faithful and true. How can it be that the victim and the victor receive the same life yet experience it so differently? One can see God more clearly than the other.

We are invited in this chapter to shed the false God stories and embrace the God's story of Jesus. Perhaps the preaching series we are in at UA allows us to hear Smith's analysis of the Lord's Prayer. The Lord's Prayer tells what we should think about God:

God is near—present.
God is holy—pure.
God rules—powerful.
God cares—provides.
God forgives—pardons.
God rescues—protects.

Jesus gives us a good God narrative. If we allow this Jesus story of God to enter our story, then we will see God obviously active in our lives. We will not have to focus on our predicaments since we are living in God's providence. We will see God at work in so many ways. Even if He has not yet acted in direct response to the need we think most pressing, we will see that God is acting with great power and love in many other arenas of our life. Smith says that some of the ways God is working without our bidding may be more significant than what we think God should be doing for us.

So let us choose to leave victim life and its predicaments for victor life in the providence of our trustworthy God.

Broken Bodies

I appreciated Smith's language about his daughter when he said, "she finally rested her tired body" (or something to that effect, I don't have the book with me). It reminds of several people I know, one of whom is my wife, whose bodies just don't work right. In many respects they experience life as the ups and downs of pain. One day they may feel closer to normal, how they used to feel before, and other days its just a constant struggle to maintain.

There is a certain trend in theological circles to view salvation primarily as a this-worldly kind of thing. I'm really all for that, that's kind of what we're doing when we're reading a book about spiritual disciplines: learning how to be saved, through the work of the Holy Spirit, from our own this-worldly brokenness. But usually when I hear or read something from this persuasion it is at the expense of past other-worldly salvation ideals. Those old ideas about one day going to heaven sound too much like escapism, quietism, and a host of other problems that we could do without today.

But as I encounter people with broken bodies, whose bodies never give them a chance to feel normal; whose bodies stop them from feeling pretty, stop them from feeling capable, stop them from feeling like they can do anything else but survive...as I continue to see this in the elderly and young alike, I believe that the promise of heaven where are bodies are made new is not such a bad idea.

Heaven is a part of God's justice in an vulnerable world. We are made vulnerable: vulnerable to sin, vulnerable to diseases, vulnerable to powers that could care less about us. Many of us will not experience any recompense for this vulnerability and the evils that result from it. Part of God's justice has to be in a Heaven where our bodies are pulled out of the wreckage, held, loved, and made new.

I have this hope for Sierra, and I think its part of God's love and justice to share this hope with those whose bodies and lives are broken. Not in a condescending or thoughtless way, but as the hope that we will all experience the comfort in another world that our lives never afforded us in this one.

Play it again Sam

I've been thinking about how easy it is to go through my daily routine without much awareness. I can get so focused in on what I have to do that day or that week, that I can bypass most every detail that doesn't concern my to do list. I'm learning that it's often a protection for me. I very much identify with what Eddie shared yesterday, the noise and busyness helps us avoid the questions and fears that come up when we're alone.

This morning we had some study/prayer time as a staff, and I was reminded how even my noticing / awareness can become a distraction, a place to hide. What I mean is that it's easy for me to notice something, to think I have it figured out, and thus don't have to think about it anymore. Whether that's how pretty a flower is, the song of a bird, or the point of one of Jesus' parables, I've got it. That is, until something happens...like it did last week for me.

And I'm exposed. I haven't been noticing, I've been checking things off a list. I'm not aware of God's goodness, I'm expecting Him to bless me and do His part while I do mine. The "God is an angry judge" narrative that I thought I'd put behind me rears it's ugly head once again.

And yet:

"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,
His mercies never come to an end.
They are new every morning, great is Thy faithfulness." Lamentations 3:22-23

Once again I hear the Spirit calling me back into His presence, to be silent and still and listen. To be reminded that even nature speaks to the reality that God is good, and no matter what we face, He is with us. Thank you Lord for the grace to learn again what you've shown me so many times, increase my faith and transform me from the inside out.

Dealing with the Noise of Silence

The training exercise for reflecting on the goodness of God is silence. For a borderline extrovert, multi-tasking ball of distraction like me, silence ihas not been seen as a blessing and benefit. When I was a kid, being sent to my room was punishment. Losing my radio or television privileges was punishment. I recharge in noise—or, perhaps, I hide in noise.

