Seven Words

Seven words. Just seven. A bit different from the highly-charged political climate today in which politicians can't seem to control their wordiness.  Different from our churches in which a multiplicity of words seems to be the "coin of the realm".  Seven words: "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me."  They called it simply "the Jesus prayer".  And, for centuries, it has served as the key element in empowering believers to "practice the presence of God."  It was designed not as some religious mantra, not as the kind of vain repetition that Jesus had such strong words against.  Its design was to be a simple, quiet prayer (always avoiding calling attention to itself) to occupy the heart (not just the lips) of the believer as a constant reminder throughout the day that the Lord is ALWAYS present with us.  He never leaves, never divorces, never deserts, never abandons.  He is present.  And we need to remember that.  When we're loading the dishwasher after dinner, when we're picking up the kids from school, when we're facing that incredible deadline at work, when we're sitting at the computer pondering whether or not to surf the porn sites, when the young secretary asks us if we'd like to "do lunch".  At those times when He either seems far away or something within us wishes for a moment that He were, we need to be reminded that he is close enough to hear the beating of our heart, catch our tears in His jar, and count the hairs on our head.  That close.

As that reminder, the ancients employed the Jesus prayer, always in the heart, ever-so-softly spoken on the lips, never calling attention to itself, but always focusing attention to the One Who is here.  Utterred under one's breath hundreds of times during a typical day, practicing the presence. "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me."  Seven words.  We owe a great debt to those seven words whether we realize it or not.  In the history of spirituality, they helped get us to where we are.  Where exactly IS that with you?  Maybe we would do well to renew the ancient practice.  Maybe we, too, need reminding throughout the day that He is HERE.  "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me."

Silence

Syrian monk, Isaac of Ninevah says: "If you love truth, be a lover of silence. Silence will unite you with God Himself. More than all things love silence: it brings you a fruit that tongue cannot describe.  In the beginning we have to force ourselves to be silent. But then there is born something that draws us to silence. May God give you an experience of this something that is born of silence."  Amen.  Amen.  Silence is God's primary language.  We'd do well to sit as students in His classroom and allow ourselves to be instructed. Come, Lord.

Treasure

The day after Columbus Day, 1992, my dad went home to be with Jesus. Two days prior to Independence Day, 1996, Joan's dad joined him there. Two days after Easter, 2005 my mom celebrated with them around the throne. And the day after Valentine's Day this year, Joan's mom completed the circle. Interesting, isn't it- grief and celebrations- they often surround each other, crowd into each other, follow on the heels of each other. Most of these deaths were immediately preceded or followed closely by a family wedding or the birth of a grandchild or a birthday party for someone in the family- usually a grandchild. Treasured moments. Not easily forgotten. Not meant to be.

Jesus said, "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." Joan and I have noticed that ever since October 13, 1992, our hearts are more and more turned toward heaven. I'd preached about it for years- but never from my heart. Sadly, we preachers can do that, you know. But for the past nineteen years, our hearts, our dreams, our passions are lodged in the heavenlies.  As our daughter Laurie said regarding her firstborn son, "I just can't take my eyes off him, dad." We can't take our eyes off HIM. Him. The One around whose throne our parents now celebrate. And so it is: our treasures (those we love and hold dear) are in heaven; consequently, so are our hearts. Jesus spoke truth. Should that surprise us? Even so, come Lord Jesus!

Under Construction

Billy Graham in his new book Nearing Home recalls a time his late wife Ruth, while driving in the hills near their home, saw a sign which read END OF CONSTRUCTION- THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE. She wrote it down the minute she arrived home and informed her family that she wanted these words to be engraved on her tombstone. Appropriate, don't you think? We're all under construction. All the time. Right down to the very last breath we take. He's not finished with us yet. And we owe those in our world a huge "Thank you!" for putting up with the mess we so often are. Then comes that last breath- just like the one experienced by a dear friend today. End of Construction. Project completed. Journey over. Destination reached. Home. Even so, come Lord Jesus!

Be still!

Having given this blog thing a go a few years ago, it is with some degree of hesitancy that I re-enter the blogging world. The irony is that what I'm feeling a need to say is that we all need to work at saying less. I break my silence to plead for more silence in our lives. I speak up to say that we all- including me, perhaps especially me- need to shut up. In our culture of wordiness and noise, I am coming more and more to believe that the most profound Scripture may be the simple sentence "Be still and know that I am God."

So, In the Quiet will offer infrequent, brief, simple observations concerning the value of silence, solitude, simplicity as healthy pathways toward meaningful spirituality. My prayer is that encountering Him will be the result, for no other result matters after all is said (in our world of words) and done (in our zealous hyperactivity). So, each time you pay a visit to this site, if, in fact, you ever return, I urge you...Be still!