The practice of solitude suffers from some misconceptions.

An old misconception of the habit, which tempts our belief from time to time, is that solitude is primarily the domain of those who live in the desert or among cloisters and in monks’ cells.

We do have some impressive models from such traditions. There was St. Anthony of Egypt, who withdrew to the desert and lived as a hermit until he died at 105 years old. Hardly a week passed where he didn’t have some visitor coming to seek his wisdom.

Or maybe the word “solitude” conjures up a more recent spiritual practitioner, someone closer to home, like Thomas Merton, who wrote from a Trappist monastery in Kentucky.

We might also conceive of solitude as a luxury available only to folks with few external commitments.

But, as with all spiritual disciplines, practicing solitude is for everybody.

I’ve been having my inner world re-arranged again this Lent by Richard Foster’s Celebration of Discipline. He knows plenty about how often misunderstood the spiritual disciplines are. So on the very first page of his book, he says, “God intends the Disciplines of the spiritual life to be for ordinary human beings: people who have jobs, who care for children, who wash dishes and mow lawns.”

Solitude is for everybody.

It’s not to be confused with loneliness.

In loneliness there is a constant wish that things would be other than they are. There is a deep, unsatisfied craving–even a sad yearning, a missing of what is not there. Loneliness includes anxiety. It feels like being forgotten or passed by. Loneliness seems more often beyond our control, whereas solitude is a choice.

Solitude and loneliness are not the same.

Neither is solitude merely time alone… any more than holy Sabbath-keeping is just lack of working.

There are plenty of ways to not work and still disregard a holy Sabbath that we consecrate to God. And there are many ways to be alone but not really alone with God. We can be alone and not even really alone with ourselves. Our first impulse when solo might be to distract ourselves with some noise or input.

 

Sanctified Time

 

Solitude is not just time alone; it’s sanctified time alone. It’s dedicated and God-focused aloneness.

The Psalmist prays to God, “My times are in your hands” (31:15). Solitude is sanctified time, willingly placed in God’s hands. It is our attention, given over to God for the purposes of God, not the purposes of the self.

Many Christians through the years have suggested one reason God doesn’t “speak” to us today is that we’re too absorbed in other noise to be attuned to God’s voice in the first place.

Solitude, then, is being by yourself, but in such a way that you are clutter-free enough to hear yourself, and to be open to the voice of God.

I share here about solitude, using the same units we use to measure time: seconds, minutes, hours, days.

 

Seconds

 

It is possible, yes, to put even the seconds of our lives into God’s hands. We can give the tick of the seconds hand to God in such a way that even something like a quarter of a minute can be sanctified for God’s work in us.

All of the spiritual disciplines have both internal and external components to them. When we think about the seconds of our days, a soul-searching question to ask is: What do I default to doing when I have a short break? What do I reach for when I’m waiting half a minute for someone to arrive at a meeting? Even when I get to the coffee shop and there are only two folks in front of me, where does my mind go? When my kid finally stops running around because he or she has to go potty, what am I doing with the short break–interrupted as it soon will be by a request for help?

All of those instances are enough time to pray, for example, the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

I don’t mean we have to be deliberate about every single second of the day. That would be exhausting. And it’s good to just zone out sometimes. But especially if you’re struggling with where to find opportunities for solitude, those otherwise lost moments–those scattered seconds–are the place to begin. We all have these already-existing spaces–however small they are–that we don’t have to create. We just have to see them and be ready to use them as mini-retreats.

Thinking in terms of seconds an unexpected place to start on solitude. But this spiritual practice in particular, I think, is one where quality of time is at least as important as quantity of time.

If we don’t know how to sanctify the seconds of our lives for our communion with God–however brief it may be–if we can’t do that, we’re likely struggle when we carve out longer periods of time to reflect and pray by ourselves.

I was a professional house painter for a year. I wanted to paint fast (and well) like my boss. He cut in the best lines (with no painter’s tape!), and quickly.

But, of course, in my first weeks painting, I was only fast. As a result, I had to learn how to use a razor blade to take excess oil-based paint off window panes.

