A Quiet Place

7-22-18 (Proper 11/Ordinary 16 Year B, Semi-Continuous)

2 Samuel 7:1-14a; Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

A Quiet Place

When I was a camper, I had a counselor who led a Bible study one summer in which he introduced us to one of the most interesting pieces of music I’d ever heard.  It was a piece of experimental, avant-garde music by a composer named John Cage called 4’33.”  I’d like to just share a little 30 second snippet of this song with you so that you can get a little bit of the experience.

Blog Readers: You can listen to the entire song below!

The entire song is four minutes and 33 seconds of silence - well, sort of.  John Cage would argue that last statement till his last breath.  You see, what’s amazing about the song is that it can quite literally never be played or performed the same way twice.  For John Cage, the composition was a statement on how music can be found everywhere, in everything and anyone.  At summer camp, we heard the song by a rolling stream, the gentle summer breeze blowing through the hemlocks while birds sang and campers shuffled uncomfortably, wondering when the counselor would begin playing the music.  It wasn’t until he explained the song and we took time to think about what we had heard that we realized what had happened.

We just spent a paltry 30 seconds in silence together and I saw many folks undergoing a similar process to what I experienced as a camper: a few glances up to the AV booth wondering if there were technical difficulties again, a few folks looking confused, and the longer things went, the more uncomfortable it started to get.  We don’t know quite what to do with quiet anymore.  We don’t know how to handle moments that are not filled with stimulation of some kind or another.  And yet it’s these quiet moments that are so vitally important to our lives, not just physically, but also emotionally and especially spiritually.

We need moments of rest, of finding quiet, of being still.  “Be still and know that I am God” may be a verse that is so filled with meaning for us on so many different levels, but it’s also one of the ones we are probably the most guilty of not being able to obey.  And even when we do find opportunities to follow that spiritual guidance, we don’t always do it well.  Just look at David for a moment and you can see what I’m talking about.  Here he is, finally settling down - his life has been a whirlwind pretty much since the day that Samuel came around with that horn of oil and anointed him as the future king of the Israelite people.  He’s faced down giants, run for his life as a fugitive from King Saul, and fought in battle after battle after battle.  He’s had the Ark of the Covenant stolen, gone to recover it, and brought it back into his city with dancing and celebration.  He’s built a grand and glorious palace for himself and he is now, finally, able to enjoy the fruits of his labors, the victories he’s won, the peace that he has fought so hard to attain.  2 Samuel tells us that God has granted David “rest from his enemies.”  And it’s in the midst of this peace and quiet that David sits and it suddenly dawns on him: God has done all these things for David, but what has David done lately for God?  David consults with his trusty prophet, Nathan, and runs the idea past him. “See, I am living in a house of cedar, but the ark of God stays in a tent.”  Nathan thinks it’s a great idea - David has had the blessings of God in all of his other undertakings, so why not this one, too?  He gives David the green light without a second thought.  But it’s when Nathan is getting ready to go to sleep, in another moment of quiet, that God speaks up and tells Nathan something entirely different.  God says “All this time, I’ve lived in a tent and I’ve never asked anyone to build me a house, even though I’ve had countless opportunities to do so.”  God reminds David that it was God who took David from being a shepherd to being responsible for the entirety of God’s people.  God re-directs David and tells him that, instead of looking for ways to take care of God, David should be looking out that he’s taking care of God’s people.  And so God promises to build David a household - not just a house, but a royal dynasty, a legacy.

That quiet place, that time of silence and rest, is a good thing - but it’s also something we have to use well and use wisely.  We need that time, not just for rest, but because in that silence, we have the ability to listen, to process, and to discern.  So many times, we block out those moments in our days and our routines where we can take time to be quiet, and it’s something that we desperately need to do - whether it’s reading a devotional, taking time in prayer, or engaging in other spiritual practices.  But how often do we find ourselves, even as we’re in that quiet time, looking for ways to make sure that we’ve filled that space?  How often do we engage in prayer and fill that space entirely with us speaking to God?  How often do we put ourselves in the place of David and think that this quiet time is a time for us to fulfill our responsibilities to God so that we can get on with whatever else it is we need to be doing?  How much of that quiet time do we ever take to simply be still, to listen for what God is saying to us, and to just be completely quiet?  And out of that, then, how often might we find ourselves thinking we know what God is telling us, when it turns out that all that we’re really hearing is the continued sound of our own voices?

It’s a challenge, for sure - but even if that quiet time is filled with our own voices more often than not, the Gospel gives us more hope.  As the disciples come up to Jesus, they are absolutely filled and brimming with excitement over the things that they have encountered, the works they have done, the wonders they have performed in Jesus’ name after he sent them out in pairs to engage in their missionary work.  And Jesus, in his wisdom, knows what they need next - he tells them to go by themselves to a deserted place and to rest for a while.  They’ve just poured themselves out for the people, and now it’s time to recharge, to be refreshed and to recover.  It’s a great idea, though unfortunately it doesn’t get to come quite to fruition as Jesus had designed.  They get to this deserted place and find that the crowds saw them coming from miles away and beat them there on foot.  Somehow, instead of finding a place of rest and solitude for a few blessed minutes, the disciples and Jesus are thrown right back into the fray.  Jesus would have been fully in his rights to ask the disciples to help him send the people away, to insist that the disciples get that moment of rest… and yet he has compassion on the people, because he sees that “they are like sheep without a shepherd.”

The best laid plans, right?  The lectionary skips over the next section of Mark’s gospel because we’ll be exploring John’s account of it in the next several weeks, but as a preview of some coming attractions, here’s where I found hope for myself and where we can each find encouragement together: the plan for rest, for quiet and rejuvenation didn’t pan out as expected, but God’s grace still comes through and renewal nevertheless happens.  As we’ll hear more next week, the disciples find restoration together as they engage in service to the multitude who are gathered.  They find food and nourishment together in the community that they form, and those things are deeply invigorating.  What’s interesting is that, even after this invigoration, as Jesus goes to take his own opportunity for solitude and silence, things still go awry - Jesus actually instructs the disciples to go to Bethsaida, and yet thanks to a storm, even with Jesus joining them and calming the waves, the group ends up landing at Gennesaret.  And once again, as they reach Gennesaret, the crowds are there and people are in need of healing.

It’s a strange place to find hope, and yet I believe there is hope in there all the same.  We’re told to find those quiet places, to look for the opportunities to be still… and yet there are nevertheless times where those quiet places simply won’t be found - there are those times when we need to lay aside our own needs for quiet and solitude in order to care for others, to keep giving, to keep doing the things that God is clearly calling us to do.  The beauty of it is that this is okay, too.  God can speak to us out of the chaos just as strongly as God speaks to us from the still, small voice.  God can give us refreshment even in the middle of the most hectic situations just as readily as we can find it in the quiet places.  It doesn’t mean that we don’t need those quiet places any more or any less… but it means that, again - God’s grace, God’s love still breaks through and finds us where we are.  The winds may blow us off course, we may find ourselves miles from where we ever thought we’d be… but sometimes that’s God taking us where we need to be instead of where we want to be - and when we’re where we need to be, we often find ourselves invigorated more than we’d have been otherwise.  May we continue to keep ourselves open to where God is calling us.  May we find God in those quiet places and have ears to hear what God is saying to us.  May we recognize God at work in the places that aren’t so quiet, as well.  And may we always trust that God’s grace will break through and bring us where we need to be.  To God be the Glory.  Amen.