So, you may have noticed there hasn't been any writing in this space for almost a month (well, outside of a review for a new Berenstain Bears book I got for my daughter and buried in a blank space in June). I didn't plan on not writing, but things sort of combined to make it so.
I went to the Mid-Atlantic Church of the Nazarene teen camp, which was awesome - then left a couple days later for vacation in Colorado. I thought I'd get some writing done in down time there, but our three year old ended up in the hospital with a kidney infection for half the week. She's pretty much doing fine now - although parenting a three year old is always an adventure.
It's been a good time off for me. I've found in trying to keep the discipline of two posts a week, there are really times when things get stretched. And by "things" I mean my brain and my creativity and, sometimes, my sanity. I was really running dry there for a while.
I get nervous when I get off schedule. To be honest, it's mostly for selfish reasons. I'd like to write more. I'd like to be writing in ways that might pay a little bit of money from time to time. I get those chances occasionally. The main reason I started writing and writing regularly was to keep in practice. Writing well takes repetition, like anything else. I like writing. I need to write. Sort of connected to that was the notion that I often had lots of things to say about topics that people around me didn't always care too much about. Writing it online was an easy way to get my ideas out there without upsetting my friends and neighbors - it also provides the bonus of being able to be discovered by people who are interested in some of the same things.
Lastly, though, I write because I am trying to create some kind of presence. I like to see the page hits go up and it's fun when people share these posts. It makes me feel an extra sense of fulfillment - beyond the surge that comes from just getting something down in words (and occasionally doing it well). In the past, when I've taken time off (usually because of business or creative burnout) the audience and hits have dropped off dramatically - taking months to swing back to a "normal" range. It's not that I really care if people are reading, but I do care if all the hard work I've put in to being faithful to write gets wiped out by a few missed postings. I'm not sure I can explain it properly (or if it's entirely healthy - more fodder for counseling!), but that's not quite relevant to what I wanted to say today anyway. This time, though, that hasn't happened. I'm not sure if there's enough in the kitty to keep people coming back or if the search bots have just multiplied.
I got some much needed time off and return to the regular schedule with a lot of ideas (just wait until Thursday!) - I also come with a real sense that I can disappear for a little while without being entirely forgotten. That's thanks to you.
So, thanks.
Thanks for reading and sharing and commenting and thinking. It's nice to know there's someone else out there.
This week I was privileged to take part in a prayer retreat at the beautiful St. Mary of Providence Center in the rolling, farm-covered hills of southeastern Pennsylvania. It was the second year I participated in this event. It is a group event, but quite unstructured, so as to allow the participants to find the appropriate retreat for themselves.
As I did last year, upon arrival, I unpacked the few belonging I brought with me, some clothes, a number of books, my toothbrush – and then immediately emptied my pockets. The freedom of walking around with limited attachments is quite breathtaking. Especially important is the forsaking of my phone. I don’t get or make a lot of calls, but my phone serves as my timekeeper; I haven’t worn a watch in years. The act of leaving it beside my bed as I spent the next two days apart from it was both scary and hopeful.
I am a slave of the clock. I have had trouble ridding myself of this learned US obsession with time and efficiency. I always feel like I should be doing more and doing it faster. I am always aware of the next thing on the agenda and working to get to it faster. The whole idea is to build this mythical reserve of time, which never materializes. Rest is a non-existent motivation.
Retreat allows for rest. I intentionally spurn the clock. If I oversleep and miss a meal, it won’t kill me. If I get lost in prayer or reading, the time doesn’t matter. I have often stated that one of the main purposes for our corporate worship gatherings is for us to escape the business and constraints of the world. A retreat is designed, at least for me, to expand that escape to a long enough period of time that it feels like a lifestyle.
There was no computer; I took only two calls with my wife, short ones at that – she is wonderful in understanding the purpose of such a retreat – there was no real agenda. I participated in group sessions for sharing and prayer, but most of my effort was focused on simply forgetting the schedule.
As I returned home yesterday afternoon, I immediately turned on my computer – I am sure there is much to catch up on. As it began to boot and load, I realized that there was no immediate need to interact what that world just yet. I took the evening off to sit in the living room with my wife, watch some TV and gradually re-immerse myself into the world, the escape from which was so soothing to my soul.
It began to dawn on me that the purpose of retreat this year was not simply to escape the cycle of efficiency and business for two days, but perhaps to reimagine that very cycle in my own life. I was to bring retreat back to my world in some way. We cannot be completely disconnected from the cycle – it is an inherent part of life – but it can be managed and corralled with discipline, focus and intentionality.
So I write this entry before checking my email. I write it before checking the news of the week or the sports scores, before posting on a message board or playing a game. I find this almost too good to be true. Can I really engage differently with the world?
That, in and of itself, is the question of the gospel. If Jesus Christ came to show us a different way, is that really something that makes sense in a world that shapes and forms us for the opposite. I have banked my life on the idea that the answer is yes, now it is time to see how well that bears out in practice.
