Tag: strength

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The Spiritual Disciplines: Solitude

For many of us, as we continue to practice social distancing to slow the global pandemic, solitude may be on our minds now more than ever. 

I am currently on Day 11 of self quarantine. I work from home, so the quarantine has not changed my lifestyle that much. However, the spiritual practice of solitude has come into sharper focus for me. In wanting to use this time well and in a healthier place than the uncertain climate might try to dictate, I’ve been asking questions like, “How did Jesus practice solitude, and what does practicing solitude look like for us today?” Because, let’s be real, not many of us can just go walk up a mountain like He did.   

Before getting into it, I think it’s important to note that the spiritual discipline of solitude is not the same as simply “being alone.” Just because you are in quarantine or are isolated in your home doesn’t necessarily mean you are practicing solitude. Solitude is actually about fellowship, and it takes resolve (Mark 1:35), even from Jesus. 

The practice of solitude is about the inner fulfillment and inner peace God has provided. 

Peace is something I for one have been needing to hold on to in these strange days that seem to run together and yet go by slowly. Solitude can heighten our awareness of the peaceful presence of God, and how He is at work in us. Who He is provides, and has already provided, our very fulfillment and peace. It is when we resolve to be there, focus, and connect with Him in solitude that we become aware of it. 

Jesus Himself practiced solitude to draw close to God the Father. In his book, The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry, John Mark Comer wrote that solitude, or the wilderness in the spiritual sense, was actually a place of great strength for Jesus. Comer argues that solitude in the wilderness was actually a good thing as Jesus was being tempted. 

He was “led by the Spirit into the wilderness” (Luke 4:1), which is important to note. Jesus was deliberately alone during His testing period with Satan. Whereas isolation is commonly known to be a place of weakness for individuals, Jesus showed that being alone can be a place of great strength when He overcame all the temptations put before Him. Perhaps Satan missed something when he agreed to test Jesus alone. 

In solitude, you aren’t actually alone; God is present and communicating with you. 

Jesus knew this. He “often withdrew to lonely places and prayed” (Luke 5:16). Even in solitude, Jesus said He was never alone; in John 16:32 He said, “you…will leave me alone. Yet I am not alone for the Father is with me.”

I’ve wondered why Jesus would need to be alone if that was the case. If He is God and God was with Him, what was so important and why was it necessary for Him to be alone? Couldn’t He focus on God in a crowd just as easily? 

But I think we can easily forget that Jesus was also human. He was susceptible to distraction like us. He was stretched to His physical limits and bombarded by the needs of others around Him. He also came to show us the rhythm of a healthy God-honoring life. That included solitude–withdrawing alone to be with God and no one else. 

Solitude makes us more aware that God provides the spiritual strength needed to endure and overcome.

Comer writes that Jesus valued solitude over sleep, at certain points. Solitude must be truly vital to our souls if Jesus Himself had to practice it! Especially now during self isolation or quarantine, it is the perfect time to practice solitude and incorporate it into our rhythm of life if it’s not already part of our routines.  

Again, solitude is about inner fulfillment. It’s a place where we can slow down enough to recognize where we might be grasping for fulfillment apart from God, and pray for His help to let that go. In solitude, we make time and space to remember that true fulfillment comes from God alone. In that way, solitude is just like worship. 

Solitude is a form of worship.    

The wilderness, or a place of spiritual solitude, is a recurring place in the Bible. It is a place of testing (Psalm 106:14), a place of purification (Mark 1:3-4), and a place of strengthening (Matthew 4:1). In the wilderness, all the focus is on God (Deuteronomy 8:15), and people are sustained by Him, lacking nothing (Nehemiah 9:21). 

Jesus started His ministry by first spending forty days and nights alone in the wilderness. 

The wilderness can be a place of refinement, a place of gaining confidence, even for Jesus. For us it could be a place where we learn patience, trust in God, and dependence on Him. In Matthew 6:6 solitude allows for more exclusive focus on God. Matthew 14:23 shows solitude as a place of concentrated prayer. Again in Mark 1:35 it is an intentional place of great fellowship with God. Solitude can be a wonderful help in our spiritual journey. Yet it, or any spiritual discipline, isn’t the point.  

The point isn’t the spiritual practice itself, the point is connecting in relationship with God. 

Like all spiritual disciplines, solitude is a tool. Doing the practice is not the end goal. Connection with God is. Prayer is. Worship and communication is. But solitude can be a wonderful place, as Jesus demonstrated by withdrawing often to practice it. It doesn’t always have to be seen as the means to an end, although learning and growth for what is next often occur there. God shows us that being where we are, right where we are, is part of the journey of life that He takes us each on. It takes faithfulness on our part now with what we’ve been given in order to advance to the next step of our journey.

Solitude, or your own spiritual wilderness, may be a beginning place for something amazing in your life. Press in. Talk to God about what that might be and what He’s teaching you while you’re in the wilderness. 

Jesus is the whole point of solitude.

I encourage you to press into the discipline of solitude. As the world is on hold, may you use this unique time to draw close to Jesus.

