Books

Introduction

The sixth chapter of Mark tells of a stormy night when the men who had followed Jesus were scared. Although the fishermen strained at their oars in the darkness, trying in vain to get control of their boat, giant waves continued to toss them high. Then Jesus came to his friends, walking through the storm, and sat down in the middle of their troubling circumstances. In his presence and at his word, the waters stilled. There was peace.

Life in our stormy era often provokes a sense of bewilderment and panic. It’s easy to feel tossed about by economic and environmental storms. Institutions we count on for stability are failing; rules that once held firm are violated and broken. People in leadership fall into traps of power-gone-awry. The idols we worship (relationships, success, knowledge, and assets) fail us over and over. Our own performance, to which we have looked for meaning in life (accomplishments, acquisitions, and achievement), has let us down. Since we turned to these sources for security, we feel like victims in a world where we have no control.

So we hunger for real security amid these troubling times. We long for meaning and purpose with a restlessness that can only be satisfied by a personal, vital love relationship with Jesus Christ.

Even now, centuries after Jesus’ physical presence calmed the waters for his disciples, his spiritual presence comes to his children of faith. In that mysterious relationship between Creator and creature, Christ calls the believer to be still and to rest in him. Out of that inner connection with the Savior, direction, guidance, and creativity flow. Out of inner submission, of being “in Christ,” the believer is able to live a fulfilling life.

At the beginning of the last decade, I was hungry for inner stability. I wanted the ability to live from the inside instead of being at the mercy of others’ choices and actions. Through my searching, I discovered a new (yet old) way of praying. I saw that it was possible to live a stable life, grounded and centered in the security of a relationship with Christ. I discovered that there was a way to avoid the trap of knee-jerk living and that the person who depends on God walks in balance. I found that my hunger was for God, and nothing else would fill that hunger. This life of creativity and productivity, of fulfillment and blessing, is possible through prayer.

Numerous people told me they shared this hunger for peace and joy. Theirs was the hunger for the kingdom of God that dwells within. But they didn’t know where to “find God”–the indwelling God. So I began sharing with others, through writing and speaking, what I had found in the practice of prayerful solitude and meditation.

My journey introducing people to the Christian tradition of meditation has had a few potholes along the way. I was stunned to be challenged on a Christian radio interview about my orthodoxy. As a fourth-generation Baptist, a minister’s wife, and a teacher of the Bible, I was appalled at being asked if I was “New Age.” It never occurred to me that a concept permeating Scripture–the concept that God wants a personal, vital love relationship with people–would be held suspect or that the term meditation, used so often in Scripture, would be a “hot” word.

I have defended meditation in my speaking engagements, during workshops, and on the radio. I have challenged wary seekers to retrieve the biblical practice of meditating on the laws, love, and presence of God, just as the psalmist admonishes. I have urged pilgrims to walk with God following the examples of Enoch, Noah, and Isaac. I point to Jesus–who would cross to the other side of a lake or climb to a mountaintop to commune with God. I remind listeners of the high priestly prayer, recorded in John 17, where Jesus himself prayed that we would be one with the Father. I challenge questioners to explore the meaning of John 15 (the vine and branches passage) as well as the Sabbath rest described in Hebrews. I invite them to discover what Paul meant when he said in Philippians 2, “Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus.”

What a shock to discover that people had become afraid of using their God-given gift of imagination! I sometimes address that fear by reminding listeners that something as ordinary as worry is actually picturing, or imagining, bad things happening. But the positive side of picturing allows us–before we take any action–to put our imagination to work. Imagination helps us conceptualize the end product of our creative efforts. Why not employ our imagination in the work of worship?

I have listened to people describe their fears about “visualization” and “imaging.” But I wanted to reclaim imagination for the holy use God designed. I began to assert that imagination need not take us down the path of theological heresy. Indeed, meditating on the presence of Christ is one way to, in Paul’s words, “bring every thought captive to God.” I therefore challenge wary seekers to take Paul’s advice and be transformed “by the renewing of the mind.” Meditating on Scripture and on the presence of Christ is one of the best ways I know of cultivating the mind of Christ.

I have learned that God calls his children to a life of prayer. Out of love, he calls us to love. While I may have thought it was my idea to seek a deeper life of prayer, I now know my impulse was, in fact, a response. I sought God because he first found me. Any inclination I had to his love was the result of his having first loved me.

Meditation, for me, is the act of placing my attention on the love of God and allowing his love to do within me whatever needs to be done at that time. Then I can let God’s love flow through me to his creation and to his children. Creative silence is an exchange of love between God and the believer, and that love manifests itself in the world.

Perhaps the contemplative life of practicing the presence of Christ is calling to you. You may be interested in meditation because of an inner hunger–such as the one I had. Or, perhaps the things you once trusted in no longer give you joy or peace. You may have been tossed about by life’s storms and are responding to Jesus’ invitation to come and draw from the well of living water. You may simply be longing for the love of God.

In The Spiritual Art of Creative Silence, I share my journey of prayer with the hope that it will be a light to others inclined to take this journey. Each chapter describes a part of my journey and is intended to inspire fellow pilgrims in the life of prayer.

The exercises given at the end of each chapter are patterns to be used in nurturing the life of prayer. Consider using them as you would use scale exercises in learning how to play the piano or practice the fundamentals of a sport. Discipline is necessary to encourage a contemplative lifestyle. It is possible to “make retreat” each day by carving out time to spend focused on God’s presence.

As you follow the exercises in this book, you may find it helpful to keep a journal in which you record your pilgrimage of prayer. I personally think journal keeping is helpful in the whole process of spiritual growth.

What a journey the The Spiritual Art of Creative Silence has created for me! In meeting the challenges of my life, I have heard great fears and seen yawning caverns of need. I have met childlike openness and confronted hard, rigid resistance. I have talked with sincere seekers, open critics, scared skeptics, and cynics. Through it all, I have been drawn deeper into the heart of God. May it be the same for you.