I have begun to think that my frenetic nature gives my fears and flaws their hiding place. In the distraction, I find a pseudo-comfort—a false peace. So when I hear: "Be still and know that I am God," I want to counteroffer and ask God if I can meet him in the storm, walk to him on rolling waves, come to him in chaos…and sometimes he meets me in just those places. Still—

Still, there waits a better place to meet God. God waits in the silence of the early morning. God waits in the night, offering a better bedtime blessing than Leno and Letterman can muster. God waits in the solitude of wilderness, the quietness of isolation. This is a very difficult discipline for me because in silence and solitary communion with God, the persons I fear most show up-Satan and myself. Satan shows up to accuse me. I show up with all of my imperfections-the ways I have disappointed myself and others laid bare. The noise of silence is composed of the sound of my busyness and the sound of the evil prosecuting attorney railing against me. Is it noisy like that for you, too?

So my wife Annette tells me to wait in faith through the noise. It will diminish. God will wait for it to subside. Satan will withdraw. The din of the world will quieten. But, she says, the noise comes first. To get to the silence, we must sit with and outlast the noise in faith until the rowdiness of life stills and the devil's charges are overwhelmed by the assurance of grace. It will come. Let us go to the silence.

In The Deep, Dark Place of Our Pain and Sorrow

In chapter two of The Good and Beautiful God, we are invited to think about the problem of evil in the world. Smith's story of the death of his daughter clears our illusions that he does not know enough about loss to feel the contradiction between the goodness of God and the evil in the world.

We know that tension, too. I have stumbled across cemeteries after doing the funerals of babies. My eyes were too filled with tears and my heart of full of pain to walk. I have stood in the viewing room with the wife and family of my best friend with him laid in state in a fine casket. I have held my wife's hand as she went into surgery with questions about her cancer and have held her in my arms after the surgery when all of the pathology was so dark and negative. And my experiences are not as dark and desperate as some. Probably not as difficult as yours as you read this.

Into this same world of pain and faithful doubt, Jesus has a word that we hear in this chapter. Jesus says in Luke 13 that bad people do bad things and that the physics of the world makes accidents possible. Neither of these circumstances argue against the goodness of God. From John 9 Jesus teaches that difficult circumstances are often unrelated to human sin, but do offer the opportunity for the power and love of God to be displayed. The easy equation that sin creates pain and trouble is sometimes correct; but not nearly always. Beware of simple, wrong answers to life's questions.

Here is what we know and pin our hopes on:
God is good-always.
Jesus intercedes for us-always.
The Holy Spirit prays what is unprayable out of us-always.
God will make all things right in due time-for sure.

In the deep, dark place of our pain and sorrow shines the light of God's goodness.
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases. I believe; help my unbelief.

Spiritual Exercises

So, Sarah and I run 5 times a week.  So far we've run 2 half marathons and one 10K and are looking at some more races to run in the future.  I have come to understand very well the value of exercise in my physical and emotional life.

However, when I hear about spiritual exercise (or spiritual discipline) my mind immediately starts to balk.  Not because I don't think developing a deeper spiritual life is important.  But because for so long I viewed such things as...to be blunt...a waste of time.  Now don't misunderstand, I don't think they are a waste of time.  I just used to feel like that when I was younger.  The reason that I felt that way is the concept of spiritual disciplines always seemed so passive and egocentric.  I associated it with monks cloistered in monasteries ignoring the real world.   As I've grown, I've come to understand that, in truth, some people do use spiritual discipline this way.  A way of imagining themselves as more spiritual, more connected to God, while completely separating themselves from God's work of reaching the lost with the gospel.  However, I have also seen the result of people who are all about "reaching the lost," but who have no spiritual depth to accomplish the task. (Typically, these people don't stay with God's plan too long.)

Smith does well in re-coining the term as "spiritual exercises" noting the active work required as well as their ability through the Spirit to make one a stronger Christian who will be more effective at accomplishing God's will in the world.  It is my prayer for myself that as I progress through this book, I will always keep in front of me that God wants me to develop a stronger spiritual life in order that I may show His glory to world around me.

Am I humble or what?

The last day or so I've been thinking about Smith's words on p.28:

"The Holy Spirit is often the member of the Trinity that get the least attention. We pray to God the Father, and when we read about Jesus in the Gospels we can picture him in human form. But the Holy Spirit is not often the focus of our lives. I have come to believe that the Holy Spirit is not upset about this."

Yesterday I had the distinct "priviledge" of sitting in an Urgent Care waiting room for over 2 hours while a student was being treated by a doctor for flu-like symptoms. During my wait I was reading over Smith's words about the humility and work of the Holy Spirit. I was moved as I reflected on this grace. It was amazing for me to think about all that the Holy Spirit does, what it has done in my life in terms of revealing truth, convicting me of sin, pointing me to Jesus, healing my brokenness, and yet how very little attention and or thought I can give to it. And I wondered if it really didn't mind that like Smith said. I started thinking about how I would feel if it were me.