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3 Things to Keep in Mind During the Holidays

Honestly, I haven’t been in a very thankful mood lately, even though Thanksgiving was just last week. For me, Thanksgiving kicks off the holiday season, which tends to come with a lot of responsibilities. All of a sudden, my mind is always on the next thing and in that state it’s difficult to appreciate what I already have, or what it is I’ve been able to accomplish. Instead, I tend to rush right into the next thing without a pause to enjoy the moment, or the people around me. 

Also, maybe you’re like me and right around Thanksgiving you start taking inventory of the year and your life in general. A new year isn’t far ahead, and the days are short–and broodingly dark. Perhaps you start thinking about how your year has gone and the highs and the lows you’ve experienced. You start the annual process of pinpointing what you’re most thankful for and try to focus on the positive. 

This Thanksgiving, with not just a new year but a new decade approaching, it was just hard for me to get into a grateful mood. I kept thinking about all the things I have left to do before the new year starts. Anxiety and overwhelm set in and wouldn’t budge. Meanwhile I had about 20 things on my to-do list waiting. 

Even so, I thought, “What is wrong with me? Why am I feeling like such a grinch; I mean it’s not even Christmas time yet?” 

My attitude made me–not really ungrateful–but calculated and choreographed, generally stressed and distracted. Dare I say it but I believe it’s impossible to enjoy the holiday or to love people around us in this state. Thankfully (pun intended), there is a better way. In hindsight, I discovered there are three things I could have prioritized above all the items on my to-do list that could have helped to make this holiday better and less stressful. I wanted to share these things with you hoping that they might help make the holidays still yet to come a little brighter.  

1. Being present requires slowing down. 

This sounds so simple, and it is. But it’s difficult to put into practice, especially in a busy season like the holiday season. We all want to be present. We all want to love the people around us well. We all want to enjoy the moments we have. However, the first step to doing that is to actually slow down. So, instead of tackling the next thing on my to-do list with the mindset of just getting to the “good part” of being done, I could have stopped to appreciate what I had already accomplished. Given myself a high five. Made some tea and enjoyed the moment for just 10 minutes. Then, back in touch with the present, maybe then I could start on that next line item. The trick though is to focus on what’s good right now. How often do we do this in the rest of the year? Maybe it’s fairly easy for most of my enneagram type 1s out there, but for me, it’s a struggle to stay present. Friends, it’s worth whatever it takes for you to slow down so that being present is possible. 


2. Prayer is more important than preparation. 

Though preparation for the holiday–cooking, cleaning, gift buying and wrapping, card sending, shopping, etc. can easily take top importance in our minds, prayer can’t be an afterthought. I mean, it can, but that’s what we want to avoid. Prayer often gets bumped down to the very end of the day when I’m too tired to have an honest, healing, helpful conversation with God. This happened to me big time this Thanksgiving; full disclosure. I tried to just push through and get to the part where I could enjoy the holiday, only to find I was so stressed and emotions had been so bottled up, that I struggled to enjoy it. And the worst part was that God felt far away, because I hadn’t been prioritizing prayer. Friends, prayer is the most important thing, in every season. All the preparation in the world, the best food, the best gifts, the cleanest house–it doesn’t mean anything. Connecting with God is everything. Prayer can give rest to a weary soul, and can restore a hurried heart. All of life flows from prayer. Don’t bump prayer for anything else; it’s the lifeline we need. 

3. There are consequences for going on your own strength. 

Jeremiah warns that there are consequences for not turning to the Lord, and His will. I didn’t go on my own strength intentionally; it just happened. I pressed forward in what seemingly needed to be done. Why did I need to pray about going to the market to buy green beans? Oh, but I did ya’ll. Trying to get through on my own strength had a tremendous cost. One day instead of doing what I had planned, I was feeling so down and dark emotionally from the weight of obligation that all I could do was go find a quiet place outdoors to walk and talk to God. I had no strength left anymore to go on my own. There was a cost, a consequence, of not turning to the Lord first. There is significance in giving the Lord everything in our lives, down to the last green bean. Instead of waiting for a meltdown, dealing with life could have been easier if I had given each task over to the Lord in prayer before proceeding. Also I could have given them to God before saying yes to them in the first place. Did I really need to be doing this or that thing? Was it truly my job to do? Instead of asking these things, I had tried to just go forward and handle everything on my own. God warned me of the consequences when I read the passage from Jeremiah a couple of weeks ago. But I didn’t truly get it until after my walk and talk with God. It was so obvious, too; an, “Oh, that’s what He was talking about!” moment. Hindsight–it’s a great teacher.

Friends, for this holiday and all those to come, may we all slow down and walk at the pace Jesus modeled for us–taking the time to truly see one another, choosing what is best, and being present with Him as He is present with us. 

Luke 10:40-42: “But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, ‘Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!’

‘Martha, Martha,’ the Lord answered, ‘you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.’”