My boss referred me to Walter, the best painter in the city who occasionally worked with us. Walter trained me. He said: start with quality first. Get it right before you get it fast. Speed will follow good technique.

I slowed down. I got better at painting clean lines. My boss noticed my decrease in speed—how long it took me to do a window or baseboard—but he was patient. By the end the of year, I was painting windows and baseboards with no painter’s tape, almost as fast as my boss.

Solitude is like this, too: start with quality of time spent alone, then build quantity from there. Work on your solitude mindset technique, so to speak, in the seconds of the day.

And if you already regularly practice solitude with much greater quantity than seconds, pay attention to the seconds hand. God is just as present there as he is in your hour-long devotional time.

 

Minutes

 

Then there the minutes of our lives. They add up quickly, those minutes we need to get ready for the day, to do our hair, to take a shower, to wind down before we go to sleep. We spend minutes at a time in line at the grocery store. Minutes in the car (sometimes many minutes) stuck in traffic.

Like seconds, these minutes are already-existing moments we don’t have to create–they’re either built-in or beyond our control. And they’re a great place to practice solitude–opening ourselves up, in moments of aloneness, to God.

The other day I had to make what would be a 90-minute commute for a school meeting I was hoping would have just been an email.

Before leaving, I probably spent as much time complaining to my wife about the meeting as I would later spend stuck in traffic on the highway.

And I spent way too much psychological energy trying to figure out how I could redeem the 3 hours I knew I would be in the car. Audiobooks? Phone calls? Bass-heavy, hip hop music playlists?

To my surprise, when I got into the car to head out, I felt a fairly strong sense that I should just spend that time praying. Some of that praying ended up being confession for the non-prayer-like thoughts I had about the drivers around me. But as frustrated I was at all that time in the car, through God’s mercy, I was able to receive that solitude–such as it was–as a gift.

 

Hours

 

Our lives are made up of seconds and minutes… and also of hours. This moves us into territory where we need to carve out time and space for solitude. These hours exist–we all have the same amount of them each day. But a little more effort is required.

We’ve got to anticipate our first morning commitment and set the alarm for 15 or 30 or 45 minutes before that. Or look at what time our last commitment of the day will be and schedule time with ourselves and God at night, before we go to bed.

As we learn to practice solitude in the seconds and minutes of our days, time alone with God that is measured by the half hour and hour will become especially precious.

We heard the Gospels of Jesus–a man with relational demands on his time if ever there was one!–“But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.” Often–on a regular basis. Even while the sick and needy were trying to track him down and keep him from solitude. He withdrew–a proactive move to seek substantial alone time with God.

 

Days

 

Then, as the quality of our sanctified time in God’s hands increases, we’ll probably not be content with just seconds and minutes and even hours–we’ll start to consider whether we can spend periods of solitude that span half-days and full days.

Something like an overnight retreat or day trip to a local retreat center requires extra coordination, but it’s just as doable as planning a vacation.

 

As a Way of Life and Orientation of the Heart

 

As we weave in and out of seconds, minutes, hours, and days, the question we want to answer is: How we can live in an integrated way so that our heart’s orientation can be one of inward solitude and focus on God? Even with crowds and sounds and external demands around us each day, how can we devote our attention in a given moment to singular communion with God?

Solitude is a way of life and, overall, an orientation of the heart, whether we are alone or with others.

There is much that keeps us from practicing solitude. They are internal and external: external noise, internal noise, fear, an impulse of self-preservation, feelings of incompetence in the spiritual life, and guilt.

Especially the barrier of guilt can keep us from solitude. We may have a sense of shame or having fallen woefully short when it comes to practices like God-focused solitude. Both our past and present lack of success induce enough guilt to keep us from entering into God’s presence during important moments of our day.

But, friends, every day we have 86,400 new seconds to call God’s goodness to mind and pray. Each day affords us 1,440 more minutes to say to God, “My time is in your hands.” This time—this very second—is in your hands.

