The Adventure of Stillness

Adventure:
–noun
a bold, usually risky undertaking; hazardous action of uncertain outcome.

I’m not typically very adventurous. I don’t like risk. I like steady, calm and faithful. I like having fun, I am somewhat curious and I enjoy spontaneity a great deal, but if it involves even the slightest possibility of losing something important to me, I’m not going to get involved. Adventure to me is a trip somewhere completely new with nothing but an extra pair of underwear and a toothbrush in my carry on. I would have to get what I need and fly by the seat of my pants, meeting people, asking questions and discovering things that aren’t on the brochure. I guess to me adventure is more on the side of a scavenger hunt than a bear hunt. I don’t want to have to find anything that might just be looking for me too.

Kris and I are a bit different in this category. To him a trip like I described is more risk than he wants to take. It sets his planners brain on edge and causes him to wrap his dollar bills more tightly inside his wallet. He can think of multiple scenarios where this sort of adventure could be disastrous and his only goal is to get out of the situation as quickly and at as low a cost as possible. Yet, he’d happily jump out of an airplane if given the opportunity.

Regardless of what our differing definitions of adventure are, neither of them seem to blend well with the idea of stillness. Stillness is defined as: silence; quiet; hush. How can adventure be associated with these descriptions? I want to tell you so bad!

I mentioned in a previous post that I am intrigued and fascinated by the idea of stillness, what it means beyond it’s definition, what it means to me as a Christian. The Bible tells me that being still is a pre-requisite to knowing that He is God in Psalm 46:10. Doesn’t that make you want stillness? It does me. Exodus 14:13 and Joshua 3:8 show us stillness was a command of God before He parted the waters for Moses and his Protégé. Before many of God’s great miracles, before much of His instruction, in the midst of many revelations we read about stillness. Even His voice is described in I Kings 19:12 as still and small. He leads us by still waters in Psalm 23 (you knew I had to mention it), He defeats armies (II Chronicles 20:17) with stillness and causes a young woman to secure her future (Ruth 3:18). Stillness is what Jesus commanded of the sea (Mark 4:39), and became His posture when hearing of his friend Lazarus’ illness (John 11:6). Our God is a fan of stillness and when I think more on the topic I think of our own practices and the many ways God uses stillness to prove Himself. Our faith determines our stillness. Our stillness determines His action.

Stillness can seem like an exercise in foolishness. It is a vulnerability that few are willing to risk. Why do we not see more miracles? We are not still. Why don’t we hear God’s voice? We are not still. What could God do in us if we reserved our own desires, our own strength and traded our restlessness for the supernatural quiet of stillness?

The Psalmist made mention many times his need for stillness, to trust in God enough to remain vulnerable in the situation he was in. This call to stillness can feel like a death sentence, it can feel like a command to become a stoic monument to foolishness. Stillness is not encouraged in this life, there are few examples of it. We are a society on the move, we are a people of action and stillness doesn’t stand out as a mentionable criteria for success.

Yet there is a continuous thread in the Word of God directing us toward that hush, where God’s voice is heard more clearly, that quiet where His songs over us enable us to dance, and that silence where His Spirit so willingly approaches us to comfort and encourage. It is a necessary ingredient to witnessing the miraculous and a powerful factor in experiencing His grace. In order to experience God, we must at some point become still.

But how? As a mom it’s nearly impossible to find those pockets of quiet in our days. It’s difficult to schedule in the ever wavering moods and actions of little ones. It’s even harder to seclude ourselves and truly find a quiet place and time. I treasure those moments when I find them and I know many of you do as well. I think they are crucial and I hope I never take them for granted once the little voices are no longer attempting to overpower the still and small one in my heart.

I do believe that “quiet times” are something to seek and strive for but God showed me something last night that encouraged me so much. In my quest to continue as faithful in the road I find myself lately, I am constantly asking if I’m in the right place. Have I missed anything? Show me where I am and for me personally I often ask for a picture. My understanding is enlightened and impacted more profoundly with visual remembrances or stories that communicate God’s messages. He often obliges me and I’m so grateful.

Last night I recalled a situation many years ago when I was still traveling with Images. We were staying on the beach between two bookings in the area and had a few days of free time to spend as we wished. One of these days we decided to rent wave runners and take them out on the gulf and have a little fun. It was incredible. I have never had so much fun with a motorized vehicle since. I’ve taken wave runners on the lake before and though it is very fun, there is nothing like the waves of a huge body of water that can give you that rush. I asked the guy we were renting from, how far out into the gulf can we go? He said 1 mile was as far as he would want anyone to take them. I asked how we would know when we had gone a mile and he replied, when you can’t see the people on the beach anymore. You’ve gone too far. So I did it. After playing around for a little while and becoming comfortable on the machine I headed out to sea. I turned around every now and then to see how far I had gotten and though I felt like I had been driving forever, I could still see clearly, the crowd on the sand. I kept going and finally even though I could still make out colors, sizes, shapes and even actions of the people on shore I stopped and something like fear gripped me. It wasn’t the depth of the sea beneath me, the size of the body of water wasn’t any more impressive to me from where I was, it was the stillness that shook me. I could hear nothing of the laughter and noise from the shore. I could hear myself breathing and I could hear the water hitting the sides of the wave runner, I could hear the motor running smoothly, but I couldn’t hear the rest of the world, and I knew that were I to scream at the top of my lungs…they couldn’t hear me either. I reasoned with myself that nothing was going to happen but I couldn’t stay. I had to get back to the bustle of civilization. I rode hard and eventually shook off the shiver that had come to the back of my neck.

Last night I knew that I was there again. Out in the wilderness so to speak, I am somewhat alone there and the distance between me and normalcy is uncomfortable. I can see the danger of where I am and as I realized the similarity in my current circumstance and my long ago ride on the gulf I said, “God, bad things do happen to people in situations like that. People do have accidents, run out of gas, fall, and they even die.” He said, “but you didn’t.” And He was right. It suddenly came to me that He is not trying to test my faith or help me overcome any fear, those are side items on His agenda. He is drawing me toward the adventure of stillness. How great is His presence when no other presence is available? How clear is His voice, when no other voice can reach me? How big are the opportunities that no one else is still enough to listen for?

Stillness isn’t only a quiet place to commune with God, it is also the places we reach when we have dared to follow Him past our fear and pain. It is not the end of a journey, but it is definitely the most adventurous path to take.