Further suggested reading: Garden City by John Mark Comer; The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry by John Mark Comer; To Hell with the Hustle by Jefferson Bethke

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The Joy of Dance

I remember having to sit through my younger sister’s dance recital rehearsal while trying to do math problems. At age 11, anything girly made me roll my eyes. However, out of the 50 or 60 dances, one ballet dance in particular caught my attention even among the racy jazz numbers and the snappy tappers. I found myself being drawn in by the teen ballet set to Tchaikovky’s Waltz of the Flowers. 

It carried me off into another world where everything seemed better.

The dancers looked genuinely happy. The number was synchronized, artistic, and when I finally saw the dress rehearsal, the white costumes with pink sashes and pink flowers made it all just too beautiful to deny. If this was what dancing could look like, I finally understood why people wanted to do it. “If only I could do that,” I thought. Could I? I wrestled for a few weeks, and then decided. I almost surprised myself when I told my mom I wanted to begin ballet lessons.  

I held tight to the dream of being able to dance like the girls in Waltz of the Flowers, to move with grace. The first year or two of classes revealed my deep love of dance; I danced every chance I could. But when I started competing, I lost sight of why I loved dance in the first place. At competitions, dance was instead about external validation. The hope dance had given me for a better more beautiful world took a backseat until there wasn’t much joy in dance for me anymore; after three years I resigned from the dance team. I couldn’t quite bear to stop dancing altogether though.

Nine years after I quit competing, I did stop altogether. At 25, I simply couldn’t dance. Not because I physically couldn’t. Any doctor would have said I was physically capable. But spiritually, I had nothing left. Without being aware or intentional about my relationship with God, I hadn’t been following Him. I had been consistently careless with my heart and mind, and that summer it caught up with me like a ton of bricks. That’ll slow anyone down real quick.

I had lost all sight of the Lord.

It happened so gradually that it was hard to notice. By the time I did notice, I had stopped even trying to pray. I wasn’t following God’s commands, which provide joy. “The precepts of the Lord are right, giving joy to the heart” (Psalm 19:8). My joy had run out, and I felt it. All of a sudden, everything about my life seemed wrong. I had a vague awareness that I had lost something like innocence but at the time I was blind to the Truth of God. I sought the world’s rational, scholarly answers for why this was happening to me. But nothing satisfied. The truth was, my heart hadn’t received true joy, the joy that comes only from God’s grace and love, for quite some time. What I didn’t know then is that joy is a gift I couldn’t work to give myself. 

Joy is a gift from God. 

It took years for me to make sense of it. All I knew at the time was that I had completely lost strength, mentally and spiritually. I didn’t think that had anything to do with God. Even the thought of attending a dance class right across the street, as I had been, was exhausting. I don’t even remember having hope to dance again. Scripture says, “...Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength” (Nehemiah 8:10). However, I was grieving and weak. I was in pain and didn’t know how to escape it. I didn’t know how to come back to God even if I wanted to (I didn’t, and I blamed Him for how I felt). “Joy is gone from our hearts; our dancing has turned to mourning” (Lamentations 5:15). My dancing had indeed turned to mourning; I was lucky just to get out of bed. Having joy was only a distant memory. 

I had no reason to dance anymore.

Thankfully, God is a merciful God. He never stops loving us and He is always waiting for us to repent. He welcomes us back to Him with open arms when we do. He delights in lavishing His gifts upon His children, and by His amazing grace, He restored my joy that was lost. It took years, but eventually I was ready to accept the Truth. In one of my darkest moments, I focused on Truth instead of my own pain, and let go of blaming God. I repented of my sin. Suddenly, I was filled with joy, and I praise God that joy has not left me since. 

About a year later, I slowly started dancing again, taking one class here and another there. I wanted to savor the process this time and to go at my own pace. I was not disappointed. I found that once again, as when I first began to dance, I could express freedom in the movement. I became sensitive again to the beauty and grace of dance that I had fallen in love with at age 11. Dance is an expression of the heart and a wonderful way to express joy. 

Two years ago, I took an opportunity to perform in a ballet. Though I doubt anyone knew it but God, I wanted to perform again as a testament to how far He’s taken me. From the depths of despair to the stage, He stayed with me through it all. 

To express the joy that He restored to me through dance was a gift.

Now I’m in a season of being stirred to dance the way David danced before the Lord, “Wearing a linen ephod, David was dancing before the Lord with all his might,” (2 Samuel 6:14). This year, I’ve had the opportunity to choreograph for a performance. By God’s grace I was inspired with joyful steps and free, expansive movement. I could not have set that kind of piece without the joy of the Lord. This was just a few weeks ago.

Joy is so powerful it often elicits a physical response. Other responses to joy found in the Bible include shouting (Leviticus 9:24), eating (1 Chronicles 29:22), and singing (Psalm 95:1). There are many outward expressions of joy to the Lord; my favorite, as you may have guessed by now, is dancing. 

If I ever doubt that God has restored me and delivered me from sin, I remember how, not so many years ago, I couldn’t even dance one step under the heaviness of darkness. There’s no denying its contrast with the joy that now flows from my spirit, particularly through dance. God worked the miracle of joy in my life. Dance symbolizes my journey of being brought from death to life. And so, I will dance on. 

“You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,” (Psalm 30:11).  

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