We don’t get to choose the use of all of these seconds and minutes and 24 hours. The sheer amount of inputs competing for our attention will always tempt us to pass off God-focused solitude as the purview of advanced spiritual masters. But if you miss the three-minute opportunity you just had to re-center on God, don’t beat yourself up. Just offer God the next little pocket of time you have–when you’re waiting for someone or in between commitments.

God’s promise to us through Isaiah is: “You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.”

Let us trust in God—let us trust God with our seconds, minutes, days, hours… and with focused hearts. May we fix our minds on Jesus through moments of solitude—moments both short and long. May God meet us there, and keep us in perfect peace.

Philip Yancey tells about a busy and overcommitted “spiritual seeker” who decided to check in to a monastery for a short retreat. The monk who greeted him said, “I hope your stay is a blessed one. If you need anything, let us know… and we’ll teach you how to live without it.”

To seek a posture of simplicity does not mean to eschew complexity or nuance of thought. We know those parts of life that are grey—not black and white—and that defy simplification.

But when we talk about simplicity of lifestyle, we also know what it means to overcomplicate things.

We take on too many commitments—all good ones, even, but then we can’t fulfill our responsibilities.

We lose track of where our money is going, and feel reactive rather than proactive with our finances.

We find ourselves surrounded with physical clutter at home or in our office.

We’re awash in mental and psychological clutter every time we unlock or open an electronic device.

We long for simplicity of focus, but often find our attention scattered.

We regret when our lack of simplicity prevents us from serving others. Valerie Hess, in her year-long Spiritual Disciplines Devotional, says that through simplicity “we seek to live a life that is pleasing to God, life-giving to ourselves, and has an element of availability to others.”

As many have pointed out, simplicity is both interior posture and external action.

Our inner lives and outward deeds mutually reinforce each other. Focused hearts produce focused minutes. And a simple lifestyle trains our hearts more fully on God.

 

Simplicity: Where?

 

Long before there was “Buy Nothing Day,” there was, “Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without.”

This is good counsel when it comes to material possessions. We want to interact with our possessions, but without anxiety. We don’t want to be possessed by what we have—or don’t have. We want to trust God with whatever we have, great or small.

And this applies not just to the stuff we have, but to our time, our financial position, our attention and focus, and even to how we interact with electronic media.

These are some of the sites where we variously experience focus and peace, or distractedness and discomfort.

 

Compulsion vs. Contentedness

 

So, yes, in a sense too much complexity is the enemy of simplicity. But I also think it’s our runaway compulsions that keep us from simplicity of life, simplicity of heart.

We are, as the great hymn says, “prone to wander.” This takes the shape of wanting more, of following our compulsions to pursue what we think we want, rather than living in joy no matter the circumstances. The call to simplicity is a call to contentedness, an exhortation to steward and enjoy what we have.

The Challenge

In Celebration of a Discipline Richard Foster tells about a friend who panicked one morning when his morning newspaper wasn’t in his yard. His friend realized he had an addiction to the morning paper. So he called and cancelled his subscription—he needed to quit cold turkey. I love Richard Foster, but nearly 40 years later, this example seems quaint. I wish my interior life were as simple as warring with myself about reading a print newspaper in the morning.

If the bombardment of statistics is true, many of us North Americans today can’t even get out of bed without checking our “newspapers” on our phones (by which I mean: text messages that came in overnight, our Facebook news feeds, and other notifications, etc.).

Foster concludes with advice that is, however, timeless and timely: “Reject anything that is producing an addiction in you.”

“How do you discern an addiction?” he asks. “Very simply, you watch for undisciplined compulsions.”

And I want to add: we should watch for “undisciplined compulsions”—especially the compulsion to worry—in these areas: time, finances, possessions, media, and our overall sense of focus.

Fear and worry keep us from simplicity. We somehow think that riding out the feelings of fear that come up will accomplish something.

Jesus was wise to ask, “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?”

Of course we don’t worry to try to somehow make there be 25 hours in a day. Or do we? How many times have we rejected the simple confines of sunrise, sunset, 6 days on, 1 day off, and tried to finagle 30 hours worth of commitments into a single day?