Here's a little ironic twist --- at the very time I've got this conversation happening in my head, in another part of my brain I'm thinking about how long I've been waiting for this student and how much work I have to get done. I'm wondering if he really appreciates what I'm doing for him or not. I'm feeling pretty proud of myself for the "sacrificial" thing I'm doing by carting him around, exposing myself to potential sickness, taking time away from "ministry", etc. etc.

Not ONE time did I make the connection...at least not until later. And really I didn't make that connection until I was prompted once again by you know who. What is wrong with me? At the very time I'm moved by the humility of God, His willingness to love and serve me even when I don't acknowledge Him, and then I turn right around and act/think arrogantly about how I have to help someone else. Sound like a story you've heard before? Yeah, me too.

Holy Spirit, thank you for not treating me the way I treat you. Thank you for always being there to help me, even when I'm stuck in my own self-centered junk. Thanks for not leaving me stuck, but faithfully prompting me once again. Thank you Lord for not giving up on me, please help me to remember what you've done for me, and to give grace to others as easily and freely as You.

On Being a Texan and Being a Christian

Stanley Hauerwas (pictured) once wrote an essay entitled "On Being a Texan and a Christian," an essay that I felt especially drawn to when I spent time abroad in Germany. There's something about being a minority that incites us to realize, understand, and cling to our own unique identity and heritage. As I read Smith's thoughts about the "narratives" we each have in our life I recalled this essay and realized that both "Texan" and "Christian" were narratives woven into my life. But narrative feels like a funny word for this sort of idea, so I felt like these narratives might also be understood as the legacies, heritages, or identities that each of us hold in our lives. Here's how I broke it down:

Family narrative/legacy: "What does it mean to be a Pierce?"
Cultural narrative/legacy: "What does it mean to be a Texan/American (etc.)?"
Religious narrative/legacy: "What does it mean to be a Christian?"

By interpolating the concept of legacy or heritage onto the broader narrative concept, I was better able to make some meaning out of what he was saying. I have specific content, that is constantly under revision and addition, as to what each of these things mean. Moreover, for me (and as I suspect, for most), the familial and cultural legacies I inherit are contingent and obedient to my religious legacy, but they also provide important layers and stories as to how to understand and interpret that religious legacy.

For instance, my dad loves to comment (read: brag) that my brother and I are 5th generation CofC on one side and 4th on the other side. Being a part of this particular religious tradition has a lot of influence on how I interpret my broader religious legacy of Christianity. Moreover, being a part of a long line of family members who were faithful Christians adds a deeper sense of duty, purpose, and meaning to my life as a Christian. To be a Pierce is to be a faithful Christian both with respect to how these Pierce's (and other surnames I'm related to) have practiced it, and with respect to how my own life will add or innovate to that legacy. My son will have one more story to remember as he grows into his own faith.

Not that one needs a long line of faithful Christians in their family to have this kind of meaning. (Indeed, not all Texans are good Christians!) One need only look to the virtues and other admirable qualities of our ancestors, fellow Texans/Americans, and Christian brothers and sisters, to weave quite a grand story of a cloud of witnesses who have gone before and await us when we return to God.

Community and Spiritual Formation...They really go together?

As I read this section in the chapter, I must say I intellectually agreed with him that spiritual formation as God intended must happen in community. I have taught this for years to parents, teens, and children. Yet, I also realized that my actual internal belief system rebels against this idea. And in thinking and praying on this, I realized that it actually comes back to the earlier part of the chapter about narratives.

Part of my cultural heritage as an American is the idea that I - as an individual - can accomplish what I set my mind to. I have even twisted examples of spiritual development from my own family to fit this individualistic model (but in re-examining the story my grandfather's spiritual depth did not come from a solo exercise, but a constant communal experience. The same is true for my mom.)

Another part of me (and maybe you) resists the idea of casting my spiritual formation into the realm of community, because then not only am I potentially dependent upon others, but I am vulnerable to my failures being visible. Yet, this misses the concept of community that God intended. It's not a focus on failure, but a spotlight on serving each other - aiding each other - growing alongside each other.

We cannot grow alone.  We need the family that God has prepared for us.

 ²⁹ Jesus said, "I tell you the truth, all those who have left houses, brothers, sisters, mother, father, children, or farms for me and for the Good News ³⁰ will get more than they left. Here in this world they will have a hundred times more homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children, and fields. And with those things, they will also suffer for their belief. But in the age that is coming they will have life forever. ³¹ Many who are first now will be last in the future. And many who are last now will be first in the future." (Mark 10:29-31, New Century Version)

If it's to be it's up to...who?

The spiritual disciplines are wisdom, not righteousness. (p.27). I keep coming back to these words in the chapter. They aren't new words, I've heard them before. Yet right now, in this season of my life, they seem new again.

