God's Deafening Silence

On the threshold of change and transformation, the silence of God can sometimes be deafening.

Our God never says too much. He is perfect in that he always says just enough. In our struggles, in our desperations, we run to him pleading for answers and begging to be spared from trials. Each time we fall to his feet crying out our frustations, God nods knowingly, listens intently with patience and love, and then sits back...and is still. Why does that frustrate us more than anything? Instead of throwing out answers, he asks questions. Sometimes, he doesn't even do that. We're left in the dark, we're left without conclusion. The only conclusion we can draw is our own. Sometimes all we have in God's silence are bits and pieces of encouraging scripture, or hopefully the warmth of His Spirit. But sometimes, not even that.
Recently I was put in a situation that absolutely terrified me. It was a situation that depended on my performance. I had no idea how to carry out the task I was appointed, simple as it was. I let my fear consume me, I let my emotions grab hold of me and I was nearly throwing up in anticipation of how much I knew I was going to fail. I was praying diligently for God's answers. For the relief from the anxiety and fear. For God to fix everything for me. I've prayed for God's relief before, but this time, my plea was desperate. I prayed and I prayed and I prayed. But still, irrationally enough, I was absolutely overcome by my own fear and I had zero left in me to do what I was asked to do. But I couldn't back out of it. So, I told God that I absolutely needed him to come through because I was empty and void of anything to offer. I walk up to do my thing. I open my mouth and--to my surprise--words of eloquence flow out with nary a stutter. Everything made perfect sense and truth was flowing out of me that I never knew was inside. On top of that, the fear was zapped away.
What happened?
God moved.
Why?
I continually avoid every thing I can't control, every thing that makes me afraid, every thing that I could possibly fail at. But God works the most beautifully when we're completely emptied of everything inside of us. Because in that, his Spirit finally has room to move. To ebb and flow without getting stunted and pushed back by walls of pride, control and striving.
God knowingly lets us sit in our discomfort and ignorance. He lets us hang on the edge by a few fingers. We're screaming and shouting for an answer, for relief, for some type of solution. We feel like we are going to die. But it's in those moments that he moves the most mightily.

Surprisingly enough, this character trait of God sends me into an enamored state of warm fuzzies. What love! What pure and true love to focus on the highest good for his child. Silence, on the surface seems so awful. Like, we're being neglected. But the reality is that we're being nurtured more than we know.



Now, more than ever, I've never been so assured of his goodness or so trusting in his character.




I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. - 2 Corinthians 12:7-10

Fasting and Solitude does not equal Deprivation and Loneliness

Fasting And Solitude

By
Ron Lagerquist

“Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.”
Luke 5:16

“Make peace with solitude and you will never be the same. The result will be autonomous, independent living that will free you to explore your creative side and God-given destiny.”

Since my first expedition into the wilds of the Canadian north at age twenty-one, I have had a romantic love/hate relationship with solitude. Stripping my daily needs down to a canoe and two backpacks, off I would go, often for two weeks. Parking my car, loading my canoe, and paddling on the first lake, there were day-trippers to keep me company, families who wanted a taste of unpopulated shorelines without the rigors of leaving behind the car and tent trailer. The first portage into the next lake culls away the day-trippers, leaving a more serious folk, marked by their rugged gear and determined visage. Each portage thins the paddlers and, once deep enough in, it is not uncommon to have an entire lake to myself. A lake announces its solitude at night with the absence of distant flickering fires; instead, there is the darkness of the sky silhouetted by the deeper darkness of treetops. The only sounds are nocturnal creatures, the frequent wail of loon-song, and whispering inner voices.

On my previous wilderness trips with friends, I would often sit on a rock by the water, wondering if I would ever have the courage to venture out here alone. There was a longing to remove myself from the man-pack in order to explore the solitude that called to me from across the waves. Finally, at age 45, I mustered up the courage to do a solo canoe trip into the guts of Algonquin Park, a vast wilderness of hundreds of miles of portages joining over a thousand lakes. It was not bears or wolves that caused fear, but the thought of being alone for days with my own demons and no easy escape. Instinctively, I knew some great inner battle awaited me out there, one that I needed to face and win.  

