"How You Gon' Win When You Ain't Right Within?" - Reflections on Three Days of Silence, Solitude, and Prayer
“How you gon’ win when you ain’t right within?”
“Practice what you preach.” Well…that’s precisely what I did about a week ago. I preached a sermon about rest and setting limits in our lives on that Sunday and took a vacation that Monday. Throughout the past few months, I felt myself getting weary. I wasn’t sleeping well. I wasn’t thinking as creatively as I usually would. In some ways, I started to withdraw from those closest to me. I just wasn’t feeling like myself. Furthermore, I began to feel spiritually drained, which is sometimes hard for pastors and church workers to admit. I felt compelled to not just take the vacation I planned before the pandemic but to actually do some soul work.
It’s been just about a week since I disappeared for a few days to Sandy Springs, Georgia—a quiet, lush, and green suburb of Atlanta. This trip had been in the works for some time. I went for a silent retreat at Ignatius House Retreat Center, which is surrounded by massive trees, beautiful trails with a small waterfall, and the Chattahoochee River running through it. For three days, participants were invited to be silent the entire time. We were only allowed to speak during worship times and when conversing with our spiritual directors for thirty minutes each day.
Otherwise, we ate silently, walked around the campus silently, and observed silence in our rooms. We were strongly encouraged to avoid using our phones unless it was an emergency (in which calls could be taken in the administrative building or cars). There were no televisions, computers, or media—only books, beautiful forest trails, and places for prayer and rest. I’m sure many of us first-timers had no idea what we were getting into. But I am also sure we did not expect to receive as much as we did.
There’s so much I could say about my time away with God. I could recount how I slowed my steps as I walked, breathing in every moment. I could talk about the beauty of the place, with mica giving the dirt and rocks a silver shimmer. I could tell you about how rested I felt because I was not falling asleep with the aid of a podcast or TV show.
But for me, the last day was by far the most powerful moment in the entire retreat. During closing worship, we held space for silence, said some prayers, and heard a homily by the priest. At the end of the service, we shared stories about how we experienced God this weekend. I was moved to tears because there was something so holy about listening to others’ stories. Because it was a silent retreat, we walked by one another daily but could not share a single word. So, we had no idea what brought everyone to this place. What was clear, though, was that we all desperately wanted to discover fresh ways of walking with Jesus. With every story shared, I became increasingly overwhelmed and led to share my experience. I said something to the effect of the following:
“Before coming to this retreat, I was worried about many things. It felt as though my world was shaking and wobbling on its axis from the weight of all my worries and the decisions I had to make. Yet, slowly but surely, I began to feel God’s presence—as if God was stabilising and holding my world together. At the same time, I felt God holding me—reminding me that God has been with me the entire time. I’m leaving this weekend not necessarily with a bunch of answers, but with a heightened sense of the peace and presence of God.
I’m also grateful for all of you. While we couldn’t communicate in words, we spoke by acknowledging one another with a smile, wave, or head nod. And that reminded me each day of two things: 1. We were not walking alone. We were with one another. And 2., every time we looked into the face of one another, we saw the face of God.”
As I reflected on this in my journal, I was sitting in the airport waiting for my return flight. I got to the terminal exceptionally early—almost six hours before my flight would board. When I sat at the gate, the airline had some clever messages on their screens for people arriving earlier than usual. As I looked up, one of the messages read, “Come enjoy a quiet place to charge up.”
Thank you, Southwest, for this beautiful reminder.
Thank you, Holy Spirit, for reminding me to see God’s presence in all things.
“7 The angel of the Lord came a second time, touched [Elijah], and said, ‘Get up and eat, or the journey will be too much for you.’”
Gas prices are out of control, aren’t they? Because of this, I try to get as many miles out of my tank as possible. I usually run my car down to empty before I have to spend another dollar. Now, I like cars, but I’m no mechanic. So it was fascinating to learn that driving on empty for extended periods damages your car’s fuel system. The way I understand it, the fuel pump delivers gas to the engine, but the fuel pump itself is simultaneously lubricated and cooled by the gas. So when the tank empties, the fuel pump can start to intake air, causing the pump to burn out. Some mechanics estimate this repair could cost anywhere between $1,000-$2,000.
Sadly, I think this is a picture of our lives at times. We neglect to fuel ourselves for the long journey ahead and pay a high cost for it later. We believe that rest is running away from responsibilities when it's actually how we can reach restoration. God freely offers us “shalom,” (which is the Hebrew word that means “peace, wellness, welfare, or wholeness”). We simply have to humble ourselves enough to accept this gift as God’s beloved children.
So, care for yourselves, my friends. Take a moment to breathe in the Spirit of God. Make room for what God may have for you now and in what’s next. It’s vital that we do deep soul work.
Because we can’t win…if we ain’t right within.