I woke early this morning, still on Spanish time. Yes, I know it’s only an hour difference, but I like the thought of a wee bit of jetlag as I reflect on the week at El Palmeral and move back into family life in London. Jetlag – especially the proper “I’ve crossed many time zones” jetlag – can be a means not only of adjusting our bodies to the different culture, but our hearts and minds too. I feel we leave a bit of our hearts in the places we’ve been, especially when we leave dear people behind. These longings reflect our deepest longings for our Home and Homemaker.
In Spain I try to take photographs that make me pause. The beauty of people and a much different climate and plants that I’m used to jolt me into wonder and thanks to a God who oozes creativity. Enjoy these photos, perhaps pausing to ponder.
Most mornings I’d be greeted by an amazing sunrise. “Morning by morning, new mercies I see…”Many of our free moments were spent enjoying the pool.Sun rising behind the cacti.Date palm trees.Makes me think of Jesus turning water into wine.These flowers smell as good as they look! There’s a wall of them close to one of the sunloungers I enjoyed making my own. (Hey, I am 1/4 German. And I wasn’t keeping anyone from ‘their’ sunlounger!)A close-up.Gorgeous fresh figs with honey and blue cheese. Scrumptious.Lovely kebabs.Hmm… this retreat leading gig isn’t so bad…The lady, glowing in the night.Chapel forms an integral and special part of any visit to El Palmeral. Celtic morning prayer and compline provide the framework.
I hear that bookings are starting to come in for the retreat I’m leading at the fabulous El Palmeral in Spain in June. Could you join us?
This retreat is one of my most favorite weeks. The setting is tremendous – Julie and Mike Jowett have set up a haven of hospitality in the desert. The dry heat envelops us as we feast on amazing Spanish cuisine and enjoy the company of the other guests. There is plenty of space for time on one’s own too – the gardens are lovely for quiet reflection, including a labyrinth. My favorite is sitting by the pool.
This year the theme we’ll explore is:
Finding Ourselves in God: We all face changes in life – we lose or gain a job, we experience a bereavement, if we’re parents our kids grow up – and these changes may lead us to wonder, “Who am I? With a different role, what’s left of me?” When this search for faith, home and identity lands on God, we find our true home and true self. Join Amy for inspiring sessions with plenty of time for guided prayer exercises.
To find out more, check out their website at El Palmeral, including contact details. Mike and Julie run other themed retreats, or you may prefer a time-out retreat on your own.
Lovely hosts, Julie and Mike.The labyrinth.Night prayer in the chapel is atmospheric.Local paella – yum!
What’s the Lord to you? Your Shepherd? Director? Boss? Father? Friend?
Photo: Suzy Bower, flickr
Recently, when reaching the end of a retreat, I led a group of women in an exercise of engaging with Psalm 23. We talked through this beloved psalm of David, imaginatively placing ourselves in it, and asking such questions as: Is the Lord my shepherd? Do I graze with the flock? Does he lead me beside quiet waters? Can I fear no evil? Do I feast with the Lord? Do I live in God’s house? (I recommend giving this a try – you might be surprised by how God speaks to you through these familiar words.)
Our exercise was to personalize Psalm 23. I read them my version from a writer’s point of view, but delighted in their creativity when, at the end of the exercise, they read me theirs. With permission, I reproduce two here:
The Lord is my strength, I lack nothing
He makes me lie down in green pastures
He leads me beside quiet waters He strengthens me
He guides my feet along the right path for His name sake
Even when I go through difficult and trying times He strengthens me
I WILL NOT FEAR FOR YOU ARE WITH ME YOUR PRESENCE AND PROMISES COMFORT ME
You prepare a table before me in my times of doubt and fear
You anoint my head with oil and my cup overflows
Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life
I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever
The Lord is my closest Friend.
He knows everything about me.
He draws me to a quiet place and refreshes me.
He brings everything back into perspective and renews me.
Even when I go through the storms of life He is right there beside me.
He rescues me from evil, heals, comforts and restores me.
He prepares a banquet before me in the presence of all my enemies.
He anoints me with His precious Spirit and my cup overflows.
Surely blessings and love will be with me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the Lord’s house forever.
Why not, this weekend, take some time and write your own?
One from the archives. I wrote this for Quiet Spaces
in 2008; it later appeared in Woman Alive and then in
Inspiring Women Every Day. And now for its final
resting place…
The incongruity of reading a murder mystery during a time set apart for communion with God was finally too much even for me. I packed up K Is for Killer in my duffel bag and vowed not to open the zipper.
I was at my favorite place of retreat, where I had met God previously. There I had decided against entering a marriage commitment; there I had received a fresh filling of God’s Spirit; there had I entered his presence in quiet and gentle ways. This time, however, I felt far from the Lord. I knew in my head that he was there even if I didn’t feel his presence, but my heart wasn’t so sure.
