Lectio
“It is the place of love unfulfilled, a place where there is no rest save that of union with the one who draws us there, no beauty save the face of the one we seek. This is the domain of God. The place in which we sit in silent prayer.”
— James Finley, The Awakening Call
Meditatio
Christ calls us to step out into the unknown with Him. He invites us onto the waters of faith where we must face all that is in us that is not God, but not alone, for even when we do not see or hear or feel Him, He is with us. There will be times, however, when this does not feel true.
As we approach this process of letting go of all that is familiar, as we step into the depths of faith and holy solitude, we will inevitably experience periods of perceived darkness, aloneness, and forsakenness. Christ’s cross holds nothing back and needs nothing added; and yet we are still asked to die — not to finish what He began, but to be drawn into it, so that His death becomes our own and His rising becomes ours as well.
While God often provides the faithful with comfort and consolation, our death to all that is not God will often feel like despair and desolation as our grasping for all that is finite and familiar begins to give way and we find ourselves being drawn into the vastness of eternity where there is no worldly hiding place or resting place.
Silent prayer is an invitation into this vastness. For those who are so called, it is the voice of Christ from across the open sea, saying, “Come.” Step out in faith. I am here. Come to Me. And every step toward Him is another step away from our earthly home, a step away from what is familiar and comfortable, and a step toward that which only offers one thing: Christ.
Every faithful return to silence is a step further into what often feels like darkness, aloneness, and forsakenness — a love unfulfilled. Each time we seek God alone in quiet, wordless prayer, we take a risk. We take a risk that we will not find Him, or rather that He will not be there when we arrive. The further we get from shore, the more we begin to realize that we cannot go back — that we cannot rest apart from Him who calls us — and, worse still, we cannot go on without His help.
In the middle of the open sea of dark silence, we realize that we are completely and utterly powerless apart from His power. We realize that there is no meaning apart from Him, no beauty apart from Him, and no salvation apart from Him. And we realize that it is exactly when and where He feels most absent and we feel most helpless, most frightened, and most alone, that we are, in fact, with Him. The darkness, the emptiness, and the vast eternity where there is no earthly foothold or handhold, and no worldly comfort, is Christ holding us in His loving arms, enveloping us within His very self — we are neither lost nor abandoned, but at home in and with Him.
Oratio
Unknown Forest
Your arms outstretched
before me
waving in the breeze
shadows and light
dance upon You
taunting me
teasing me
with nearness
at once give
and then withdrawn
calling me forth
drawing me out of my comfort
into the unknown forest
where life plays and hides
arise young one
take up your bed and walk
I have been here
since the beginning
I will be here at the end
let go of what you desire
to possess
die to who you were
take My hand in life
I will give you everything
Contemplatio
Notice where you feel most alone, most far from any foothold — that very place may be where He is holding you closest. You do not have to feel Him to trust that He is there. Rest here a while longer, offering no resistance to His presence, and let Him do with you what only He can do.
Related Scripture
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.”
— Isaiah 43:2 (NRSVCE)
For Further Reading
If you enjoyed this post, you may also like Little Bird, Be At Peace: The God Who Delights In Your Rest (Lectio Divina), which turns from this post’s risk of stepping into deep water toward the quieter trust of resting in His sight, even when we cannot feel Him watching.
Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity.
Wrestling With God.
Returning To Love.
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