{"id":4184,"date":"2017-06-27T09:56:07","date_gmt":"2017-06-27T14:56:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thedisciplemaker.org\/?p=4184"},"modified":"2017-06-27T09:56:07","modified_gmt":"2017-06-27T14:56:07","slug":"the-day-my-quiet-time-died","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.navpress.com\/sites\/thedisciplemaker\/2017\/06\/the-day-my-quiet-time-died\/","title":{"rendered":"The Day My Quiet Time Died"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/div>

I used to have dazzling quiet times. I sat on my bed, holding my four-part prayer notebook as if it were a cherished artifact. Pulling back the tab marked \u201cadoration,\u201d I peered at a list of forty words that described God and picked three to praise God for. Moving on to the tab marked \u201cconfession,\u201d I mulled over another forty-word list of faults, especially those I\u2019d underlined in red: laziness and grouchiness. Racing on to \u201cthanksgiving,\u201d I skimmed a list of twenty items I felt thankful for, including friends, relatives, books, and\u2014to be especially spiritual\u2014God Himself.
\nAt the bottom of the page, a stretching zinger challenged me: Thank God for one thing you\u2019ve never thanked Him for before.
\nFinally, I had enough momentum to slide into home plate\u2014a list of requests I had kept for ten years: former students, weight control, missionary friends. It took quite a while to do this portion of the notebook, but when I finished, I felt as if I\u2019d covered the map with God.
\nIn spite of my spiritual whiz-kid persona, I was crumbling and raging inside. I felt suffocated by the routine life of a stay-at-home mom, the impossibility of church work, and the dry ache of a vanishing marriage. I remember the day my quiet time died<\/strong>. After gathering all my devotional props, I settled into a terrible emptiness. I needed God as I had never needed Him before, but my regimented prayers were puny containers for my anguish. Hurling my prayer notebook across the room, I asked myself, How would I survive life without someone to love me? How could I connect with God so that no matter what happened to me, I would believe that God still loved me and valued me? What would replace these sterile lists so I could sink my teeth into a God who would satisfy my neediness?
\n\"Packaging\"<\/a>
\nAs my ego props fell away\u2014ministry positions, marriage security\u2014I replaced my sterling quiet time with reading Glamour magazine. I found refuge in food and snacked all day. Appalled that my secret food compulsion was taking over, I slithered into a room with other \u201closers\u201d like me\u2014a support group for compulsive eaters. When I said I was \u201cfine,\u201d they laughed and said, \u201cRight! So how are you really doing?\u201d My Christian facade, which I didn\u2019t know I had, cracked.<\/strong>
\nOver several years, these meetings schooled me in admitting the truth\u2014that I demanded perfection from myself and everyone around me. I saw that I had behaved as a Pharisee, \u201cthe one who wants to get the right formula and do it right and fix everything and feel very wonderful.\u201d
\nBut I found it difficult to forget about dazzling God and show Him my real self. Finally, as I meandered through the Psalms, I found comfort in their honest and gritty texture:<\/p>\n

I sink in the miry depths,
\nwhere there is no foothold.
\nI have come into the deep waters;
\nthe floods engulf me.
\nI am worn out calling for help;
\nmy throat is parched.
\nMy eyes fail,
\nlooking for my God. (Psalm 69:2-3)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Were I as honest as the psalmist, I\u2019d have to admit that I had been mad at God\u2014why hadn\u2019t He fixed everything and put my life in order as I\u2019d wanted it? Could I admit to God that I felt I was a disappointment to Him, and He was a disappointment to me? In a moment of terror I did, and the sky didn\u2019t fall.
\nI still felt broken, but somehow hopeful. It seemed as if God were wringing all that self-sufficiency out of me and asking me to seek Him in whatever way He led me. He wasn\u2019t going to fix my life quickly, but He was going to mold my character. At the time, I couldn\u2019t see it, but God was showing me that He did not want me to be a can-do go-getter<\/strong> but \u201cone who becomes broken bread and poured out wine in the hands of Jesus Christ.\u201d
\nI began a journey that now looks as though it will take my entire life: to relish being God\u2019s much-loved child instead of trying to be wonderful; to accept my inability to control people and circumstances and surrender them to God. But in this new path of \u201cbeing\u201d instead of \u201cdoing,\u201d how was I going to relate to God in a way that wasn\u2019t so busy, so ordered, so perfect? Wasn\u2019t there a simpler way of praying that wasn\u2019t so structured and allowed me to express the contradictions of the heart?
\nI recalled having read a small book that recorded the ideas of Brother Lawrence: The Practice of the Presence of God<\/a>. This sounded fun and interesting compared to my Olympic-style quiet time. It was so low-key I could never spiff it up into some ego-strutting routine.
\n\"Packaging\"
\nAs I experimented with unpretentious, plain-speaking conversation with God, the adventure began.
\nAt first, I was baffled about what to do. Then I\u2019d remind myself: this isn\u2019t a method but a relationship. As I read more of the devotional classics (books written about the devotional life that have stood the test of time), I came to understand that bullying and berating myself with \u201cshoulds\u201d and \u201coughts\u201d hindered my awareness of God rather than helped it. I had to be patient. Desire for God would not flow out of me effortlessly, sincerely, and spontaneously by next Tuesday. Day by day, though, I would develop a \u201cfamiliar friendship with Jesus,\u201d in which I could trust Him with my secret flaws, deepest fears, and hidden dreams.
\nThis kinder, gentler approach had an ordinariness about it exemplified by Brother Lawrence\u2019s non-hero status. An overweight bumbler and \u201ca big clumsy guy who broke everything,\u201d Brother Lawrence worshiped more in the kitchen than in the cathedral. He wrote:
\n“For me, work time is no different than prayer time. Even in the noise and clatter of the kitchen, with different people calling for different things all at once, I still know God\u2019s presence with just as much real peace as if I were on my knees at communion.”
\n 
\nI could imagine the sauce simmering and Brother Lawrence tripping over the monastery cat, yet still enjoying the companionship of God. This was the path to God I longed to travel.
\nI had complicated the spiritual life with my notebook and checklists<\/strong> and invented my own version of \u201cspiritual correctness.\u201d In truth, I needed only one thing\u2014God. I didn\u2019t need a great quiet time, I needed a God-centered lifetime. I saw that my responsibility as a Christian was to seek God\u2019s company, not to seek spiritual maturity.
\n

\"\"<\/a>
Read the first chapter of Jan’s newest book now.<\/figcaption><\/figure>
\nFor several years now, I\u2019ve stood before God making no promises to achieve, only that I would attempt and enjoy this gentle pattern. I keep asking God this question and making this choice:
\n 
\nCan I bring God back in my mind-flow every few seconds so that God shall always be in my mind as an after image, shall always be one of the elements in every concept and precept? I choose to make the rest of my life an experiment in answering this question.<\/p>\n

Reflect<\/h2>\n

How do you feel about having a \u201cquiet time\u201d? How have your quiet times worked out?
\nIn what ways do you work at your relationship with God? If \u201cwork\u201d doesn\u2019t describe your efforts, what word does? Why?<\/p>\n

\n

Adapted from Enjoying the Presence of God<\/em><\/a> by Jan Johnson. Discover more books from Jan<\/a>, including her newest release- When the Soul Listens<\/em>.
\nRead more from Brother Lawrence in Practicing God\u2019s Presence<\/em><\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I used to have dazzling quiet times. I sat on my bed, holding my four-part prayer notebook as if it were a cherished artifact. Pulling back the tab marked \u201cadoration,\u201d I peered at a list of forty words that described … <\/p>\n

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