About a year ago, the Lord started me on this journey toward “retreat.” Prior to, “retreat” meant a vacation, rest, relaxation. I’d even heard the term “solitude” used in church, but hadn’t fully absorbed its significance. I really still regarded it as something that simply made me feel refreshed.
I’m not quite sure how it happened. It’s not as if I stopped loving the Lord. And I still knew consciously, logically, that my faith was not based on works and that I could never earn God’s love. But the hamster wheel of life somehow grabbed hold of me. Endless to-do lists I could never complete. So much rushing. A harried pace that left me exhausted and an anxiety that told me never to sit still lest I succumb to idleness. But inwardly, something was aching.
It was soft and still, but the Lord was beckoning me toward something more.
When I was young, carefree with ample amounts of time, I could spend hours on a given day in quiet bliss with the Lord. In part, it was how I developed such a deep relationship with him, but it was also what allowed me to heal from the deep tragedies which had surrounded that stage of my life. Unreserved worship. Unrushed prayer. Ravenous study of the Word. These sustained me.
Yet as life continued, responsibilities built. Time became less and less my own and more a self-giving act of caring for everyone around me. (All beautiful and good and sanctifying, but time consuming nonetheless.) Ironically, over the past several years, the Lord was stretching me to learn how to worship in the middle of the chaos – prayers uttered while folding laundry, worship while driving, audio scripture while doing the dishes. Every ordinary act in my day could be lifted up as communion with my Savior.
Even so, somehow my carefree abandonment to sit at the feet of Jesus like Mary had been traded for the frenzied Martha trying to keep up with all the responsibilities– those responsibilities which squeezed tighter and tighter like a vice grip around my soul. All I could see was my inability to measure up in life.
It was in this place the Lord beckoned me.
Last June, I sat across from a spiritual director sharing the burdens I carried as a mother and the responsibilities I felt as a wife, woman, and believer. She asked me a poignant question I will never forget: “Have you ever considered Jesus’ compassion?”
“Of course,” I answered. “He had compassion on the crowds, he cared for the sick, the vulnerable, and oppressed.”
“No, that’s not what I mean,” she replied. “Have you ever considered Jesus’ compassion toward you?”
And with that, I wept.
I could confidently say that Jesus loves you, has grace and compassion on you, but me? Some days I wasn’t sure he even still loved me. The Sunday School tune of “Jesus loves me, this I know” felt distant and cold. How could he when I never seemed to measure up?
That brief conversation catapulted a summer’s journey of the Lord calling me to himself and reminding me of his deep care, grace, and compassion. He is the one who restores my soul. He longs to be gracious to me. He leads me beside still waters.
But I needed to go back in order to go forward. I needed to rediscover Mary at Christ’s feet. I needed to remember the days of my youth to feed my weary soul in order to grow in spiritual health again. Not another to-do, but an invitation. “Come to me, you who are weary.” “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” I needed to remember how to be still again, how to find solace and retreat in my King Jesus. I needed to learn to slow down and no longer measure my identity by the number of to-dos checked off the list for the day, but rather through the eyes of my loving Father.
It was from this that the idea of “Retreat” with The Priscilla Initiative was born, not just for me personally, but to share with others. God was stirring dreams in my heart. But if I was ever to DO for him, I needed to remember first how to be still before him.
Over the next few blogs, I’ll share a little more with you about what retreat, silence, and solitude even mean, and how they can be beneficial in our spiritual lives. I pray you’ll join me to learn more, whether it’s from mere curiosity or because you sense a similar ache in your own spirit.
The Priscilla Initiative 