Day 1: The Quiet Place

What if the greatest threat to the Christian faith today isn’t secularism but distraction?

We live in an era where it’s possible to go through your entire life and never be alone; even when we’re “alone,” we’re on our phone, on the internet, or in our entertainment queue. Cal Newport, in his book Digital Minimalism, writes, “It’s now possible to completely banish solitude from your life.”

How many moments have I missed where God wanted to speak to me or shape me, but I was distracted by my devices?

In Luke 5, we read that “Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.” The phrase “lonely places” is the English translation of the Greek word eremos. But eremos can also be translated as the desert, the solitary place, or, my personal favorite, the quiet place. Jesus would regularly disappear out into that wide open space, all by himself, to pray. Luke tells us “he often withdrew” to the eremos.

Now, this pattern has come to be called the practice of Solitude. To start, let me clarify what solitude is not.

First, it’s not loneliness: loneliness is a felt absence; solitude is a felt presence.

Secondly, it’s not isolation: isolation is a movement away from relationship; solitude is a movement toward relationship.

Finally, it’s not aloneness. Aloneness is what we introverts love: It’s when we’re not with other people, but we may be texting people or watching TV or reading a book, or folding laundry. We’re alone, but we’re not in solitude.

So, what is it? Very simply, the practice of solitude is intentional time in the quiet with ourselves and God. One way to think about solitude is as a place that is free of inputs. The only inputs are God and your heart laid open before him.

This is why solitude has two companions: silence and stillness.

Silence is pretty self-explanatory, but there are two dimensions to silence: Exterior silence, where you silence noise outside you. It’s quiet. But the second dimension is interior silence. Where you attempt — and this is easier said than done — to quiet all the thoughts, worries, emotions, and rumblings of the heart inside you.

This, in turn, is designed to lead to stillness. Stillness is coming to a place where the troubled waters of your heart settle down like a glassy lake early in the morning. And you’re just there, waiting.

What I find when I go into solitude is that as I decompress from the overstimulation of the modern world, my body and central nervous system begin to calm. I slow down from all the hurry, traffic, and pathological busyness. And I begin to feel. I’m forced to confront the good, the bad, and the ugly in my own heart. All my anxieties, ambitions, and addictions- it all comes up. All of it is exposed in the safe place of God’s loving presence. And in solitude, I hear the voice of God over the din of all the other voices, within and without. I get God’s perspective on my life. And often, I come to a place of freedom — success and failure both lose their power over my heart, as does the approval or disapproval of other people. In solitude, it’s like I come home.

But when I neglect solitude, I feel distant from God. I feel distant from myself. I get more and more reactive. I lose God’s perspective on my life. And above all, I get so tired, become emotionally unhealthy, and ultimately become vulnerable to temptation. These are the signs and symptoms of a life without solitude.

And to clarify, the eremos isn’t just a place, it’s a practice. You can practice this in your daily life — walking to a park down the street from your house, sitting in your backyard at night, or getting up early before your family or roommates are awake. Or, like Jesus, by staying up late.

How do we make space for God? The same way as Jesus, we retreat, we slip away, and find a quiet place. And there we pray.

Do you want to come close to God? Then, follow Jesus into the quiet place.