We are committed, as followers of Jesus, to a life of trust and simplicity. We resonate with this Proverb: “Give me neither poverty nor riches, but give me only my daily bread.”

But then, even as we are consuming the day’s bread, we worry about where it will come from tomorrow. Our fears and thoughts give way to unwise compulsions as we act on our lack of trust. We give up contentedness for a shot to add a single hour to our life by fretting, by grasping for at least mental control over our circumstances. If we can’t change our circumstances, we can at least feel a little in charge by worrying about them.

So God had to tell the Israelites, through Moses: Here’s some manna for you, but no one is to keep any of it until morning… because I will provide for you again, and I want you to go out and see it tomorrow. For now, sit back, relax, and enjoy what you have.

“Seek first the kingdom of God,” Jesus said, “and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.”

When we seek first the creations of the Kingdom, and not the Creator-King, our mind is divided, our attentions scattered, and our hearts are anything but pure and simple before the Lord.

The Vision

We do well to pray in such moments—as literal Gospel truth—“All things come from you, O Lord.” We can recognize that anything good in this life is a gift from God.

And we continue to pray, “Of your own have we given you.”

Perhaps the best antidote to a scarcity mentality is to give back to God and others out of the abundance of what we’ve received—giving generously of our time, our energy, our financial resources, and our skills.

 

Practical Ways Forward

 

If the goal is to “Seek first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness,” rather than seeking or worrying first about “all these [other] things,” what can we do externally that will shape us internally?

1. Pare Down: Less to Worry About

In general, we can shoot to pare down, so there is less to worry about.

Something as small as clearing out your backpack or purse or wallet of accumulated receipts and other random stuff can help sharpen your focus. Are you constantly carrying more than you need? Paring it down can help us have more mental clarity with which to seek the kingdom of God.

You may need to de-clutter your room or living space or car. You may find you have good stuff you just don’t need that you can give away to others who would appreciate it. See if you can find one or two things this week to give to someone else who would find them useful and enjoyable.

You might need to de-clutter your schedule, maybe even your email inbox. (Hint: take two minutes and start here.) And consider this short prayer from an old book of daily prayers: “Lord, do not let us do more, if in doing less, we might do it better.”

Start leaving margins, rather than squeezing more things into them. Pare down.

2. Simplicity of Speech

You could also consider practicing simplicity of speech. Jesus says, in the Sermon on the Mount, “Simply let your ‘Yes’ be ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No,’ ‘No’; anything beyond this comes from the evil one.”

In other words, Jesus says, when you say you’re going to do something, just say you’re going to do it… and, insofar as you can, do it. Don’t over-promise or over-represent yourself. Folks who too often say, “Believe me,” or, “I guarantee” sound more like snake oil salesman and less like people you would trust.

3. Enjoyment and Contentedness

About a year ago my college roommate sent me Marie Kondo’s The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing.

Parts of her approach are a little over-the-top for me, but I think it’s actually a great book with a lot to commend it.

When it comes to the things they are considering discarding or keeping, Kondo’s driving question she wants her clients and readers to ask is: “Does it spark joy?”

But maybe the apostle Paul’s ability to be content—whatever his circumstances—gives us an even more effective starting point. As we make an inventory of our clutter and distractions—physical ones and psychic ones—an even more powerful question can be, “Can I practice contentedness with this?”

Our being content is not rooted in things themselves, of course, but in a God who loves to care for and provide for his children. The Psalmist prays:

Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup;

you make my lot secure.

The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

surely I have a delightful inheritance.

To the back of your journal or a brand new notebook, add a couple daily writing prompts, like, “Today, I am grateful for…” and, “God, today I remember you have given me….” (fill in the blanks). Gratitude and contentedness go hand in hand, so maybe another external practice to adopt is to write a thank you note.

4. Attention/Focus

And if all else fails, and you need to super-charge your quest to seek first God, so that everything else falls into place… you could build yourself one of these:

 

 

This is The Isolator, from 1925. Which is kind of funny, because that guy thought the 20s was a distracting decade to live in!

