cure d'Ars Archives - Givens Creative

(The second of a three-part posting about seeking times and places of solitude in the midst of our busy lives)

“A life without a lonely place, that is, a life without a quiet center, easily becomes destructive.” – Henri Nouwen

churchlight — Light at the Center of a California Mission, by Steve Givens

We all need times of solitude in our lives for three interconnected reasons: We need to quiet the world. We need to quiet ourselves. And we need to do both of those things so we can better listen for God as he whispers our names and quietly lets us know just what it is we’re supposed to be doing with our lives.

Many years ago, I attended a retreat given by a Marianist priest and writer named Quentin Hakenewerth. With one simple lesson and a flip chart showing a set of concentric circles, he taught me something I have never forgotten and which has largely shaped my approach to prayer and seeking the will of God for the past 30 years.

He said, in essence, that the world (the outermost and largest circle on his chart) is a big, busy, noisy place. It screams at us to pay attention. With the general noise pollution of the world and with a constant barrage of advertising and media and angry, yelling people of all sorts, the world just never shuts up. Never. And we do it to ourselves, too. We fill every possible moment of silence with noise – with mindless talk, with music, with phone calls and emails and texts and tweets and Facebook postings. Even if some of these things make no audible sound, they are noise nevertheless and obstacles to our solitude and peace.

In the grotto at the University of Notre Dame, South Bend. Photo by Steve Givens

There’s an old story, attributed to the Curé d’Ars (St. John Vianney) that tells about an elderly man who enters his parish church everyday, sits for a while in silence, and then leaves. One day the parish priest (the future saint) asks him about what he does everyday. The man replies simply: “I look at God, God looks at me, and we enjoy one another.” I don’t know if I’ve ever heard a more clear and instructive description of prayer.

I think sometimes we try to make prayer more difficult or complex than it really is. There is no right way to pray, of course, and what may work for one person might be as dry as a desert for another. We can say the prayers we learned as children that have been etched into our brains and souls. We can recall favorite passages of scripture or poetry. We can just talk to God about what’s going on in our lives. Or, like the old man in the church at Ars, we can just sit with God and enjoy the company.

Many talk about being “filled” by God in prayer and that can be an apt description of what can happen in prayer. But here’s the problem: If we’re too full of ourselves and our busy lives, there’s just no room for God. So we have to empty ourselves. We have to get out of our own way and make some room for God.

My friend (a pen pal, actually), Sr. Immaculata, is an 89-year-old Sister of St. Joseph from Sault Ste. Marie in Ontario. She has spent her life in prayer and service, including teaching piano to children, which she still does. She wrote me a note just this past week and included this quote from the great mystic, St. Teresa of Avila: “There is no stage of prayer so sublime that it isn’t necessary to return often to the beginning.” Sr. Immaculata added: “That’s where I am right now and very happy to be there as I find the Lord being very gentle with me.” At 89, she says she needs to “keep working for a closer relationship with God.” Even now, she’s not afraid of or concerned with the idea of starting over. That’s a prayer in itself.

Returning to the beginning, I think, is about placing ourselves in the presence of God and then making room for him. Like an old married couple, it’s sitting before the fire together that means so much, not the words that are spoken or left unsaid.

Here’s a relatively new song I wrote with all this in mind. It’s called “Empty Myself.” Click on the link below to hear the song. There’s a bit of a gap before the music starts…be patient.

IMG_5158_2 — Self-portrait in the Ozark sun, 2009. Photo by Steve Givens

In the morning as the light breaks
I rise to face another day.
All my worries, all the distance
All the ways I fail to say:
I am filled to the brim…
I am filled to the brim…

In the silence, in your presence
I bring you all I have and hold.
All my loves and all that glitters,
All my gifts and dreams of gold.
I am filled to the brim…
I am filled to the brim…

So I empty myself.
Empty myself. Empty myself.
And I pray…fill me up.

In the evening as the day fades
I stop and try to find your gaze.
I look at you and you look to me.
I see beyond my mindless haze.
I am filled to the brim…
I am filled to the brim…

So I empty myself.
Empty myself. Empty myself.
And I pray…fill me up.

\”Empty Myself,\” by Steve Givens

Solitude: Quieting the world and ourselves (part two)

Emptying ourselves to make room for God