During mealtimes at Mucknell Abbey, where I have recently been on retreat, in line with the Rule of St Benedict, one of the community members reads from a book. In past visits to this Benedictine Monastic Community, readings have varied from the historical to the political and, amidst the silence of eating, laughter is not unknown. This time it was the spiritual and we heard excerpts from In the Stillness, Waiting by a Franciscan brother, Nicholas Worsamm SSF published just a few weeks ago (and a lovely surprise to see it next to my own books in the monastery shop…).
The title, to my mind at least, is drawn from one of my personal ‘go to’ verses from the Psalms: ‘On God alone, my soul in stillness waits’ (Psalm 62:1).
I had gone to Mucknell for a time of stillness. I had gone, as always on retreat, with a sense of waiting. Of waiting to encounter God in a deeper way. Booked several months ago, as it transpired I found myself there on the back of a somewhat exacting week or two. A period in which God had been very present but stillness had not occupied my mind, let alone my soul.
One might have thought therefore that going away – to ‘retreat’ – would be timely. But albeit finding myself surrounded by external stillness, I also found myself not knowing what I was waiting for, especially in my soul, which was distinctly unquiet.
I had come wanting to write more for my new book, Loving Yourself, but found I couldn’t (which given I was not exactly demonstrating the subject was probably an appropriate outcome). I’d taken a Christian book to read but wasn’t getting much from it. I even convinced myself that listening to podcasts and doing puzzles wasn’t quite the ‘holy’ thing to do either (but I did it all the same).
I wanted to make good use of this special time only to spend much of it struggling to know how to do just that.
Being on retreat, as you may know for yourself, is not the heavenly, glorious experience one might hope for. It is, as many testify, often an uncomfortable time. A time when the usual structures and routines of what may have come to define the ‘normality’ of our life are absent. A time when one finds oneself living with aspects of our being we have not (deliberately or otherwise) encountered or attended to in recent times.
As I look back over the notes I made from previous retreats both at Mucknell and elsewhere, I see a similar pattern of struggle and, eventually, stillness.
Comforting words came through the monastic offices: ‘I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you,’ (Isaiah 43:1-2)
In the event, it was in reminding me of a previous retreat that God showed me what I was to do: and it was in doing nothing that allowed stillness to emerge from the room in which it was waiting.
I am delighted to have been asked to join the team of contributors to Monastic Retreats so do take a look at the wealth of resources they provide.
For my new book, I would love to receive your thoughts on loving yourself: take a look at the previous post and then please do get in touch. Details of my published books can be found at richardfrostauthor.com
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