I was so tired, so weary. The past couple weeks had been stressful for a variety of reasons, and something about the period of Advent, despite all my efforts for it not to be so, feels hurried, frenetic, accelerated. Being off social media had taken a lot of stimuli out of my life, and my brain had kind of settled, the way a new house's foundation settles after a few years.
I had nothing to document, nothing to share, and nothing to put out there. I wanted to be with the Lord without an agenda. I had no energy for formal prayers, novenas, and schedules. Walking alone in the woods, even if it's just for an hour, feels like a way to reconnect with where I had my first encounter with the Lord, in nature, in my helplessness and away from any social influence. A honeymoon of sorts.
I walked along and just quietly prayed, "Lord, be with me. Lord, I want to be with you." I stopped on a bridge over a creek and sat down to read the daily readings from my Breviary app. The birth of Sansom. The birth of John. Hairy men. No strong drink. Destined for solitude. A fox bounded through the thicket, a flash of orange leaping and darting. I walked along, hands in pocket, crystal breath. I had nothing to share, nothing to offer, nothing to document, nothing to come to the table with. My writing had dried up with the stimuli from social media, the constant ideas from scrolling and gorging on news and writing and insight. The air was still, the creek gurgled and belched, the tall yellow brush grass matted and wet like a mop of hair. There was no one around. I was alone, and I felt alone.
So much of what we do we do for show. What do you do when there is no one to show to, and when you have nothing to offer? You are both empty handed and standing before an empty auditorium. It's unnerving, but only because I had gotten so away from this place, from a core of being that isn't defined by externals.
Something is brewing. I am fighting some hard battles right now--against demons of acedia, depression, pride, vainglory, idolatry. I am weary, and I am weak. I come before Him empty handed to sit at His feat. He gives me rest. He nourishes my soul. But I am in need of healing as well. Something is being reborn, and only time will tell what that might be. In the meantime, I prayed one of my favorite psalms, sitting on the bridge, the creek gaggling and rushing on to nowhere beneath my feet, forgetting where it came from, and forgetting me too. I lie down to sleep, and peace comes at once. For you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety.
Answer me when I call, O God of my right! Thou hast given me room when I was in distress. Be gracious to me, and hear my prayer.
O men, how long shall my honor suffer shame? How long will you love vain words, and seek after lies?Selah But know that the Lord has set apart the godly for himself; the Lord hears when I call to him.
Be angry, but sin not; commune with your own hearts on your beds, and be silent.Selah Offer right sacrifices, and put your trust in the Lord.
There are many who say, “O that we might see some good! Lift up the light of thy countenance upon us, O Lord!” Thou hast put more joy in my heart than they have when their grain and wine abound.
In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for thou alone, O Lord, makest me dwell in safety. (Ps 4)