Or you could just put your phone on “Do Not Disturb” for a little while and go the simpler route of Dorothy Day:

 

5. Foster’s 10 Principles

Finally, consider Richard Foster’s “Ten Controlling Principles for the Outward Expression of Simplicity.” His emphasis is on “outward expression”—there may still be some soul-searching and interior work you’ll want to do around issues of simplicity and sufficiency, worry vs. trust, compulsion vs. contentedness.

But in the middle of working through these principles in Foster’s book, I was distracted by wondering if Field Notes Brand in Chicago had released any new pocket notebooks in the last three days. When I read on their site, “Keep on scrolling. Things you need await,” I was sufficiently embarrassed, and decided we all probably could benefit from all the practical suggestions Foster gives us.

 

Conclusion: Start Today

 

May God give us the grace and courage to see the many good things of God all around us. May we be like the apostle Paul and know contentedness whether we have much or have little. He says to the church in Philippi: “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content (keeping it pure… and focused) in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.”

And then the secret to Paul’s contentment? It’s simple: “I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”

Check out this biblical scene as re-told by The New Yorker.

 

 

The cartoonist reminds us that there are not really any quick fixes in the spiritual life.

And our best times with God are not hurried, not like a lunch order to go… but like a carefully prepared meal, where we leisurely converse and savor every bite.

Ironically (regarding this cartoon), God did free the Israelites from Egypt using a little bit of magic—or miracles, at least.

But the most salient feature of God’s delivering his people from slavery was his presence among them. He tabernacled with them, literally. God was a God seeking a people among whom he could dwell, and make his home.

The spiritual habit in focus with this post is that of meditation. Christian meditation is a way to silently open ourselves up to the working of God in us. It’s a closer sense of communion—union, even—with God.

 

Lectio Divina

 

Lectio divina is an ancient way of reading Scripture that goes back to at least the Middle Ages. It means “divine reading” or “holy reading.” It has traditionally been used by Benedictine monks, but more recently has become popular with Protestant Christians, as well. “Lectio,” as it is called, can span 20 minutes or 2 hours. Through this sort of contemplative, prayerful reading of Scripture, we open our hearts and ears to the God who speaks to us through his Word.

Saint Benedict spoke of reading the Bible with “the ears of our heart.” We can become like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, where Jesus is not just written Word, but the living Word. The idea is that Scripture and time with God would not just inform us, but form us.

 

Four/Five Movements

 

Lectio divina is not meant to be a formula. The important thing is not so much to complete the following steps as such, but to enter in to communion with God. We want to open up a space where the living God—who breathes his Holy Spirit on us—can change and shape us. This process is meant to help us do that.

One writer talks about it as “feasting on the Word,” and says you first take a bite, then chew on it, then savor its essence, and finally digest it and fully take it in to your body.

Traditionally there are four steps or movements in lectio divina—I like five, actually, since I find that starting with deliberate preparation can be helpful for focusing a wandering mind.

1. Silencio: Re-orient

Here we simply prepare ourselves for an encounter with God.

A helpful verse many use is Psalm 46:10: “Be still and know that I am God.”

This “know that God is God” is what sets Christian meditation apart from just “meditation.” We are not emptying ourselves for the sake of emptying ourselves and achieving some kind of zen state—instead, we are casting aside our distractions and preoccupations so that we can enter into fuller communion with God.

So we can begin simply by finding a comfortable place to sit—not lay, because you know how it goes when you lay down to pray. We can focus on our breathing. We can even pray something aligned with our breaths, like: “I breathe in the breath of God.” “I breathe out the worries of my heart.”

2. Lectio: Read

Having readied yourself, the first thing to do is to read a passage of Scripture, as slowly as you can. You could even use multiple translations if you find that helpful. But don’t get too hung up on logistics.

Picking a shorter passage is best. Psalms are especially good as we do this type of meditative reading, since they are already reflective prayers.

As you read you are asking, “What does the passage say?”

