The Sound of Silence – part 2

During Advent I published a post on the blog entitled ‘The Sound of Silence’ http://suitcasesojourner.blogspot.com/2018/12/the-sound-of-silence.html

I was reflecting there on how we deal with the apparent silence of God. I commented then that for me the experience of ‘heaven’s silence felt like an assault upon me’.

And I continued ‘this is not a new experience for me and it is far from unusual for people of faith to experience darkness and silence’, and I referenced some biblical episodes to illustrate this.

But in this post it is not God’s silence that I want to consider, but our silence... the ‘discipline of silence’, if you prefer. During this Lenten Season I have been considering this a bit and pondering how I might better exercise this spiritual discipline.

It occurs to me (not that this is in the slightest original!) that today, in our busy and noisy and crowded world, there is little space or place for the discipline of silence. We drive with the radio or music on in our cars, our homes have speakers in many (or all) of the rooms constantly streaming sound, or we wander along the road with our earphones plugged into our phones, listening to podcasts, music or audio books. Even our expressions of Christianity seems to be very noisy and wordy and our worship is often devoid of silence!

I am not seeking to be critical of any or all of these things per se. I  am simply asking myself the question of when and where do I find silence? And is it not so often in the silence that we can deeply encounter God and hear him speak?

After Elijah fled from Jezebel, he ended up on Mount Horeb. There, after the wind, earthquake and fire there was ‘a sound of sheer silence’ (1 Kings 19: 12). And God then met with him and spoke to him.

Where and when do we find or seek these times of ‘sheer silence’? Could it be that the absence of them is why we do not deeply encounter God or hear him speak?

But I am increasingly aware that the silence we need is not simply the outward silence of the absence of sound. It is inner silence, when all the thoughts, worries, concerns and voices within are stilled and we can simply ‘be’ in the presence of God. No words, no spoken (or thought) prayers... just being there in God’s presence. It is what I suppose the hymn writer John Greenleaf Whittier had in mind when we wrote in his well loved hymn ‘Dear Lord and Father’ the line ‘the silence of eternity...’

In that hymn he goes on;

‘With that deep hush subduing all

Our words and works that drown

The tender whisper of Thy call,

As noiseless let Thy blessing fall

As fell Thy manna down.

Drop Thy still dews of quietness,

Till all our strivings cease;

Take from our souls the strain and stress,

And let our ordered lives confess

The beauty of Thy peace.

Breathe through the heats of our desire

Thy coolness and Thy balm;

Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;

Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,

O still, small voice of calm’

 Yes, indeed.

Years of Plenty, Years of Famine

‘..gather all the food of these good years that are coming...that food shall be a reserve for the land against the seven years of famine...’ (Genesis 41: 35-36)

In the story of Joseph in Egypt and his interpretation of Pharaoh’s dreams and his execution of his plan, the seven years of good crops allowed for the storage of sufficient grain to provide for the population during the seven subsequent years of famine.

It is a story that has come to me again and again during this past difficult year, and at different times various aspects of the whole story have spoken to me. I recently preached on the reconciliation of Joseph with his brothers and father – the denouement of a tale that begins with a dysfunctional family, favouritism, arrogance, jealousy and violence.

But it this concept of storing in times of plenty to provide in times of need that especially resonates with me.

Speaking with a wise friend some months ago I commented on how, in the midst of our hard times, I was finding it difficult to spend time in prayer or maintain my usual pattern of spiritual discipline. I had lost the rhythm, as it were.

He encouraged me not to be anxious about that. He offered this thought, that over the years I had dug the wells of spiritual discipline sufficiently deeply for there to be reservoirs of spiritual resource sufficient to sustain me through the dark and dry times.

To be honest, I am not sure that he did not have a rather idealised view of my previous spiritual patterns, but nonetheless, what he said struck me.

Now that I am feeling somewhat better and the darkest times are possibly passing, I am using this season of Lent to gradually re-establish the rhythm and pattern of spiritual discipline. And as I look back over these past months I realise that indeed, what I had stored in the ‘years of plenty’ seems to have sustained me during the ‘years of famine’.

Glory into Glory

‘All of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image, from one degree of glory to another.’

(2 Corinthians 3: 19)

Once more we find ourselves in this season of Lent, a time of preparation, spiritual discipline, repentance etc.

As I did last Advent, I plan to try and post on my blog somewhat more frequently during Lent.

A lot of things have been going through my mind in the days approaching Lent. Questions arose in my mind, some a little deeper than others;

Why do we do Lent? (those of us who do!)

What does repentance mean and signify?

What do Christians mean when they speak about ‘holiness’?

Am I going to give up (or ‘take up’) anything for Lent?

...and so on and on.

As I pondered these my thoughts began to turn to the concept of theosis which – as taught by the Eastern Orthodox Churches is a transformative process whose aim is likeness to or union with God. A rough translation might be ‘divinisation’ as in the words of St Athanasius who famously said ‘He was incarnate that we might be made divine’.

These are not concepts that have generally been popular in Western Christianity and have even been regarded as heresy by some parts of the Western Church.

And I can understand why (but won’t bore you with that here!).

But I see this as a biblical emphasis which is one that makes sense to me. It emphasises a process of becoming more like God – a process made possible by the Incarnation and enabled by the Spirit at work in us.

Paul said ‘work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who is at work in you...’ (Philippians 2: 12-13). We are in a process of becoming. God is working within us to effect the transformation that we require and seek. But we are to work with him in this process (and – again – to some Christians in the West, even this may be a little controversial!)

This all fits with my own experience and understanding. It is a process, and I cannot do it by myself, but neither can I expect the transformation to occur unless I cooperate and work with God who is at work in me.

We are being changed from glory into glory.

Heigh ho, heigh ho...

... it’s off to work I go!

Yes, having been off work for a few months, I have begun a phased return to work. Thank goodness!

Far from the attitude implied by ‘heigh ho’ (defined in the Oxford English Dictionary as an attitude of langour, weariness or disappointment) I am actually really engaged with and excited about my return to work and what passes for normality!

I like the shape and structure that work brings to my life, and I find my ministry very fulfilling. I think that I have been generally happier and more settled since I began back to work a fortnight ago, than I was previously.

But, at the back of my mind there is a wee niggle.

Aware that I am only 2 or 3 years away from retirement, I wonder how I will cope. Yes, I have lots of interests and many hobbies to pursue. But will these give me the same sense of structure and satisfaction?

Indeed, I now wonder if this fear lies behind my insistent determination to keep working as best I can in spite of health challenges that could have justified me giving up a while back.

Hmmm...

And what does that say about me and where I find my sense of self and worth?

Am I a human being or a human doing?

Is it my work, my efforts, and my achievements that define who I feel myself to be?

Or, to be more theological... am I justified by grace or by works?

And again, to be more personally spiritual, what does this say about the nature of my relationship with God, my sense of self in relation to Christ etc?

Interesting questions, worth pondering...

...but they will have to wait... I need to get back to work!