Contemplative time doesn’t require ‘getaway’ time

Dec 11, 2015

By Mike Nelson
The contemplative life, as many know it (or at least envision it), suggests getting away from it all, being in nature, to contemplate and discern the deeper, more profound aspects of life.

I, on the other hand, have spent a good share of my life driving the freeways of Los Angeles or riding the rails of its equally unwieldy rail system -- which means I, too, have had plenty of time to contemplate and discern the deeper, more profound aspects of life.

Initially, my contemplations in such moments tend to focus on the inadequacy of said transportation system or the shortcomings of those who utilize it.

There are also times when I take those moments to "discern" the (mis)fortunes of our local baseball team (the one for whom the nickname "Bums" is never out of style) and why hitting with runners in scoring position seems to have been mastered by other teams but not ours.

But nearly every time I start on these trains of thought, something remarkable happens -- remarkable, and humbling, and usually within a few minutes, if not seconds.

My mental tirade against the inadequacies and incompetencies of others gives way to an inventory of my own shortcomings, prompted by an inner voice that says something like, "Wait a minute, smart guy. How perfect are you? How's YOUR driving? How's YOUR hitting, Mister .167 for his career in Little League?"

And it occurs to me: "God is talking to you, goof. Be quiet and listen."

The psalmist expresses this somewhat more kindly, though just as firmly: "Be still and know that I am God!" (46:11).

Indeed, I have "been still" many a time on the freeways and railways of my hometown. And as nice as retreat days and weekends can be for getting in touch with God or contemplating those deep and profound aspects of life, I am quite able to connect with God precisely in those moments when life can be at its most chaotic, which, of course, is precisely when a conversation with God is most necessary.

Not that I don't welcome opportunities to get away on retreats, whether for a few hours or a few days, in order to contemplate upon and, hopefully, strengthen and deepen my spiritual life. Odd thing, though, about those retreats: They don't have the same effect on me as those "in the moment" occasions I've mentioned above.

I recall attending an overnight retreat many years ago at a suburban location in the Santa Monica Mountains. There was Taizé music, which I liked, and community prayer time, which was fine. But in between were long stretches of "contemplative" time, during which we were to find a place, by ourselves, to go and "get closer to God."

Nice idea, except that in my case, it didn't work. I tried prayer. I tried humming sacred music. I tried sleep. I kept listening for something "deep and profound." Nothing.

I didn't hear God speaking, as Paul did on the road to Damascus, or Moses did on Mount Sinai, or Samuel did before he began pestering Eli. I began to think this retreat business was not for me.

Maybe, maybe not. Years later, though, it struck me that what I experienced was exactly what was supposed to happen. That God was indeed talking to me, telling me, "This is where you need to be right now in your life. It's time to be quiet, be still, be grateful for your life and your faith. Is that so bad? So what if you're not seeing burning bushes? It's a nice day I've made -- enjoy it, and be glad."

I still haven't made many retreats in my life. But I'm always grateful for contemplative time that, for me, is "checkup" time, to contemplate on how much, and how well, I listen to God. And it happens whenever and wherever I make the time for it.