Dylan and I sat on the front porch earlier this week, as we always do, smoking cigarettes and watching the rain cascade through the trees. The subject of "Quiet Times" came up. Now, to be entirely honest, I hate the lingo itself. It smacks of Christianese. By Quiet Time (I even hate capitalizing it), I am referring to times where a person gets down on his knees before his God and prays and meditates upon Him. I haven't been very faithful to such quiet times, and I don't think that's a sin--I'm no legalist, and if someone doesn't have a quiet time every morning, that's no skin off their back. Lately, however, God has been convicting me of my need to take some time alone to just spend in prayer and contemplation, to meditate and ponder His word, to ask for His guidance and seek His counsel, to lay my supplications at His feet. It's a great honor, as Hebrews puts it, to go into the sanctuary of the Living God and to kneel before Him, without judgment or restraint, to have unbridled access to the throne room of Zion. Prayer is a place where Heaven and Earth meet, and in that sense it's a sacrament. And yet I tend to regulate my prayers to driving to work in the car or to a 10-minute hiatus before I pass out in my bed at night. I don't think God is angry with me, perhaps just... disappointed. Not disappointed in the sense that I have done something wrong and thus He is disappointed with me, but disappointed in the sense that He desires this time with me, for my benefit, and I am not utilizing it.
I remember when I was in High School I would pray and meditate for thirty minutes three times a day: before school, after school, and before bed. Those were the moments of the greatest peace and joy in my life thus far. God spoke to me, comforted me, cherished me. He held me and convicted me and scolded me and prompted me to go in the directions He desired for me. At the time I thought to myself, "How could I have ever lived without this?" But of course I got caught up in the activities and fun of college and waned in my personal time with God. And then I went through a spiritual holocaust, and those times became non-existent. I've been rebuilding my life for quite some time now, spiritually and emotionally and physically and mentally, and yet this is something I haven't quite latched onto.
A lot of people say "quiet times" are not biblical. One person said, "Paul says to pray unceasingly throughout the day. This doesn't mean that we're supposed to corner ourselves off from the world and just spend time with God. That's an isolationist tactic. We should pray as we're involved with the world, getting our hands and feet dirty for the kingdom." I agree with the last statement, but quiet times being an isolationist tactic? Come on! Paul himself, a good Pharisee, would've been brought up spending four to eight hours a day in private prayer! Are we to believe that he tossed this out the window when he became a follower of Christ, that he perceived it as some sort of legalism or isolationist tactic and thus unfit for the new reality of things? Hell no! He was a man of prayer, as we see in his writings, praying constantly in all sorts of ways. Jesus himself assumed that his followers would take time for themselves to get alone with God and to pray. It's not an isolationist tactic. It's something that is very beneficial and I would even bet that Paul would say it's essential--not necessary, in the sense that without it, you're not part of the kingdom; but essential, in the sense that if you are going to be a good agent of the kingdom, you must be in prayer constantly--and that includes 'quiet times.'
Like I said, I'm not legalistic about it. But I won't deny there are benefits, and as an agent of the kingdom, it is my responsibility to take time and pray and meditate on God's word.
And the last part of the post title? Let's just say that one of my life's most humbling experiences took place yesterday morning. While the nausea and fever and dizziness and shaking is gone, my limbs still hurt, and the burns (Mom says they're probably 2nd-degree, but I wouldn't know) are fading and beginning to blister. The sun poisoning reached its climax yesterday morning, when I was sitting bare-butt on the toilet with massive diarrhea and hunched over a trashcan in front of my puking with each abdominal squeeze. Pretty picture? No. But it was quite humbling.
I remember when I was in High School I would pray and meditate for thirty minutes three times a day: before school, after school, and before bed. Those were the moments of the greatest peace and joy in my life thus far. God spoke to me, comforted me, cherished me. He held me and convicted me and scolded me and prompted me to go in the directions He desired for me. At the time I thought to myself, "How could I have ever lived without this?" But of course I got caught up in the activities and fun of college and waned in my personal time with God. And then I went through a spiritual holocaust, and those times became non-existent. I've been rebuilding my life for quite some time now, spiritually and emotionally and physically and mentally, and yet this is something I haven't quite latched onto.
A lot of people say "quiet times" are not biblical. One person said, "Paul says to pray unceasingly throughout the day. This doesn't mean that we're supposed to corner ourselves off from the world and just spend time with God. That's an isolationist tactic. We should pray as we're involved with the world, getting our hands and feet dirty for the kingdom." I agree with the last statement, but quiet times being an isolationist tactic? Come on! Paul himself, a good Pharisee, would've been brought up spending four to eight hours a day in private prayer! Are we to believe that he tossed this out the window when he became a follower of Christ, that he perceived it as some sort of legalism or isolationist tactic and thus unfit for the new reality of things? Hell no! He was a man of prayer, as we see in his writings, praying constantly in all sorts of ways. Jesus himself assumed that his followers would take time for themselves to get alone with God and to pray. It's not an isolationist tactic. It's something that is very beneficial and I would even bet that Paul would say it's essential--not necessary, in the sense that without it, you're not part of the kingdom; but essential, in the sense that if you are going to be a good agent of the kingdom, you must be in prayer constantly--and that includes 'quiet times.'
Like I said, I'm not legalistic about it. But I won't deny there are benefits, and as an agent of the kingdom, it is my responsibility to take time and pray and meditate on God's word.
And the last part of the post title? Let's just say that one of my life's most humbling experiences took place yesterday morning. While the nausea and fever and dizziness and shaking is gone, my limbs still hurt, and the burns (Mom says they're probably 2nd-degree, but I wouldn't know) are fading and beginning to blister. The sun poisoning reached its climax yesterday morning, when I was sitting bare-butt on the toilet with massive diarrhea and hunched over a trashcan in front of my puking with each abdominal squeeze. Pretty picture? No. But it was quite humbling.
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