In continuing the “spiritual experiences” theme from yesterday, I thought I would re-post an experience I had over 2 years ago. It can only be described as an existential encounter with God, an encounter that shook me then and re-shook me when I read through my post. I am a firm believer in personal, spiritual encounters with God and a continued revelation from the Holy Spirit through such spiritual encounters. I hope you have had your own “existential encounters,” though having them makes you no more spiritual or closer to God like some would suggest. If you have, why don’t share them with us in the comment section!

I am going through a book on ancient and early church spiritual practices with a guy I disciple on Capitol Hill. This week we are on the “Silence and Solitude” chapter and for our homework I made the wonderful suggestion of spending 2 separate 1-hour sessions in complete silence and aloneness. I thought it would be perfect to illustrate the need for this in each of our lives, until Friday rolled around and I had only 4 days to fit these two times into my schedule!

When I returned from a tightly scheduled day (literally I had six appointments back to back from 8am to 3pm!) I thought it would be a perfect time to get one of the two session out of the way. So I ventured downstairs to our windowless bathroom to sit for one hour, no more no less (in fact I actually set a timer so I could be sure not to miss the one hour mark!). I’ll be honest I really did not expect much, but what transpired could only be labeled as an encounter with my Abba.

You will find the full description of my God-moment below. I must warn you, it sounds down right nutty and mystical, but the spiritual experience really did happened, nonetheless! Hopefully my experience will encourage you in your own walk and convince you of the need to have regular (daily?!?) sessions of silence and solitude built into your own day:

For the first fifteen minutes nothing happened. I spent the time praying that God would use this time and trying to calm my mind and heart. I tried to reflect on Scripture, on the love and goodness of the Lord, and practiced breathing exercises to quite my body to direct all of my affections God-ward.

I began to reflect on the quietness of the moment and was convicted with how I usually spend my private moments when alone. God impressed upon my being to guard and protect the quietness of my private moments, as Jesus did. But then something happened. There was a shift in the moment. In reflecting upon my private moments, my mind wandered to the passage in Matthew that talked about Jesus’ own private moments. I thought about how Jesus would get up in the earliness of the day to pray and spend time with His Father. Then something really weird happened: I was literally brought into and immersed within the narrative of the quiet, private moment of Jesus and his Abba.

My journey to this spot in the hills began in a hut with Jesus and the disciples. I imagined several of Jesus friends and companions still asleep. Scattered about on cots and the floor were James, John, Andrew, Peter, and others. I could hear their snores and the pops of the still burning fire. The house smelt of burning wood and the ripeness of sleep. It was early, very early, too early for anyone to even consider waking up to care about Jesus and I leaving into the sleeping world at 4 am.

We tiptoed out into the deadness of the morning and headed up the gravely road to the hillside. Leaving the town behind, we made our way through the gently rolling grass and settled into a place that was out of sight from the rest of the world. I sat by and watched Jesus fervently pray and worship God with an intimacy for which I longed. Then he invited me over. He turned around, faced me, and took both my hands in his. The verse in Psalms about searching, knowing, and exposing my heart washed over me and I was scared at what I would find. Without skipping a beat, as if he anticipated the uneasiness of the prospect of cardiac exposure, Jesus asked me if I trusted him with my heart, if I knew he would be loving and gentle with it. I said yes, and then it really began.

A warmth came over me and he took my heart and began to turn it inside out, like how you would take a round piece of fruit and unravel it to bring the center pit to the surface. He kept unraveling until we got to the center where there were a bunch of small round, white objects. They were caked in mud and had markings on them, like they’d been chewed upon and spit out. I asked what they were and was told they were pearls. I asked why they were swimming in mud and all chewed up. Then this verse was spoken to me: “do not throw your pearls to pigs. If you do, they may trample them under their feet, and then turn and tear you to pieces.”

I immediately understood what Jesus was saying: he was helping me understand how I often throw away the Pearl of Great Price (the light of the gospel within) away in those private moments, whether in what I do, how I think, what I don’t do, how I spend my time, etc…Obviously after that gentle, but deliberate confrontation I spent the rest of the time repenting and asking for cleansing. And you know what? He erased those nicks and marks from the teeth of the pigs and washed away the caked mud. It was a joyous time of confrontation, learning, cleansing and healing.

Before I knew it my hour was up. I just sat there, simply stunned at what just transpired, like Danna Scully from the X-Files might have been after tasting the incomprehensible extra-ordinary. I came into the shrine that was my basement bathroom a reluctant participant and left a changed child. I ceased activity for a mere hour and experienced more of God in the silence of that moment than I had throughout the whole day of ministry activity. For a moment, Martha became Mary, and it was so sweet.

be His, in silence and solitude…
-jeremy