My Week with the Monks

 
I spent the past week at Mepkin Abbey. It is truly a paradise. I was overwhelmed by the natural beauty. Huge ancient, moss-covered oak trees everywhere. This former plantation is on the shores of the Cooper River—in places at the water’s edge and in places perched high above—100 feet above— the water. Always a breeze by the river. At times the wind blew so hard the draping moss appeared like gray beards on the old oaks blowing in the wind.

I did not sign up for this Monday afternoon to Friday morning retreat because I needed to retreat from the world – and certainly not to retreat from my life. For the most part I live a calm, relaxed pace.¹ Or so I thought. No, I signed up for this more as a test: to experience an extended time of silence and solitude. And … to see if I could do it.

You see, I have an affinity for my aversions. In a weird sort of way, I like hard things. I guess it goes back to all those coaches yelling at us, driving us to excel, driving us to “no pain – no gain,” at almost any cost.

I already practice silence and solitude at times – sitting still for an hour or two, with no books or electronics, only my thoughts. I wanted to see if I could do it for longer.

I arrived Monday around 3:00 pm, and after our short orientation, I found myself back in my room at 5:30 thinking, “Yikes.” I could not help but project out over the next few days, thinking, “Okay, it’s Monday evening. What am I going to do tomorrow, and tomorrow night, and Wednesday, and Wednesday night, and Thursday, and Thursday night?” I was in bed by 7:00 pm each night, because there was nothing else to do.

Eugene Peterson, the translator of The Message Bible, and who planted the original seed in my mind about doing this, commented about his frequent abbey stays: “After my first orientation, the head monk said this: ‘Your individual monk will take you to your cell. When he leaves and you are unpacking, and you realize you left something you cannot live without, go find your monk, and he will show you … how to live without it.’”

Eugene also said of his experience, “Your cell will teach you everything.”

And it did. My room was not a cell, but more like a really nice dorm room – one that I would have loved to have had in college. But the experience of no talking, complete silence, not doing anything, and no electronics, taught me a lot about myself.

Monday and Tuesday I strode around the grounds with purpose. I was taking in the beauty, but I was also seeking to get a few miles of fast-paced exercise each day. I determined to take advantage of this paradise by walking all over the plantation, at a 15-minute pace, at least twice a day. Six miles total – at a minimum.

I even marked off the distance of the dramatic, oak-lined, long entrance drive – 500 yards btw – so I could keep track of my distances. By Tuesday night I was defeated, and planning to leave Thursday night. Why not? My wife Dina was leaving Friday for a weekend in Dallas. I had not seen her, not talked to her all week.

It only made sense to check out early. I would have been there long enough. (And then there was that glass of wine I could have Thursday night.) I even contemplated telling a “white lie” to people, saying the retreat was from Monday to Friday, but leaving out my checking out Thursday part. What would be the harm?

But … the Holy Spirit said no, and I heard him clearly.

Wednesday was the turning point, as I had anticipated it would be before coming. I thought it would be the turning point for good or for bad. I would either have found my groove, or I would have been defeated.

I found my groove. I woke up that morning and decided to walk about like the monks do: slowly, with their hands clasped behind their backs. A little bent over. And very slow. So slow, that the first day, as we followed the Abbot around, I had to take little, tiny steps to stay behind him.

I also determined not to walk six miles a day. I wandered. I strolled. I … slowed way, way down. And it changed everything. I began to feel at ease. I embraced the stillness, the lack of anything to do. Yes, I had to remind myself several more times to stay in the moment, because my can-do, will-do Self kept wanting to speed up.

Here is what I discovered. When I slowed down, I actually got there sooner. That long, 500-yard entrance driveway, which had previously taken forever to walk, was now a short stroll. You know the saying, “Don’t miss the forest for the trees,” which means not to get so bogged down in the details that we miss the big picture. I found just the opposite to be true:

I was missing the trees because I was bogged down by the forest. The forest of getting there. The forest of my to-do list. The forest of hurry. The forest of a full schedule. The forest of accomplishing something. Previously I had seen those incredible trees, but only with the eyes in my head. Now I was seeing them with the eyes of my heart. Monday and Tuesday I had sight, but no insight.

May you learn to slow down, stay in the moment, and see the trees of God’s grace, his love and his goodness, in the details all around you. May you see with insight that our culture’s forest will sweep you down that broad road that leads to destruction, which many find, and cause you to miss the trees of that small, narrow gate, that leads to the life that is truly life, and only a few find it.²

1. Oswald Chambers My Utmost for this Highest August 5
2. Matthew 7:13-14 1 Timothy 6:19