Words Fail Me
All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.”
― Blaise Pascal
Recently, I spent two separate weeks in awe-inspiring locations. One, the Abbey of Gethsemani in Trappist, KY, the other Canaan Valley, WV. In Kentucky, I subjected myself to silence from Monday evening until Friday morning. Other than joining the monks for many of their seven daily prayer services, I was free to roam the hills and sit by the streams of the beautiful property. I did not know quite what to expect out of this silence, but I did have hope that I would be met in it by God. In recent years, I have grown more and more convinced that we Christians often talk at length about God. We conceptualize Him, we systematize Him, we speak accurately of Him. But do we interact directly with Him? Do we actually connect with Him meaningfully?
Once I was talking with someone about what it means to abide in Christ, as we are commanded to do in the Scriptures. Their response was familiar: “Abiding in Christ means you consider a problem in your life, discern the lies you are believing about yourself, find in Scripture what God says about you, and believe the Scriptures more than the lies.” Although there is much to be commended in this response, it does not sound like abiding. The Cambridge Dictionary says the word abide means to live or stay somewhere. The word “dwell” is in the same ballpark. If I were abiding well with my wife, would I be systematic and intellectual in our interaction? Would I be making lists comparing lies and truth? Or would I spend much of our time listening attentively to her heart and periodically sharing mine with her? Might I feel something visceral as we spoke of our joys and sorrows? This type of interaction sounds more like abiding to me.
Which brings me back to Silence. In the silence of the rolling Kentucky landscape, I did a lot of listening. Some of the experiences were sweet and beautiful. God thought enough of humans to make rolling hills and sunshine and trees and fresh air and streams for them to enjoy. He thinks enough of me personally to bless me immensely with legs that walk, a heart that is alive, and a life that has miraculously stayed connected to Him over all these years. Some of the experiences were challenging. How often was I tempted to watch some YouTube shorts or eat a bunch of candy because His silence is not a thrill a minute? After all, I was staying “silent”! How many times while wandering the grounds did I interact with my struggles and my sin? While ultimately a good thing to reckon with, my sin is certainly not enjoyable to face.
Without silence, how would I ever have heard/noticed anything from God? Without silence, how would I have ever thought to communicate deeper things to Him? Without silence, how would I ever abide in Him?
A couple weeks later, in Canaan Valley, I gazed upon stars I had never seen before. Without the light pollution found in even small cities, there were thousands of “extra” stars visible amongst the more familiar ones. And I thought of the insufficiency of words for the reality of the Creator. He is far beyond a good friend and wise instructor. He must be quite unlike us to be the Creator and Sustainer of all that is. And we sing nice hymns and say nice words in response. All of our efforts are necessary, of course, but it is good to recognize their insufficiency in light of the actual Reality of God.
When I speak of silence with clients they often bemoan the lack of time and space to be silent in God’s presence. They (and I) have some ideal picture in their minds of extended silence done well, which seems unattainable. But what if a little silence went a long way? What if God is ready to listen to your heart and share His presence with you anytime you get silent and still even if you only have a few minutes? What if he is ready not because He is desperate, but because He delights in you that much. I was so glad to find in Kentucky and West Virginia that He is absolutely there if I will just slow down enough to turn my gaze away from all the noise and toward His loving, abiding, presence.
Ben is honored to sit with men and women in the midst of the inevitable and unavoidable struggles of life. Prior to coming to Barnabas, Ben counseled at the Oviedo Counseling Clinic in Florida. He has been trained to walk with people through many types of struggles but finds himself regularly working with couples, men dealing with sexual issues, men and women dealing with interpersonal and relational struggles, and those who deal with anxiety and depression. Ben is married to Amy and has three children. When not in the counseling room, he likes to make time for playing the banjo and guitar. He is also a ski patroller at Beech Mountain, NC.
