I had another opportunity to visit the beautiful island of Lindisfarne on a few days’ retreat this week. I go there because I can be quiet and not have to speak beyond the functional; I can be anonymous and ‘be myself’, and no-one will care one jot. No demands, not emails, no requests, nothing to tend to apart from the voice of the Lord.
It was busy with it being more into tourist season than in previous visits, but waiting for the second tide of the day to go over meant that it felt like I had Lindisfarne to myself, even in mid-May. The centuries old St Mary’s church, which sits beside the monastic ruins, was still open at that late hour, and beautifully still. I got as comfortable as one can on a wooden pew and just enjoyed the pregnant peace.
When you get still, I find, there is peace to hear God, who often speaks with ‘the sound of sheer silence’. What God said, I suppose, is between me and him. His presence was almost physical – sensed as someone standing at my right shoulder even although the place was empty. The sense of a hand on my shoulder and an ‘it was time you came.’
Around the times of silence, are times to read, rest, and just be. In those times I often find that God adds the content that is taken back into the stillness and silence for contemplation. The silence is the place where what he communicates is refined and imprinted on the heart.
Beyond the specifics of 3 full days of waiting and listening, I’m convinced again that a good bit more of life needs to have this space and stillness to maintain the cut and thrust of ministry. Lindisfarne itself is a parable of this. When the tide is out in the day, there’s hustle, bustle and activity as the island opens up. When the tide is in, and the island is surrounded, there is stillness, space and an open heaven.
My introverted soul needs this space to catch breath before it can give out any more. Lindisfarne gives me this gift again and again.
Andrew S M Clark 