I had been silent for hours but was not truly quiet—the voices screaming inside drowned out any still, small voice of God. I was filled with pain and doubt. “Are you really speaking to me, God?” I cried out. “Is that really you I’m hearing, or is it just my heart? Or something else? I don’t want to anchor my life on what’s not real. Are you there? Can I hear you?”
Anguish had filled me for weeks. I had announced that I was leaving the Christian organization I was working for to join another Christian group in a different city, but my plans had fallen through. Bottomed out, more like it. The opportunities I was pursuing evaporated as the doors slammed in my face. The embarrassment of announcing my intentions and then not leaving was painful, but more devastating was my belief that God had directed the move.
I yearned for God, yet couldn’t bear to approach him. After a few weeks, however, I knew I needed a place of quiet in which to face the pain and to seek God’s solace. Having made arrangements with the retreat centre, I began my time alone with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Yet here I was reading the latest Sue Grafton novel. I came to my senses and lugged my Bible, journal, and a blanket down to the nearby pond for a change of scene. After gazing at the serene waters and the wildlife around it, I was finally able to pour out my pain, disappointment, and confusion to the Lord. In the silence and solitude he met me; God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit surrounded and silenced me with his love and peace. Once again, my heart knew and believed.
It would take many years of growing in maturity before I would be more confident in discerning the still, small voice of God. But that day at the convent was a turning point in my relationship, for once again I was able to trust and receive assurance from him. It was only when I silenced the competing voices and offered up to the Lord my unrealized hopes and dreams that I was able to enter into a deep quiet and hear his voice.
The roar of the stillness
Why is the spiritual discipline of solitude and its close partner silence so difficult for us modern people? The answer is seemingly obvious—we have manifold possibilities with which to fill our lives, much of it via the online world and our smartphones. Technology surely contributes to the cacophony surrounding us, but a deeper answer resides in the condition of the human heart. Blaise Pascal was onto it back before Blackberries (in the 1600s) when he said that all our miseries derive from not being able to sit alone in a quiet room.
What do you hear? The Whispering Arch at the monastery at Clonmacnoise in the Republic of Ireland. According to legend, here the monks would listen to confessions; the confessor would stand at one end of the arch and the monk on the other side. Only the monk could hear the whispered sins.
Or Augustine of Hippo in his famous line from his Confessions puts it succinctly: “For you have formed us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you.” The God-shaped vacuum inside of us cries out to be filled. If we don’t turn to God, we will look to something else, such as pulp fiction, food, wine, sex, shopping, or even the building of God’s kingdom. Turning down the volume of the outside noise and taking away the comfort-crutches leaves us on our own, naked before God. And for many, like me on that day in the convent, that is chilling.
Indeed, silence is frightening, Dallas Willard says in his fine book The Spirit of the Disciplines, “because it strips us as nothing else does, throwing us upon the stark realities of our life. It reminds us of death, which will cut us off from this world and leave only us and God.” He continues, “In solitude, we confront our own soul with its obscure forces and conflicts that escape our attention when we are interacting with others…. We can only survive solitude if we cling to Christ there.”
And that is what I found; when I finished falling, I landed on Christ. Never are there more welcoming arms; never is there a more solid foundation.
“Be still and know”
Many of us run from solitude and silence, but these disciplines are vital to a flourishing and robust spiritual life. Setting aside time in the day, week, month, and year to be alone with God will feed our souls as nothing else will. I hear you respond, “My schedule is already too full—I can’t possibly fit in another thing.” As a parent of young children, I can relate. At such stages of life—or, for example, if you’re caring for a sick loved one—an offsite retreat may be out of the question.
Richard Foster in his classic Celebration of Discipline speaks to this dilemma:
Solitude is more a state of mind and heart than it is a place…. If we possess inward solitude we do not fear being alone, for we know that we are not alone. Neither do we fear being with others, for they do not control us. In the midst of noise and confusion we are settled into a deep inner silence. Whether alone or among people, we always carry with us a portable sanctuary of the heart.
He recommends that we make the most of what he calls the “little solitudes” of the day, such as the early morning before the family awakes, during our morning cuppa, while in traffic or commuting, when we glimpse a tree or a flower. As he says, “These tiny snatches of time are often lost to us. What a pity! They can and should be redeemed.”
But maybe you are able to get away for a twenty-four hour (or longer) retreat for silence and solitude. I’ve always found the best settings to be those nestled in a lovely spot of nature, for there are fewer distractions and the surroundings themselves lead to worship of the Creator. The trees of the wood sing out in joy before the Lord; the sea roars and the fields rejoice. God’s handiwork is awe-inspiring and produces a grateful heart.