3. Meditatio: Reflect

Then we reflect on the passage, and give it some time to sink in. Through meditation or reflection, we let God speak to us and see what one word or phrase particularly jumps out at us. Then we meditate on that phrase for at least a couple of minutes, repeating it to ourselves over and over and asking God to come be with us and speak to us through that word.

Through meditation we ask: “What is God saying to me through this passage?”

4. Oratio: Respond

Then, having begun to read and reflect, we shape a response to the passage. You might ask God why that particular word or phrase jumps out at you, and tell God how you intend to live according to that word. In these moments of prayer, we both listen and pray our response to God. We might ask, “What do these verses call me to?” “What do you want from me, Lord?” And, “What of God do I seek more fervently now?”

5. Contemplatio: Rest

Finally, there is rest. In the end we spend more time in silence, thanking God for his Word. We simply rest in God’s presence, receiving all that he desires to give us of Himself. We surrender ourselves, too, to the will of our loving God.

We might pray things like, “Thank you God, for your mercy, revealed to me this morning. I rest in your mercy. I receive your mercy. I accept your mercy.”

After moments of contemplation, you might even wish to make for yourself some kind of reminder to keep with you—you could write or draw or paint or create a short tune to sing… however you can best capture what you’ve experienced of God, to carry with you as your day progresses.

 

Try it Now, If You Like

 

You could even try it now, if you like. Here is a short passage to use, Colossians 3:15-17:

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

You begin with silent preparation—the sort of re-orientation you need to begin lectio, and then you can read that passage before each of the movements. If you want to try this right now, below is a summary of what’s above, that you could use to work through the movements with this text.

Silencio: Re-orient

Preparation

Psalm 46:10: “Be still and know that I am God.”

Moments of silence (focus on breathing, e.g.)

Lectio: Read

Read the passage.

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

Prayerfully ask, “What does the passage say?”

Meditatio: Reflect

Read the passage.

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

Prayerfully ask, “What is God saying to me through this passage?” (one word or short phrase)

Oratio: Respond

Read the passage.

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

Listen and pray your response to God

“What do these verses call me to?” “What do you want from me, Lord?” And, “What of God do I seek more fervently now?”

Contemplatio: Rest

Read the passage.

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

Rest quietly in the presence of our loving God.

Last Sunday I preached about the discipline of study: “Paying Attention to Word, Works, and Table.” I have been sharing my reflections on each of those three loci of study in a series of blog posts: the Word of God, the works of God, and the Table of God (the focus of this post).

Everything surrounding the Table of God is worthy of our careful attention and study.

I love that the disciples on the road to Emmaus did not recognize Jesus until communion time. Many communion liturgies highlight the four-fold movement that Jesus made when sitting at the table with those disciples: “When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him….”

But get this: before they recognize Jesus and before he disappears, they’ve already been engaged with Jesus in the spiritual discipline of study. Luke 24:27:

And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself.

Talk about the best Bible study leader ever! They were studying the Word of God with the Word himself. Yet they missed him.

And they were studying the works of God, especially the piece of salvation history they had been so privileged to observe first-hand. Jesus plays dumb to what’s going on in Jerusalem. But then in verse 19 they carefully recount the story of the works of God they have observed: “He was a prophet, powerful in word and deed….”

It’s not to pit against each other the Word of God, the Works of God, and the Table of God. May God give us the experience of his grace and presence in each of those areas of study! But it is to say that in Luke 24, Word and Works only took these disciples so far… until they sat down at the Table, with the risen Lord.

May we pay careful attention to the words we hear and say each time we approach the Table. May we give our full energy and alertness to the bread and the cup, every time we come forward to receive. When we turn our full attention to the communion table, we are poring over the words of Scripture, hearing them again and again and finding deeper meaning. When we come to the communion table, we are eating of the work of God’s creation: the grain of the earth and the fruit of the vine. And when we receive communion together, we do it in the context of this salvation narrative:

For God so loved the world, that he gave his one and only Son… that whoever believes in him would not perish, but have everlasting life.