WHAT I LEARNED ON THE LAKE
Land of papery birch trees, crystalline lakes and limestone bleached by the sun. From my vantage point the lake stretches out like an inland sea, vast, deep and mysterious. The opposite shore out of sight, across miles of blue, studded with white triangles of canvas turned to catch the breeze. Floating on the surface of the clear tranquil waters of the bay, casting lines and watching our little red bobbers. The lake is deep but clear, affording us a view of underwater rock formations and schools of tiny fish. Our weightless drifting and the lake calm me. I can breathe deeply. The silence enters into the deepest parts of me as I sit with my Dad. No words are spoken, not only because it will scare the fish away but also because no words are necessary. We are content being on the lake and being together.
As we sit in silence, we gradually begin to tune into the sounds of nature speaking. The wind whispers through the leaves, the water speaks endearments to the rocks and our blow-up dinghy. I hear the buzz of flying iridescent wonders, the flapping of just-washed wings. These audible gifts are ours to receive if only we pause and are silent.
TUNING IN
These moments on the lake remind me of how silence and stillness are necessary if I am to hear the still small voice of my Father in heaven. If I pause and listen, I may be to discern the murmur of the One calling me beloved. As with Elijah as he waited on the edge of the mountain to hear from God, we hear only the voices which are louder, more insistent. The whisper of God is difficult to discern over the sometimes-deafening ones and the cacophony of the demands of daily life. Yet in waiting and stillness we can train ourselves to listen for that quiet voice we long to hear. Love whispers a story of our worth, the song previously drowned out by the chatter of distractions.
When it is the voice of Love I listen to, I can begin to live into my identity as a beloved child, and I can relate to others from this healthy place. When I find myself centered and solid, I can love without expecting someone else to create that for me. In the words of Brennan Manning, “Silent solitude makes true speech possible and personal. If I am not in touch with my own belovedness, then I cannot touch the sacredness of others. If I am estranged from myself, I am likewise a stranger to others.”[i]
SHAPING MY IDENTITY
My striving, desire for control, envy, lusting after things or people to fill me become barriers to authentic relationships and even serve to drive others away. They are indicators that I have been missing the connection my heart craves most. The connection which comes from the still and silent times with my Father. It is here that I begin to see the lies I have believed about my worth and identity; those messages keeping me off balance, scrambling for affirmation, keeping me deaf to the whisper of God. Our hearts truly are restless until we find our rest in the One who created us for Himself.[ii]
One of the ways I meet with God my Father is similar to floating and fishing with my earthly father. Times of sitting in stillness and silence enable me to hear more clearly words He would speak to me which bring a knowing deep within my soul, of His love for me. As I come to my “meeting-with-God chair” it is often with hands clenched, holding tightly to those things I have grasped for significance and worth. I take one deep breath, then another. Each inhale a reminder to trust, and each exhale the release of consuming thoughts, and self-sufficient ways.
THE BENEFIT OF SILENCE
Silence becomes a balm. As I sit with God, I feel my shoulders relax, the tension drain, and the buzzing in my brain cease. I am free to just “be”. I don’t need to learn or prove anything; I only receive and recognize the presence of Jesus with me. I am content.
These promises can now be heard, “I will never under any circumstances desert you - nor give you up, nor leave you without support, nor will I in any degree leave you helpless, nor will I forsake or let you down or relax My hold on you - assuredly not!”[iii] Breathing becomes slower, hands open, and rest can come.
As we spend time in the presence of the Creator, we hear the story of who we truly are, and His character begins to be formed in us. With our hearts safely in His keeping, we can learn to love ourselves and others in healthy ways. We can live from the secure place of being the one whom Jesus loves.
[i] Brennan Manning, Abba's Child: The Cry of the Heart for Intimate Belonging
[ii] Augustine of Hippo, Confessions
[iii] Heb 13: 5b AMP