It wasn’t the first time – and my guess is it won’t be the last.
I write this on retreat at Mucknell Abbey, a Benedictine Monastic Community in Worcestershire where I am an Oblate, a lay member. I try and come here about three times a year and was last in this lovely place back in March.
Back then, like now, I came for a time of spiritual retreat amidst the various impacts of life. Back then, I came just after my wife, Jane had handed in her notice of retirement – an occasion which takes place at the end of this month. Although I am conscious of being away from her at such a crucial time of change in her own life, it is timely that I come here again at this point. This particular period was actually booked last Autumn around the time that we took the decision to move on from active parish ministry. So in many ways it all links together. All part of God looking after us.
In the days leading up to coming away on retreat, there is always an element of apprehension – as well as a degree of ‘expectation’ that in some form God’s presence will make itself known. The apprehension is about what do I do with the time ahead of me. Arriving one afternoon, staying two full days, three nights, before returning home after breakfast on the fourth day.
Retreat times are often a time to ‘do nothing’. Yet, while following my own ‘retirement’ a few years ago, life is less busy than it was – a fact for which I am often grateful – the prospect of days of nothingness is somewhat uncomfortable. So, it’s not the first time and won’t be the last.
However, back in March, that apprehension was spoken in to by God. I had two images. One of the Prodigal Son returning to the welcoming arms of his father and the other, the words of Jesus: ‘Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.’
Last weekend, as the apprehension for this visit hovered, Jane and I led a quiet morning. We had chosen a theme which it turned out was appropriate for us as well those who came: ‘Finding a way home’. The second of the two talks was… on the parable of the Prodigal Son.
And then, on the Sunday morning, the Gospel set for the day: ‘Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.’
So I came on retreat, knowing that God’s presence had already been made known. Apprehension diminished, there was, however, still the issue of ‘doing nothing’.
However, as I reflected on how those two images had arisen on two occasions, and knowing I would welcomed by the loving arms of the Abbey community, it became clear that I had not just come to receive rest but it was to be a time of laying down burdens.
As the first few hours passed and I settled in to my room and took part in the monastery routines, I knew what the heaviest burden was. During the first full day, in prayer and reflection (and rest), I laid it down before God and felt the weight being lifted – and new insights in to how to carry what it still represented.
As the second full day began, I realised there was more to lay down. I knew what that was too and did the same.
Not all ‘burdens’ are bad – many contain joy alongside the concerns, as with mine. In the living of life, there will never be nothing to carry. In the living of faith there is the promise about laying down things before God… again and again.
Constantly remembering that we do not have to carry them alone but that we have a God who will both ease the load and give us rest.
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