Next month, I will be leading a retreat for the women in our church and I had a funny moment when I pitched the idea to our Parish Council (like a church board) last fall. I had a flashback to a conversation that I had had many years earlier: A kind, well-meaning friend had asked me about the role of retreats in my life, “Where did I go for prayer retreats, how often was this my habit, what did I find helpful…?” While I don’t remember exactly how I responded (although I sure hope it was gentle), I do remember thinking to myself, “Why would I want to retreat?! No, I want to advance! I want to pursue the breakthrough, not withdraw and be passive!” I had never been on a prayer retreat and had no desire to go.
Conferences and rallies were my thing, I saw the value of gathering to push into more intense and sustained intercession, activating prophetic prayer and decrees in a united setting so that there could be spiritual breakthrough in the heavenlies. This was the path to revival… wasn’t it?
ADVANCE OR RETREAT?
Well as you can guess, my perspective and life have changed markedly since that flashback memory. I’ve learnt that you can’t make revival happen through hype, even if it’s in the guise of fervent, prophetic, united intercession. God is God, He’s in charge and won’t be manipulated.
This is such good news. It means, among other things, that neither you, nor I, carry the primary responsibility for revival. We can certainly be participants, even used by God as catalysts, but it’s not all on our shoulders, and it doesn’t start with us.
If I can’t make it happen, I have to trust God’s sovereignty. I have to, or perhaps should say—get to—surrender to His timing. All the stirring songs we once sang about how we were going to be history-makers, or declaring that we are the Elijah generation, seem embarrassingly grandiose all these years later.
And here I am, as wild, ground-shaking events destabilise the nations releasing anxiety everywhere— I’m preparing to gather women to go on a retreat and simply seek to encounter Jesus. It actually seems to me that this is the posture that David strikes in Psalm 131, and it is entirely appropriate in the midst of all the turmoil and uncertainty around us.
O Lord, my heart is not lifted up;
my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things
too great and too marvelous for me.
2 But I have calmed and quieted my soul,
like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child is my soul within me.3 O Israel, hope in the Lord
from this time forth and forevermore.
RESTING IS NOT CHECKING OUT
I’m not suggesting that we withdraw from engaging in the public square, or that we check out and head for the hills in a moment where our society so desperately needs the Church and Her good news message of the gospel. What I am suggesting, is that we renew a posture of abiding in utter trust and resting in God’s embrace. At the beginning of this year, that we choose not to be anxious regardless of how alarming things around us appear to be. We quiet our souls, drinking in His love, protection, guidance, and promise of provision, fixing our eyes on the face of Jesus.
THE DISCIPLINE OF QUIETING YOUR SOUL
The actual discipline of quieting your soul, when noise and anxiety are clamouring, is not easy. It’s a discipline of focus, choosing to silence thoughts rather than giving them the freedom and power to run amok in your soul. It’s not denial, perhaps there’s time for those thoughts another day, but you are setting up boundaries. For now, for this moment, I rest and trust and set my eyes on the Lord, all else can be taken care of later. Like a weaned child.
It’s also a discipline of perspective. In submitting to God’s embrace which holds you still, you become renewed in seeing His majestic power over all time and space. You are free to worship, you are empowered to cast more and more of your burdens upon the Lord, perhaps things that you didn’t even realise were weighing you down.
Lastly, it’s a discipline that sets us up for endurance. It’s an acknowledgement that we are running a marathon, not a sprint, and that requires rhythms that can renew us. Were revival to break out without us understanding the need for times of retreat, it would be short-lived and likely end in unhealthy collapse rather than long-lasting kingdom advance. Jesus knew this and built times of retreat and renewal into his lifestyle, even though his active earthly ministry was only three and a half years and every moment of that was eternally impactful and precious. What He modeled is still important for us today.
And remember, our race is not even just confined to our lifetime, but we, as a part of the Eternal Church, run in a manner that invests in future generations so that the baton is passed seamlessly from one generation to the next. So learning to run in a manner that takes rhythmic pauses for retreat and renewal is a gift we can give the next generation.
I’m thrilled with the group of women who will join us on retreat in a few weeks. They range from age twelve, to women well into their seventies, a wonderful integration of generations learning together to calm and quiet their souls and rest in God’s love like a weaned child.
Perhaps God is extending an invitation to you as well. Perhaps He’s asking you to set aside some time for your own retreat and to practice these disciplines of focus, perspective, and rest. I believe it will be an incredibly helpful practice that will serve you well as we walk through turbulent times and seek to be strategically used of Him in this generation.