An Experiment with Silence (Part I)

This year I started off Lent in silence. I don’t just mean I took some time on the morning of Ash Wednesday to quietly pray by myself. I mean that for the first week of Lent I didn’t speak—at least not very much. For several reasons, I decided that experimenting with silence would be helpful. This post will explore some of those reasons.

I first considered practicing silence several months ago. You may remember early on in my Mission Year experience a post about solitude and new prayer practices I had enjoyed at a retreat one weekend. In the extended time of silence, I had the opportunity to explore prayer, scripture reading, meditation, and contemplation in ways that I longed to for a while. Excited by my experiences, I continued to read about solitude and silence and found Richard Foster’s suggestion to try it out for a day. I wanted to learn more about myself and God through silence, and I casually tossed around the idea of prolonged silence with my Mission Year team who supported the idea.

Time went on, and the experiment and excitement was filed away. Now I'm reading through Foster’s classic book on spiritual disciplines, Celebration of Discipline. When I reached the chapter on solitude, I decided to take up the idea of silence once more. The timing was perfect. The week after I read the chapter, Lent started. And silence aligned well with the fast that my church is practicing this Lenten season: no negative words about people (others or self). I figured silence would be a perfect way to launch into this fast.

Why?

I was excited about silence for several reasons:

The Lord has been convicting me about my speech for several years now. I have realized that sarcasm, playful jokes at the expense of others, and flippant responses like “Your mom!” may seem harmless but actually can be deeply damaging, especially over time. The way we talk to one another is so ingrained in us that I haven’t yet found a good approach to changing it. Silence seemed simple—and drastic—enough to make some dent.

I’ve also become more aware over the past few months of the ways that I use speech to manipulate and convince people. I enjoy ideas, words, and communication. That’s why I write so much. My strong grasp of how to use language can be a tool for my selfish desires. What is a good thing can be used toward a not good end. I've noticed I use language as a way to control conversation and steer it where I would have it go, especially in a conversation over some disagreement. Living in community, we have many discussions where we make group decisions, and in those times have I realized this trend.

I fear the way I use language. My skill in communication gives me power, and I don’t want to use it take advantage of others. So I silenced myself. As an act of submission, as a tool to expose my speech patterns, as a reminder to listen, I silenced myself.

Well, not totally. Mostly just within my house was I silent. I still had to talk at work and church, and when neighbors came over I would entertain them just the same. You may be able to imagine that it’s kind of difficult to explain to someone why you won’t speak to them…without using words. But whenever possible, and always when I was with my team, I was silent. I participated normally in our weekly schedule—morning devotions, team meetings, family dinner, grocery list-making, even curriculum discussions!—silently.

And I learned so much. But I’ll save those thoughts for another blog. Watch for part II, and if you want an email notification when it’s posted, use the form box in the top right corner of this page.

UPDATE: Read Part II by clicking here!

Reflections on Solitude

Last weekend my team gathered with the two other teams in Philly to take a retreat of silence. We drove about 2 hours out of the city, past the suburbs, to the hilly countryside of rural York County, PA (on the other side of Lancaster County). Recently we’ve been reading Henri Nouwen’s book The Way of the Heart, in which he discusses the practices and stories of the Desert Fathers (and Mothers) who retreated from society in the 200s to seek the Lord with the whole of their lives, uninfluenced by the tainting effects of the world. We have discussed what we can learn from such communities and have adapted practices like a daily quiet hour every morning to allow space for solitude in our otherwise busy schedules.

These are elements of Mission Year that have been a pleasant surprise. There are many reasons I applied to MY: relocation to an under-resourced neighborhood, living in Christian community, cross-cultural church experience, work experience in a non-profit…but spiritual disciplines has surfaced as a bonus to my MY venture!

This retreat served as a culmination of all that we’ve learned so far about ancient practices in solitude. As an introvert who uses solitude and isolation often to rest and recharge, I entered the retreat excited to engage in some of the new practices I’ve learned about.

Early on in the twenty-four hour retreat I realized that I have mastered the physical aspect of solitude. I fully participate in the busy-ness of our society, and as an introvert I cope with it by retreating to my empty room. I often choose the comfort of a quiet room to the stimulation of a crowd. I’ve grown very comfortable with hanging out with just myself. While others on the retreat expressed discomfort with silence or isolation, it was normal for me.

I may have mastered the physical aspect of solitude, but the busy-ness I faced at the retreat was busy-ness of my mind. Usually in my introverted isolation, my main task is thinking. I’m constantly figuring things out, and I find peace in the solutions I come up with. Often in prayer I struggle to steady my mind and thoughts. I am so used to racing through ideas that I often find myself trying to remember how I digressed so far from the starting point. I realized that I use practices such as journaling, scripture study, and praying from lists to help focus my thoughts. I avoid open, unstructured practices because I know my mind will leave them.

Considering these things, I prayed “I need a solitude that is not so selfishly about me figuring things out. Lord, open me up, out of my head, to encounter you—not me—in solitude.”

The hours that followed were filled with practices such as breath prayer, prayers from the saints, and assuming physical positions to express the attitudes of my heart. I spent time (lots of time) clearing my mind and when I finally did, I asked, “What next?” My runaway thinking patterns finally subdued, I wanted to do something with the silence of my mind! In the face of my persistent busy-ness, I sought more patience and contentment with simplicity of prayer. I had to accept the idea of having no agenda to my time except to empty my mind.

I am excited for this process. The retreat gave me time to explore things I’ve wanted to do for a while. And ultimately my question, “What next?” is not entirely foolhardy. Nouwen writes that the objective of solitude is what he calls “prayer of the heart,” which forms and re-forms the one praying. I concluded the retreat excited to keep pushing toward transformation through prayer practices. I have committed time each week on my Friday Sabbaths to these practices, seeking the ‘way of the heart.’ As you pray for me and my team, pray not just for relationships or safety or opportunities to love others. Pray also for the formation of our hearts through encounter with God in prayer.