Lately I’ve been very bad at Lent.
Last year I gave up all social media. Instead of using this newfound free time to pursue God, I just got hooked on various games on my phone. They weren’t social media, so they weren’t off limits. By the time Easter rolled around, I’d won fifty games of Potion Explosion and reached level 276 in the “Water Sort Puzzle” app. I don’t know if I opened my Bible once.
This year I tried a more nuanced approach. I gave up Reddit, my favorite social platform for humor, discussions, and anonymous anecdote sharing. But a few days into Lent, I wanted to read people’s opinions on The Batman, so I logged into Twitter for the first time in a while. I spent a couple hours immersed in movie takes before realizing this wasn’t in the spirit of what I chose for Lent. So I gave up Twitter too.
I replaced this with Instagram, scrolling through animal pictures and dumb Reel videos inundated with bot comments. Then I went ahead and deleted that app.
Now I scroll through Facebook, even though Facebook is terrible and full of the same dumb videos. But there’s less to do, so I close the app faster, and switch to watching comedy videos on Youtube or reading news and gossip on Buzzfeed. Lent is going great.
I noticed this winter how reluctant I am to be alone with my own thoughts. Maybe it’s my residual loneliness from moving away from my favorite city. Maybe it’s the confines of the home when it’s dark and cold out—feeling like there is nothing new in here, so I have to read about what’s out there.
I feel in every moment that I need to be accomplishing something, even if that something is entertainment. Every spare moment is a chance to be learning or reading or playing or diverting. But I forget that silence, in itself, is an accomplishment.
My husband knows this and sometimes sits in his recliner, eyes closed, simply reflecting. I find this insane. The one time I did it, upon his recommendation, I needed to fill in an adult coloring book as I sat in order to occupy my hands and siphon off my excess mental energy. My fidgety nature makes it difficult to simply be.
I’ve realized that the giving-up model for Lent is meaningless if I don’t make a plan for how I’ll spend time away from the things I’m swearing off. Without a replacement habit, I’ll find some other way to waste time. It’s just my nature.
Last week I pulled Richard Foster’s classic A Celebration of Discipline from its dusty shelf to examine his chapter on the spiritual discipline of solitude and silence. Written in 1978, the book was incredibly prescient about how hard it was becoming, in a noisy world, to connect with God. Spiritual disciplines have become ever more important as a “means of receiving his grace … to place ourselves before God so that he can transform us.”
I have long resented God for not speaking to me, but in my frustration I’ve turned to endless diversions which would hardly give him a moment to get a word in.
Foster looks to Jesus as our model of practicing solitude, who often retreated to a quiet place to commune with his Father. The book describes the goal of spiritual silence as “always carry[ing] with us a portable sanctuary of the heart” so that we may be free to be alone without loneliness, fulfilled inwardly that we might “hear the divine Whisper better.”
I’m so restless to consume and take in information that a “portable sanctuary of the heart” sounds as attainable as a million dollars. But Foster provides some suggestions for taking steps toward this inner solitude.
“The first thing we can do is to take advantage of the ‘little solitudes’ that fill our day,” he says. “Think of the solitude of a morning cup of coffee before beginning the work of the day. … These tiny snatches of time are often lost to us. What a pity! They can and should be redeemed. They are times for inner quiet, for reorienting our lives like a compass needle. They are little moments that help us to be genuinely present where we are.”
In the past few days, I’ve tried to put down my phone while sipping coffee or eating lunch. I’m so unaccustomed to this quiet that so far, I’ve hated it. It feels like I’m wasting my time. But I want to keep practicing. I want to be comfortable in the quiet.
I’m under no illusions that my faith struggles will magically heal if I just put down my phone. These issues preceded my media addiction. And Foster reiterates that simply refraining from doing things, “without a heart listening to God, is not [spiritual] silence.” Meditation and mindfulness practice have become hugely popular in our culture apart from any religious purposes. But seeking silence as a discipline is a step toward mental wellness. And hopefully, that can create opportunity for re-cultivating my desire for God.
When I walk my dog, she doesn’t treat the walk as simply an exercise or something to get through. She stalls and sniffs and dawdles, inspecting the latest footprints in the snow and snuffling at each yard to take in her surroundings. When I try to walk faster so we can be done sooner, she plants her feet until I slow down to her pace. She teaches me to be present.
This morning we went for our stroll as it snowed, and I resisted the urge to turn on a podcast. I listened to the hush of the flakes falling, the pit-pat of her paws, and smelled the air.
I didn’t spend that time thinking about anything of importance, but there was space. There was openness. For a few moments, in between my racing thoughts, there was silence.
Laura graduated from Calvin in 2015 with a degree in art and writing. She lives in Toronto, Ontario, with her husband Josh and dog Rainy. She works as an IT support analyst and enjoys painting, rock climbing, and exploring the city.
2 Comments
Submit a Comment
This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
I know what it’s like to have a mind that keeps jumping around when I want to meditate and pray. I was hoping it would get better as I got older, but it has not. What works best for me is I say “at the name of Jesus, Satan has to flee”! I just keep repeating His name and usually it gets better.
You are describing my own parade of distractions, Laura! I’m trying out the Freedom app during the work day and trying to charge my phone in the other room, but there’s always another way to avoid the things I don’t want to do, and another way to make pleasant noise. Having a dog helps. Stella has no such compulsions.