The Wait

simplicity // 9
the Wait

Recently, I took myself off for an afternoon’s retreat: a walk by the river, time to reflect, a chance to fast and listen and prepare. It was a microcosm of the Lent experience, in a way. And it started beautifully, as these things often do. Within moments of finding the river, I’d seen a kingfisher, which for me is always a sign of God’s catch-fire presence, and I felt greatly encouraged.

But then, things began to unravel. The divine experience I’d envisaged didn’t materialise. The river path was blocked off by workmen and diverted, across a muddy field and alongside a motorway and a railway line. There was noise on the outside, and noise in my head. This wasn’t meant to happen! Is this a sign? Is that a sign..? What’s the point of making the effort?

The path peeled off, and mentally so did I. A snake of steps led me up and away to the crest of a steep hill, where I stopped, discouraged. My phone beeped – I’d forgotten to turn it off – and up popped an e-mail.

“Here’s the Benedictine meditation I meant to send you weeks ago,” wrote a friend with a god-like sense of timing. This is how the meditation went:

In the stilled silence
mind, heart and soul
wait upon God
reach out to God
not thinking
not asking
not doing
just waiting
stilled upon God.

And so, I did just that. Standing on that hillside, I stopped thinking. I stopped asking. I stopped doing. And I started waiting. It’s so easy to contrive these ‘desert experiences’, or to force them, or to feel frustrated when they don’t go to plan. But you can’t force it. You have to wait. Even if it’s for 40 days or more.

And a funny thing happened. From out of the pause, a man appeared, walking along a path in the valley below, and he started calling, loudly. He carried a staff – a crook? - and nothing else. And as he called, sheep emerged from the slopes around me, responding to his voice. I watched, mesmerised, as for five minutes these animals headed purposefully from every direction down the slopes and gathered gently around him. And then they moved off, shepherd and flock, up the path and out of view.

And so did I: not thinking, not asking, not doing, just waiting. Stilled.


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action point:

If you managed to create a rhythm using St Patrick’s Breastplate yesterday, try continuing it today – by using the meditation from my friend. (If you didn’t, give it a try today!) Create three spaces during the day – morning, afternoon and evening – in which you can spend a little time waiting. How could these little ‘windows’ help tp form a positive habit for you?

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rsvp:

“The extract from St Patrick’s Breastplate is now my status on Facebook. I thought it would be good for people to think - as it seems St Patrick's Day has become primarily about Guinness! I truly believe these words - but if Christ is with me, before me, behind me, beneath me, above me, on my right, on my left... then how do I manage to stuff up so often?” Andree

“It just occurred to me that breastplates are there to protect the heart, and thus that which gives life. What apt words to place on something so precious.” Paula

“I'm still thinking about beginnings and endings. I read about a ship's surgeon named John Price, who arrived with his ship 'Minerva' in Sydney Harbour in 1800. He became one of the first Europeans to observe the curious animal known as a Platypus; the bill of of a duck, the fur of an otter and webbed feet. His journal, quoted by David Attenborough in ‘Life Stories’, reveals that: ‘His European prejudices led him to describe this astonishing animal as typical of the 'helpless, deformed and monstrous' creatures that are found in 'remote solitudes'". I imagine that John Price would be even more astounded at Attenborough's own description of the platypus, including the fact that it lays eggs like a bird, out of which hatches a tiny mammal that feeds on a milky secretion from its mother. Interestingly, no modern scientist has yet managed to film the eggs being laid or hatched in the deep burrows of a river bank where the platypus nurtures its young. This illustrates, for me, our prejudices and preconceptions at the beginning of a new discovery or journey. So my prayer is that I can be free from my own past history as I step out into Lent 40.” Sandra

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May you have patience, today.
Go well!

Brian