“How was your weekend?” “Busy,” I answer. It’s a good answer; I always feel good saying it. The questioner gives a nod of approval. After all, a weekend filled with work, hanging with friends, or family gatherings speaks of a successful, well-connected person. But what if I answered, “I did nothing but sit alone at home and meditate,” I might be met with a courteous smile masking pity or even mild suspicion. Human societies—even Christians—have always been a little distrustful of those who spend too much time alone, yet all of the famous figures of the bible spend a great deal of time alone. David, Moses, and many of the prophets were tempered in the fires of solitude. The desert was a symbol of fasting and solitude. Jesus, himself, left family and friends and ventured out into desolate hills to come face to face with his demon. In his weakest hour, he overcame tailor-made temptations offered to him by one who had been waiting.

Trial by fasting and solitude has involved some of my  most painful moments. In the fires of solitude, the pretense of self-importance that comes from a busy life quickly falls away, revealing the stark reality of fears and insecurities that are always just below the surface. When life’s props are gone, the fragility and pending fatality of our humanness becomes exposed, which can leave you feeling naked and vulnerable. Being weakened by fasting only serves to enhance this feeling of vulnerability, forcing you to turn to your internal spiritual resources. If they are bankrupt due to lack of investment of quiet meditation and prayer, you will come face to face with a poverty of spirit within. I am convinced that spiritual poverty is at the root of addiction, whether it be to food, dysfunctional relationships, alcohol, or drugs. Addiction is a way to both dull and run away from a growing feeling of spiritual emptiness. Fasting and solitude stops running dead in its tracks, which is vital to breaking addictive behaviors.   

Fifteen years of fasting and solitude finally developed within me the courage to venture into the wilds alone for eight days. I aimed a loaded canoe away from the access point and started paddling. As the park lodge and car faded behind me, there was a growing sense of anticipation of what lay ahead. The effect did not take long. Divorced from e-mail, cell phone, and internet, the silence of wilderness and solitude quickly allowed the ever-present voices of fear, guilt, and regret to move from the background to the foreground. During the second night, while on a lonely island, as the dying embers of the campfire allowed the darkness to embrace me, I realized how much my busyness had been simply running from the whispering words. But here on this island there was no escape, no drowning them out with TV or music. I was faced with one option: confront the voices head-on.

During the first four days of that trip, I faced some of the hardest moments of my life. Waves of guilt and regret assaulted me, faces of the people I had failed were marched across my memory. A broken marriage, secret sin, lust, envy, and unforgiveness filled my guts with bile. Doubt battered me on every side. The authenticity of every good thing I had done was in question—even the motives behind all my writing. There was no God, no loving Savior, only a blue sky filled with the weight of sin and regret. After four days of choking guilt, it finally came; in the deepest crisis of shame, Christ broke through with His grace. This was the unfinished business of my salvation, waiting for me when I had the courage to go deeper into my own sinfulness, so I could discover the depth of God’s love. Accepting God’s forgiveness allowed me to forgive myself and put to rest the accusing voices from which I had been fleeing. Solitude transformed from a terrifying unknown to a sanctuary of fellowship with God.

The harder it is for you to be alone, the more valuable fasting and solitude will be to exact personal freedom. A person who is content with being alone and has made peace with solitude will never be the same. The result will be autonomous, independent living that will free you to explore your creative side and God-given destiny.

No longer afraid to be alone, I am guarded from all kinds of grief, including entering into dysfunctional relationships. Greatest of all, I am experiencing a whole new level of intimacy with God. Alone with God. Alone, silent, and listening. The whispers of guilt and fear are still there, but I am no longer afraid of them. There is a greater truth than sin and shame: God’s grace and forgiveness.

Struggle Is Funny

Thanks StrengthFinder 2.0, for helping me come to understand my Restorative, Harmonious and Intellectual qualities.
Thanks for not pointing out my inherent weaknesses and tendencies toward idol worship, crippling comparison of myself to others and love of my job before my love of God.
Man. 

