When I was in college I had the opportunity to participate in a men's retreat called the Walk to Emmaus (perhaps you have heard about it). The weekend is based around the convergence of sound biblical teaching and times of deliberate silence.
Each day we would listen to a teaching or lecture from a minister or lay individual, talk about that teaching in small groups, create a conclusion related to how we could adopt the lesson in our discipleship, and then retreat to silence and speak with God about it.
Overall the weekend was very powerful and helpful in my theological development and growth--so much so that I sponsored a number of friends to attend. I believed that they too would be touched the Holy Spirit, or to use the words of Emmaus "Did not our hearts burn as he taught us on the road..."
One of my friends that I sent on the retreat was named Alex.
Alex is a witty guy who brings a musical/theatrical gift to every situation that he enters. He is always the life of the party. I met him as an in-coming freshman and we were friends until I graduated 3 years later.
As the retreat drew towards its closing, I received word that the weekend was not going as planned for him. Sure, he was enjoying the time away from college, but the deep encounter that I had with the Holy Spirit was not 'happening' for Alex. He was still smiling and seemed relaxed but something was amiss.
The retreated ended Sunday night and Alex told me that he really enjoyed the time away, but that it took him a long time to 'get it' (whatever it was). Listening to him tell me about the program I mentally checked off every box that I remember when I walked to Emmaus. . . teaching. listening. silence. communion. He attended them all and enjoyed them all.
In what would become a hint of my future doctoral work, I asked Alex about his expectations of the weekend? What did you think was going to happen?
His answers were a jumbled mess of hope, aspiration, and just wanting it to happen. . . In his excitement, he brought too much baggage into the retreat and almost missed God's movement.
Recently I read about an Anglican priest who had the same experience with one of his young students. When addressing how the young person, like Alex, was trying or working too hard he said this:
"Your first duty as a priest is to save your own soul."
Like Alex we bing a lot into our days with us. We are so excited for what God can do in someone's life that we can almost miss the gentle, subtle nudge of the Holy Spirit. I wonder how often you have lived your faith as Alex did that weekend? Trying so hard to get it right that you forget to 'save your own soul?"
Blessings
Derek
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