As I reflect, I think of the ways in which I use the disciplines to measure myself spiritually. If I'm honest I can use them to barter with God, like they're the cosmic "rubbing of the lamp" so that the Genie will pop out and grant me my three wishes.

At the same time, there's a sense of rest and relief that I feel as I read these words. My mind goes to Matthew 11:

"Come to me, all who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I'm gentle and humble
in heart, and you will find rest for your soul. For my yoke is easy and
my burden is light." (28-30)

Lately the disciplines have seemed more of a burden than a grace. Completing them has been about righteousness, not wisdom. This chapter has been a good reminder to me that change happens not in how much I do, but rather, in what God is doing in me. I look forward to our conversations and to seeing God's hand at work in us.

Holy Spirit as Soul Trainer

In The Good and Beautiful God (GBG), Smith asserts that the Holy Spirit is at work in everything that happens to us in our Christian lives. He does not need the spotlight because He lives to point to the Father and the Son, but He is always at work (p. 28). The soul-training exercises we undertake are effective as the Spirit comes alongside of us in each one: "When we practice solitude or silence, when we engage in service or simplicity, it is the Spirit who is aiding us and encouraging us" (p. 29).

So we have this comprehensive call for the companionship of Spirit in our lives. In Luke 11 Jesus says that the Father knows how to give good gifts—even the Holy Spirit to those who ask, seek and knock for His Presence. University Avenue has been asking for the Spirit of God in greater measure for almost 1000 days, Sunday by Sunday: "Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of the faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love...." The call for the Spirit to be with us and in us is not some idle exercise or embellishment of liturgy. We come before the Living God asking for the Life-Giving Spirit to be poured into our lives more and more.

And so we seek the Spirit's work in our lives. We will not grieve the Spirit. We will not quench the Spirit. We will blaze to the glory of Father in service of the Son by the power of the Spirit.

I'll Sleep when I'm Dead.

As a person with a newborn who, between his own idiosyncrasies and our failures to properly help him,  sleeps 3-4 hours at a time (on a good day) and 20-30 minutes at a time (on very bad days), I feel at a loss as to how I can effectively get the kind of sleep recommended by the book. In fact, the idea of the discipline of getting a lot of sleep is actually new to me. I think there is a certain Texas 'good ole boy' syndrome where keeping the midnight oil burning is actually a very respectable sign of a hard-working mature person. I remember quite a few late nights and all-nighters in grad school and still find it tempting to finish up something I was working on during the day when I get home.

Moreover, in the texts on spirituality I'm more acquainted with sleep (at least 9 hours of sleep) is actually considered to be an obstacle to spiritual growth. It was thought to encourage sloth and a passive state of mind that allows all sorts of influences to take root. Vigils were practiced in order to keep the mind sharp, focused on God, constantly aware of bad thoughts seeking to slip in. But this kind of literature was largely written for monks and I wonder if Mr. Smith's thoughts are of a different kind of discipline more suited for those of us "in the world."

Usually, I think the reasons why we don't get enough sleep is either because we're over-working, or caught up in some kind of addictive entertainment. These are cares that a monk wouldn't exactly face, but two very big temptations and distractions from God that can be very destructive to our biological and spiritual lives. Perhaps it is that we simply face different demons from those living outside of mainstream society.

To be honest, I feel a little bit in the middle. On the one hand, at this point in my life, I simply can't get 9 continual hours of sleep (not without leaving Sierra alone to fend with the little one). On the other hand, I certainly recognize the benefits and importance of it. But behind the amount of sleep I think we see the more important discipline of being still--not distracting ourselves to sleep, but rather simply getting into bed, lying still, and practicing controlling one's mind, not allowing it to fleet from our daily cares, interests, and desires. Instead, focusing our mind on better things. For me, this is my middle ground.

Cultural narrative

It may be cheesy, but as I read about the narratives that had formed my thinking about the world, I couldn't deny that this scene from The Empire Strikes Back was probably one of the most influential bits of my cultural narrative.  As a 5-year-old (yep that's how old I was when it originally came out...hid my ham that I didn't want to eat under a napkin in order to be allowed to go to the movie), this was ground shaking.  And as I grew older, I realized that Yoda's teaching of the Force had influenced my understanding of right and wrong, God, and my relationship to the world.  So, yes, it's cheesy, and I could have pulled from several other narratives, but this was what first came to my mind.  So it's what I shared.  Enjoy!

Chapter 1 and 'Sleep' Reflections

Reply in the 'Comments' section to post your thoughts and reflections on the first chapter "What Are You Seeking" and the soul-training exercise for the week: sleep. Read the other posts from the rest of the group and feel free to comment if you like.