One of my strong petitions while on retreat (and not limited to then) is to enter into a deep silence so that I can hear the voice of the Lord and receive from him. I’m easily distracted and, like Martha while Jesus was visiting, “worried and upset about many things” (Luke 10.41). For me to release those niggles often takes a conscious effort in prayer, usually through writing out my meditations on a verse of Scripture or spending time praising the Lord in song. For example, in seeking quietness I might pray through a verse from Isaiah (30:15): “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength…” But sometimes what I need most is simply a nap – and that’s the most “spiritual” thing I can be doing.
Whether we’re able to get away for a couple of hours, a couple of days, or not at all, the practice of solitude and silence can bring us not only into communion with God, but into a newfound freedom. Through it we can be released from the need to fill our time with words, distractions, self-soothing behavior, or the pressing desire for the approval of others. For when Jesus says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest,” we can believe and know that he is speaking to us.
As we meet with the God of the universe, the One who bids us call him Abba, we are changed into his likeness. His presence is beyond compare—far and above any murder mystery.
When I think of retreat centers, the images that come to mind are draughty convents with sparse rooms and stodgy food. Places to meet God, but not necessarily somewhere that allows you to relax fully or feel pampered. But recently I enjoyed a week’s retreat at El Palmeral in Spain, which blew away any preconceptions of a retreat entailing suffering for the Lord. It was more of a “holi-treat,” a delightful fusion of a retreat and a holiday (or maybe even a “holy-treat”!). We certainly encountered God, but we also soaked up the Mediterranean sun, splashed in the pool, feasted on glorious Spanish cuisine, and even hooted with laugher during a group film night. (The Blues Brothers – after all, they were on a mission from God.) I hasten to add that the introverts were free to escape to their room or to a quiet place in the grounds for their needed space.
Our focus for the week was “Adventures in Prayer,” so we engaged with different types of communication with God – confession, listening prayer, practicing the presence of God, and walking the labyrinth among others. I may have been leading the retreat, but I gained so much, not only from the guests, but from the Lord as I received peace, love, affirmation and direction during the times of individual reflection.
One of the unexpected gifts was the rhythm of Celtic Daily Prayer (as produced by the Northumbria Community) in the morning and evening, led by our hosts, Julie and Mike Jowett. I loved meeting in the outdoor chapel, sitting before the simple table with its cross, candles and intricate lace tablecloth. Praying the lilting words and listening to the sung liturgy was rich and meaningful. I especially appreciated the added aspect of community that the Prayer Pot afforded. Each morning we’d select three slips out of the pot, which was filled with the names of those who had journeyed with Palm Grove Community as a volunteer or a guest. We’d pray for them, trusting that God knew their needs. Interestingly, some of the names kept being selected again and again. Julie said that when that happened, they would contact the person to see if they needed prayer for something specific. More often than not, the timing was amazing with something significant going on in their lives – as we experienced several times during our week.
The beauty of the Mediterranean surroundings fed my soul too. I came downstairs on the first morning, camera in hand, eager to capture the some of the interesting plants in the grounds. As I left, I heard Julie say to Mike, “Look, they’ve bloomed! We have three blooms!”
I didn’t know what they were speaking about, and went off wandering in the garden to take some photos. I especially enjoyed snapping close-ups of the date and olive trees as I marvelled at the interesting patterns in the cacti and other vegetation. But I was most taken with the gorgeous flowers on the tall cacti trees, and shot them from many different angles.
Later I showed Julie the photos. When we came to the cacti, she said, “You know those flowers only last a day!”
I was stunned. What an image of God’s extravagance – that he would create such a thing of beauty that remains only for a day, on a plant that might flower just once a year. As I pondered this bountiful yet fleeting gift, I thought how it reminds us to live in the present moment. Not to squander the majesty or wonder or delight of what surrounds us, but to stop and be fully present. And to give thanks to the One who created the beauty, who is our source and life.
Now when I think of retreats, El Palmeral comes to mind. I think of warming sunshine and the sparkling water of the pool. Swimming in the morning before the activities of the day. The neighbour’s cats coming over to be fed. The rustic outdoor chapel for worship and communion. The well-stocked library for intellectual stimulation. The dry air that warms the bones of a chilled dweller of the UK. The garden sporting its labyrinth and rendition of Golgotha. And not only the physical features, but the love and community that El Palmeral exudes in the warmth of the welcome and the feeling of acceptance it offers. The bonding through the sharing of good food and drink – the tasty Mediterranean dinners with the space for meaningful conversation. And above all, the setting which affords a deep communion with God.
The perfect place for a holi-treat.
I’m leading my “Adventures in Prayer” retreat again: 16-20 September 2013. Click here for more details, and for information about the retreats by such stellar speakers as Adrian and Bridget Plass and Jeff and Kay Lucas (currently taking place).
I’ve adapted this post from an article that appeared in Woman Alive, April 2013.
I hear that bookings are starting to come in for the retreat I’m leading at the fabulous El Palmeral in Spain in June. Could you join us?
