“We must be made aware of the call to let our false,
compulsive self be transformed into the new self of Jesus Christ. It also shows
that solitude is the furnace in which this transformation takes place.” – Henri
Nouwen, The Way of the Heart
Solitude can be a frightening thing in our highly “social”
world. Being alone with nothing but ourselves and God is not for the faint of
heart, for in such a context we are completely exposed, naked in our brokenness
before an all-seeing, holy, and righteous Being. There is no place to hide, no
one caught in “bigger” sins or experiencing “greater” struggles for us to cower
behind, and, if we’re honest, no one or thing to blame but ourselves for our
wretched condition.
And yet . . . it is in this isolation that the compassionately
tender and steady hands of our loving Father can perform his most effective
surgeries on our hearts.
I’m writing this in the midst of the 2020 COVID-19
pandemic. It’s a time when hundreds of millions of people are in “lockdown,” ordered
to stay at home as much as possible as our world’s nations attempt to “flatten
the curve” and save as many lives as possible. And though we have countless
means of entertainment and distraction at our fingertips—at least here in my
middle-class Midwestern context—many of us find ourselves, well . . . restless.
What better context to dive into the spiritual disciplines of solitude and
silence?
Henri Nouwen insists that there is a three-fold purpose
to solitude—first, it allows us to drop our false selves, then it allows God to
transform our real selves into something more resembling Jesus, and finally,
from our real selves we are able to more effectively proclaim the good news of
Jesus and minister to those around us. That seems like a worthy goal to me.
SOLITUDE AS BOTH BATTLEGROUND AND BEAR HUG
When we practice solitude, we enter an arena. Our fight
is against not only the false self, who is formidable in his own right, but
also against the forces who created and control our false selves—the three main
compulsions of the world: to be
relevant, to be spectacular, and to be powerful. Jesus encountered these same inner
foes during his forty days of solitude in the wilderness (and assuredly at many
other points in his ministry), so we too must enter the desert in order to face
them down and strip ourselves of the false self they so quickly and adeptly
create for us.
At the same time, solitude is where we can most easily
encounter the loving embrace of our Abba. When we can shut out the world and
all its demands and distractions, the presence of Immanuel, “God with us,”
becomes more tangible and approachable. This offers us great encouragement,
because not only do we have an Advocate who will fiercely and effectively fight
on our behalf, but One who will softly and tenderly love us and tend to our
wounds no matter how badly or how often we lose in our struggles against the
things that force us to become imposters and frauds in an effort to conceal our imperfections and addictions.
SO HOW DO WE DO IT?
I believe it’s important to “prime the pump” for
solitude. And by that, I mean investing in some Bible intake. When Jesus faced his
trial of solitude and temptation in the wilderness, it was clear that he had
made an extensive investment in God’s Word, and it was this investment that
helped him overcome the foes he encountered on his own personal battlefield.
Scripture is not only God’s Word for us, but it’s also God’s mirror for us. It
helps to show us who God is and who we are, and who we’re supposed to be.
The first key to solitude is finding a place free from
distractions—no people, no screens, no tasks. Just you and space. Such spaces
are growing rarer in our culture. Kyle Idleman uses a closet he’s cleaned out. I
use my favorite chair in the living room. Second, find a time and stick with it.
For me, it’s early in the morning when no one else is up.
Then I spend time with myself, just me and God. I reflect on my recent actions and interactions. What were the motivations behind
them? What is making me tick? What is driving my behavior? What about me is not
fully surrendered to God? What am I hoping to hide from others about myself?
What am I anxious about or fearful of, and why? Who am I at odds with, and why?
What lies hidden, perhaps even from me, under the dark currents pf my heart?
It’s not necessarily a pleasant experience. Who wants to
face the ugly things about ourselves? But unless we do, we will never come to a
point where we are able to give those things to God and have him change them
into something wonderful.
Such introspection has one of three outcomes. I could
simply recoil in shock and denial and assume my false self once more. I could grit
my teeth and commit once again to “white-knuckling” against my brokenness in my
own power. Or I could realize my truly helpless estate and turn to Jesus in
complete surrender.
And every time I turn to Jesus, he is right there beside
me. The journey into solitude, oddly enough, is never a journey we take on our
own. Jesus is with us, every step of the way if only we look to him. And when
our struggle against the ugliness we see in our hearts begins to crush us and defeat
us (and when does it ever not?), we can fall into the tender embrace of Jesus
and let him take up the fight for us.
Introspection of self, acknowledgment of powerlessness, surrender
to the unquenchable love of God. These are the elements of solitude.
The fruit of solitude, of course, is a compassionate
response to the brokenness of those around us. When we have a greater
appreciation for our own shortcomings, when we recognize our own powerlessness
over them, and when we realize that God loves us and rescues us despite our hurts,
hang-ups, and habits, our judgmental superiority in reaching down to “help”
others will slowly be transformed into a transparent compassion that reaches
out to our fellow man.
This was one of the many differences between the
Pharisees and Jesus. And it can be one of the many differences between who we
are now and what we can be, with God’s help. Practice solitude. We’ll look at the
discipline of silence in the next post.
Grace and peace.
