Written by Jonathan Friesen, M.A.<\/p>\n
Photo by Joe Pohle<\/p>\n
I woke at exactly 4:06 am. I knew this as I snuck a peek at my cell phone. Mobile devices were not allowed on my silent retreat, but the glance felt like what a priest had earlier identified as a \u201cvenial\u201d or lesser sin. Fully awake, I opted for an early morning walk along the darkness of Lake DeMontreville, where the Jesuit retreat house is located.<\/p>\n
Now, I\u2019d been wordless for two days, heading into a third with some distance to go. Empty verbal space quickens a man\u2019s thoughts, and I tell you that though decaffeinated, I felt alert, almost hyper-aware. I pushed out of my residence and into morning. Were not those crickets especially loud? Something about extended silence and solitude heightens the senses.<\/p>\n
The water gentled against shore \u2026 beautiful. But those fool crickets unnerved me, millions of fingernails on old chalkboards. I suddenly felt like escaping, a FOMO, late-for-a-meeting, need-to-be-somewhere-else type of feeling, and I hurried past the still-sleeping yard lights spread across the hundred-acre property.<\/p>\n
Quickening feet double-timed past the chapel, the four sleeping quarters; they took a sharp right by marble Mary, and walked to the retreat\u2019s entrance gate, locked of course.<\/p>\n
Which is where I committed my second venial of the morning by climbing over the fence. There I exhaled deeply. It was no louder there, but at least I was free of \u201cA Quiet Place.\u201d I walked along a bend of DeMontreville Trail and squeezed through a second locked gate and onto a paved road that led up to the nearby Carmelite Monastery (A Quiet Place, part 2 \u2026 I wasn\u2019t thinking.) It\u2019s still early, I reckoned; should have this road to myself. Other than eleven deer and three wild turkeys, I did. I reached the high pasture and started a slow stroll through wet grass toward a break in the surrounding tree line to watch the sunrise.<\/p>\n
I go to these retreats yearly, and usually, I have serious business to do with God. My family is falling apart, I\u2019m falling apart, you know, juicy stuff. I always enter the \u201cbig hush\u201d thinking, \u201cGod, we gotta talk, you and me.\u201d<\/p>\n
But not this year. This year held no emergencies. On day 1, I arrived solid\u2014bored and feeling empty\u2014but solid. Honestly, if I\u2019d have headed home with a little clarity on the book I\u2019m writing, maybe a few nice Christian-like insights, I would\u2019ve called my retreat a success. Face it, I was just \u2026 there.<\/p>\n
You\u2019ve felt that too. You\u2019ve been \u201cjust there\u201d with God, I bet. Oh, you might\u2019ve been doing some \u201cGod\u201d thing like reading your Bible or singing a song\u2014maybe sitting in chapel or in God and the Gospel\u2014whatever. But you were just \u2026 there. As a triage nurse might say, \u201cAlert and oriented\u201d times 1, when you know who you are but not much else. Shoot, you might not even know that. And your heart sure doesn\u2019t feel very alive.<\/p>\n
But after a few \u201cjust there\u201d days, as I said, this morning I was activated \u2026 \u201cin the room,\u201d as they say. I knew the who, the where, and the when: Alert and oriented times 3. I just didn\u2019t know the reason, the purpose for any of it. Sometimes, we need to wait for that.<\/p>\n
I did know sunrise was coming. I couldn\u2019t see it yet. It wasn\u2019t so much \u201clight,\u201d as it was \u201cless dark.\u201d You know that time? The weather was like the lake \u2026 beautiful. The cool breeze, peaceful. But not me. I was agitated, and here there were no crickets to blame. I started pacing. And speaking during a silent retreat \u2026 Venial sin #3, committed within twenty minutes.<\/p>\n
\u201cGod, where have you been? I haven\u2019t said a word for going on three days, but neither have you. Where were you?\u201d I kept whispering that last question, a man stuck on repeat. \u201cWhere were you?\u201d Each time, it gained momentum, hurt a little more, and I had no idea why. I only knew that the silence of God suddenly felt less acceptable and more like betrayal. Like abandonment. \u201cWhere were you?\u201d I was crying now. Crying and yelling my question and remembering a conversation\u2026<\/p>\n
