In the spiritual movement from Loneliness to Solitude, we begin, as related in the last post, with confronting the dynamics of our loneliness. For me this was not simply a conceptual exercise. My therapist worked on my feelings of loneliness by giving me assignments to learn how to be comfortable being alone.
This included pushing me to move my work office back out of the parsonage into the church office. This was to give my wife, Mary, the space and solitude she needed, as well as teach me how to be comfortable being alone. This was difficult for me at first, but I learned how to go into the sanctuary and take time for prayer and meditation, and it also helped me get my Doctor of Ministry thesis written.
As for going to the cabin alone, that, also, turned out to be a great gift. I spent time reading in spirituality, I prayed, I started meditating, and I started journaling again. I became more comfortable being alone and I soon was inspired by insights that came to me in my journaling as I made plans for the coming year. This was the beginning of untold blessings, as in future years I would take three sabbaticals, all of them organized around time alone at our cabin. Looking back, I can see clearly now how the movement from loneliness toward solitude began with those first two cabin days alone and evolved into my looking forward to longer periods in which I could focus on reading and writing and experimenting with various spiritual disciplines as a step toward deepening my spiritual insights and sense of being at peace with myself, God and the world.
I said earlier that the spiritual discipline of Confession is a key step in the movement from loneliness to solitude. But this is not so much confession for things we have done wrong or mistakes made, although it will likely include that. Rather, it is finally accepting and celebrating that we walk in grace every moment of life. By grace, I mean acknowledging that God loves and accepts us just as we are, even when we have trouble forgiving and accepting ourselves. Roberta Bondi, in her masterful spiritual book, Memories of God, shares the crucial spiritual insight she received from studying the early Christian desert fathers and mothers:
What I read was an exhortation to those early monks not to criticize or judge one another, but rather, to treat one another with the gentleness of our heavenly Father, who especially loves the ones the world despises, and who is always so much more willing than human beings to make allowances for sin, because God alone understands our circumstances, the depths of our temptations, and the extent of our sufferings. [31]
I still remember the profound effect this passage had on me when I read it for the first time on my first sabbatical in 1999. Most of us were raised to see God as hiding behind every corner, just waiting for us to do something wrong. Here God is just the opposite: God is not the persistent judge, but the relentless lover who is always ready to forgive and accept us because God alone understands how complicated and challenging our lives are.
To put it another way, we move towards a solitude of the heart not by perfecting ourselves, but by learning how to accept and love ourselves not because we never make mistakes, but because we are loved just as we are, by God and by many people around us.
What, then, is this solitude that we seek? St. Paul calls it the “peace of God, which surpasses all understanding,” which helps us make peace with ourselves and with each other. [Philippians 4:7] Richard Foster explains that “we can cultivate an inner solitude and silence that sets us free from loneliness and fear. Loneliness is inner emptiness. Solitude is inner fulfillment. Solitude is not first a place, but a state of mind and heart.” [Discipline, 84]
Nouwen explains it this way: “The movement from loneliness to solitude, however, is the beginning of any spiritual life because it is the movement from the restless senses to the restful spirit, from the outward-reaching cravings to the inward-reaching search, from the fearful clinging to the fearless play.” [Reaching Out, 23]
What began to happen for me on that first cabin retreat, and now has continued throughout the years in many different settings, is that I learned how to be alone and face my mistakes and fears, turn them over to God in confession and prayer, and then begin to find a peace within myself, not because I had never done anything wrong, but because God loves me as I am so that I can begin to love myself as I am.
Oh, I still think about mistakes I have made and people I have hurt and stupid things I have said, but those things no longer define me. What does define me is that I walk every moment of life in grace and unconditional love. Beginning there, my heart can then be open to the heart of God and God’s hopes for the world (the movement from illusion to prayer), and also be open to the hearts of others as we move from hostility to hospitality.
And yet, as always in the spiritual life, such solitude is not a state that we achieve, once and for all, but is a journey with many setbacks along the way. Nouwen summarizes this journey well:
So our loneliness can grow into solitude. There are days, weeks and maybe months and years during which we are so overwhelmed by our sense of loneliness that we can hardly believe that the solitude of heart is within our horizon. But when we have once sensed what this solitude can mean we will never stop searching for it. Once we have tasted this solitude a new life becomes possible, in which we can become detached from false ties and attached to God and each other in a surprisingly new way. [33]
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