Sometimes, you have to face your Ugly.
But sometimes you can spend days, weeks, even months occupying yourself with busyness or believing your own lies to keep yourself from having to face your Ugly. Yesterday, I feel like God forced me to. Thank God. I'm the type of person who will resort to every last form of relief before I resort to taking refuge in the Lord. I don't know why this is, but it's always been that way. I guess that's what you call human nature? Maybe. Anyway, yesterday, after what seemed like I was being "caught like a bear by the feet with his hands in the hive who complains of the sting" (I was doing something that was not wise, all the while whining to God about how unhappy I was), I was hit with how good I am at ignoring bad and uncomfortable things, and covering them up with forms of escapism. I mean, I'm really good at ignoring things. And escaping. It's kind of scary. I never thought about it before, but I see it all areas of my life. Socially, spiritually...even with the way I eat. So yesterday I actually sat down, very unwillingly, whining and frowning at having to face my own Ugly, and I searched my heart and mind for discomforts and anxieties and concerns, and ended up pinpointing about 6 different things that were what I considered to be significant problems that I had subconsciously been ignoring. 6. That's a lot! If you're defining them as problems that would cause stress and distraction in life. I know everyone has problems at any given point, but for some reason I have the concept in my head that being problem free = being holy, therefore I've been ignoring my problems.
And not without cost.
Because with it, I've developed about 6 or so habits, or compulsions, that are outlets for me do deal with this stuff I'm not actively dealing with. Isn't that funny? Seriously. I think it's kind of amazing. If we don't acknowledge and work through our struggles, they'll surface anyway without our consent. There's no way to avoid struggle or pain.  Because in one way or another--you'll end up having to deal with them. And if you don't deal with them right away or in good time, they'll will come back up with a few pals you'll have to deal with them, too. And those pals bring pals, and their pals bring pals...and it ends up being a party.
So acknowledge it and nip it early. And most importantly: love your struggle and your pain. Because Our God is a god of struggle (see: the story of Jacob). He obviously loves both of them and sees their value or he wouldn't have wired our minds and bodies to force us to face them.
So, as it is with everything:
Praise God.

Be Careful

Greed, fear, hate, selfishness, gluttony, intentional ignorance, and the myriad amount of silent, quick-spreading evils are best established through passivity and negligence of the highest form of Good and/or thinking we already know what that Good is.

Disarmed.

God, God, God.

That's all the words I can seem to muster lately when I pray or worship or stand before God.
Our God is huge. And all encompassing. Completely unpredictable. and 100% NOT formulaic.
I'm frustrated lately because I'm a very formulaic and step-by-step person. Normally, you do such and such, to get such and such. It's logic. It's the law of Causation.
But God does not work this way. And I think He ups his mysteriousness and unpredictability and evasiveness even more so to those who have problems with formulaic religious thinking in order to show them that He is not this way. His arm is the one thing in the life of an analyzer/controller, that they cannot through will, force or manipulation of any kind, twist. And to us analyzers/controllers, that's disarming, frustrating, infuriating and exposing of our true nature.  It's something ugly we don't like to see. We can petition, we can ask, we can plead, but nothing we do with intentions of boxing Him in will ever work.
So, given that, I'm finding that during prayer, I can repent, I can praise, I can ask, I can do anything, but none of that will guarantee He will speak to me.
During worship, I can pray for humility, I can pray against pride, I can sing through gritted teeth, but none of that will guarantee I will meet with God and give Him the praise He deserves.
In my day-to-day, I can begin with meditating on His word, appreciating His creation, listening intently to my neighbor, preferring others above myself, but none of that will guarantee that at the end of the day, I glorified God.
I don't get God. If God was religious, this whole thing would be so easy. All of the above would be completely successful. But it's not. They're all good things, repentance, praying against pride, preferring my neighbor, meditating on his word...they're all beautiful and gifts from God. But if we cling to these things as ways to manipulate and 'get to' The Father, then we lose the beauty and the wonder of the fact that He is like wind through the trees: there for a few seconds then gone. Moving and invading the surroundings, then off to affect something else. Tangible on your skin for a split second, then He disappears. You try to catch him, but instead He flows right through your fingers. Who is this God?
I'd like to say that lately I'm in wonder of the evasiveness of God. But I'll be honest and say that I'm frustrated. God makes no sense. Ritually, I'm holy. Spiritually, I don't feel so holy. But yet, He loves and He gives life to me, slowly and subtly, despite the fact I'm frustrated and irritated with the most beautiful part of His being! If that's not anti-formulaic and upside-down, I don't know what is.

God, God, God!