Did I mention that day before, I had gone to a priest for a little spiritual direction? I had. During our meeting, he told me a true story. It was the only thing I took away from the time, and it went like this:<\/p>\n
I was ministering the sacrament of reconciliation (confession) and this girl, maybe 13 years old, stopped by. Was she alone? I didn\u2019t know. I didn\u2019t see anyone with her. She stood outside the confessional, hesitant, angry even. So, I opened with an easy one.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow are you doing?\u201d<\/p>\n
Nothing.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow\u2019s your family?\u201d<\/p>\n
Nothing.<\/p>\n
She just stood outside that door, face fixed, staring at the empty chair. I was thinking, geez, I thought I was good at this.<\/p>\n
Then she said it.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy dad died six weeks ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
What do you say to that?<\/p>\n
And she cried, and I cried, and I guess every so often the Spirit gives a man words.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you ready to forgive God for not stepping in?\u201d<\/p>\n
Slowly, very slowly, she nodded, whispered, \u201cYes.\u201d Then she stepped in, and we cried some more.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t recall the rest, but right then, in the pasture, I thought on his story and our question, both the girl\u2019s and mine: \u201cWhere were you?\u201d<\/p>\n
My dad did not die when I was 13; I did. Hope did. My heart did. Tourette Syndrome overwhelmed my mind and held captive my body; seizures stole clear thought, threw me unconscious on the ground. Panic attacks sent me running from school. Chronic pneumonia robbed me of breath. At some point, I looked at whatever I had become and said, \u201cI am one pathetic, sickly kid.\u201d Right there, my despairing heart agreed and broke, and a tiny heart-fragment locked itself up, young and alone. God-betrayed, God-abandoned.<\/p>\n
Agreements are powerful things. Make them with the truth, you have a chance at becoming fully alive. Alert and oriented times 4, knowing your identity, location, your unique place in the Story, and your purpose. Ah, but make agreements with a lie, and your heart shatters, I shattered. A fifty-five-year-old man stumbling forward with a splintered heart, many parts mature, but guarding a tiny shard in the middle: the young, betrayed, and abandoned part, stuck at 13.<\/p>\n
My folks named me Jonathan. I named that broken part: Pathetic and Sickly, though we\u2019d not been introduced before. That morning, Pathetic and Sickly was hesitant, angry even (You know how 13-year-olds act when woken up.) Angry at God. \u201cWhere were you?\u201d This part of me did not seem to care about keeping silence. \u201cI mean whatever, you didn\u2019t heal me, but where were you? Why did you abandon me?\u201d<\/p>\n
Was I ranting in that pasture for an hour? I don\u2019t know. The sun came up. I think it was pretty. Didn\u2019t really notice; I wasn\u2019t myself. Or maybe I finally was.<\/p>\n
Then I said it.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy heart died 42 years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
What do you say after that?<\/p>\n
And I cried, and He cried, and I guess every so often the Spirit gives a man words.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you ready to forgive God for not stepping in?\u201d<\/p>\n
Slowly, very slowly, I nodded, whispered, \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
And a thirteen-year-old girl leapt from the story of a nameless priest, took the hand of a thirteen-year-old boy, and led him towards Home.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Written by Jonathan Friesen, M.A. Photo by Joe Pohle I woke at exactly 4:06 am. I knew this as I snuck a peek at my cell phone. Mobile devices were not allowed on my silent retreat, but the glance felt like what a priest had earlier identified as a \u201cvenial\u201d or lesser sin. Fully awake, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":106,"featured_media":4483,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[35,41,46,44,42],"tags":[122,65],"class_list":["post-4472","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-christian-college-community","category-christian-life","category-college-of-arts-and-sciences","category-devotionals","category-education","tag-college-of-arts-and-sciences","tag-featured"],"yoast_head":"\n