Sometimes I just sits...

Last week we had the opportunity to spend some time with my family camping in the mountains of Southern Colorado.  When I was a kid we spent at least a week every summer camping somewhere.  I have a lot of fun memories playing with my cousins in the rivers, fishing, and exploring the mountainous areas so different from the plains of West Texas.

This was the first camping trip that all six of us were able to go on in about 7 years.  We all had a really good time and were able to relax in the cool mountain air after all of the hubbub of our move and transition this summer.

One afternoon I had quite a bit of down time.  A couple of people took a nap, some were playing a game, while the rest decided to spend some time reading.  For whatever reason, none of those activities appealed to me at that moment.  I felt restless; I needed to do something but nothing sounded like a worthwhile pursuit.  I decided that perhaps I just needed to get away for a bit and visit with God.

Right above our tent was an outcropping of rock that overlooked the hamlet of Platoro.  I decided that would be the ideal place for me to have a short retreat.  As I sat on the ground surrounded by immense majesty, I began to pray.  For some reason I thought that God would take that time to communicate with me.  Perhaps he would give a profound truth, taking me deeper in my spiritual journey.  Maybe he would give me insight into leading Grace UMC.  Or maybe, just maybe, he would speak to me with words that would transform the way I pastor, teach, and disciple.

But as I sat there, waiting, waiting waiting, nothing happened.  I became restless.  My mind wouldn't focus and I had a hard time praying.  Why?  Why would it be harder to pray while sitting quietly in a beautiful landscape intentionally seeking God than it is in my office, in the car, or other places where distractions happen all of the time?  After all, didn't Jesus say "My sheep listen to my voice.  I know them and they follow me...?"

I thought, "Well God, I am listening.  Here I am.  Speak."  But nothing happened.  All I heard was the river rushing far below, the birds singing, the chipmunks chattering, and laughter from my kids and sister playing a game.  The longer I sat there, the more frustrated I became.  My mind raced with doubt and questions.  Why wasn't he speaking?  Was he upset with me?  Did I do something wrong?  Had he abandoned me?

As I sat with these questions whirling around me, an ant caught my eye.  The more I focused on the activity of the ant the less concerned I was with the questions.  I watched him move across the ground in search of something.  First he darted in one direction then suddenly, without prior notice, he darted in another direction.  Seemingly oblivious of me or anything else around him he continually searched.  As I watched him, I couldn't help but laugh out loud.  He was so disorganized, so disjointed in his pursuit of something.  I wanted to tell my little ant friend to slow down.  I wanted to tell him to settle down, think things through, make a plan, and then calmly move forward.

And that's when it hit me.  I was the ant.  God had watched all of the activity I had been through over the past several weeks and he had probably (and with good reason) chuckled at my darting around.  I remembered the story of Jesus calming the storm with his hand and the disciples' awe-filled response "He commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him!" Surely I am smarter and more obedient than winds and water.  So for the next hour I just sat on my rock and I was.  My mind no longer wandered.  I didn't receive any wondrous revelations.  There was no amazing transfiguration of my spiritual life.  I just sat there and I was Dustin.

I never heard God's voice or direction that afternoon.  I just sat in his presence.  No praying, no listening, no wild pursuit of something.  Honestly, it was nice.  Maybe I can learn that discipline better.  Just before I got up to rejoin the family, I remembered a sign on the wall at my good friend Ken Lane's house.  It states, "Sometimes I sits and thinks and sometimes I just sits."  Well Ken, I am learning to "just sits" too.

Until next time...
Dustin