Peruse a devotional book in the contemplative stream, and you will often find the initial call of every reading is first the call to “come to stillness.”
Coming to stillness seems to be the hurdle of my personal devotion. The tasks of devotion are pleasant enough. Reading the Bible is often enjoyable and productive. The silent reflection I welcome. And I certainly have plenty for which to pray.
The problem is not what I find in stillness. It’s simply coming to stillness.
I recently purchased a book of prayers to be recited at the various prayer hours of the day (lauds, none, vespers, compline). Amidst the busyness of ministry trips, I determined to mark my days with prayer.
Each time I have prayed the prayers I have felt blessed and more centered. Again, the task I like, but the difficulty has been coming to stillness.
I carry the prayer book around everywhere, but so far, a couple weeks in, I have largely blasted past the hours of prayer, the book’s ribbon unmoved.
Coming to stillness.
It is the call away. It is the call to trust. It is the call to rest. It is the great risk of all devotion. To come to God, we must quiet ourselves and wait. We must bear the inactivity. We must believe the silence will speak.
Coming to stillness.
It is the antidote to busy and cluttered souls. It is the balm of the battered and buffeted. It is phone turned off, the television black, the sound of bird and blowing air.
Coming to stillness.
Movement starts in stillness. Strength grows in rest. Words come in silence. Insight comes from seeing. Stop. Look. Listen.
Come to stillness.
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