A Protestant at a Catholic Retreat House

December 3, 2005

God said, “Be still, and know that I am God.”

I wonder how often I get to know God, moments of really knowing him, because of my inability to be still. There is always the housework, the kids, the phone, the TV or radio going, how often am I really sitting still?

We don’t like confrontation. We don’t like being told we are doing something wrong or sinful. I think that is why many of us don’t let ourselves get quiet with God. Protestants don’t go to confession, so we can keep our sins to ourselves. Where they fester and grow and consume us.

Because that is the nature of sin; what it is designed to do. God likened it to yeast because it grows in the dark, places. What He wanted us to do, was to take our sin directly to Him. To expose those dark places to his light, killing the bacteria of sin, not to another human who has not the power to forgive, nor cleans us from that sin. God wanted to remove the barriers between his people and himself.

But the problem us, many of us do not come.

When he commanded the Israelites to leave Egypt that Passover night, he told them to take their bread unleavened, to leave the sin behind. It was only a symbol a subtle statement he was making, but the truth is still there.

Catholics, though they go to a priest for that absolution – they do indeed go. While a priest does in fact hear those sins … So does our loving and mighty God; the one who placed his spirit within our hearts to test us and know our authenticity.

Catholics know how to meditate and center their thoughts on a king, one they genuflect to and revere. Protestants treat him with an intimacy that he invited us into when he called us his children. We no longer live in a Monarchy and it’s difficult to imagine how to slip off the shell of an awful sinner, and wear the crown of a prince or princess as it says we become when we are born again into this family. It’s an interesting dichotomy between the God that the Catholics and the Protestants each portray. We have drawn lines and shed blood over the centuries between these two factions, but it is the same God we serve and try our best to become family with.

I am at a Catholic retreat center, a place where they encourage you to sit and meditate. A place designed to slow you down long enough to expose your sin and hurts to God. They offer the sacrament of confession and reconciliation, they offer their time and ear for counseling and they offer a quiet place to rest and put yourself back into balance.

Because I am not Catholic, and I have not taken the traditional steps that are part of this order, I don’t risk offending those who do not understand why I come here. So I have never done confession in the Catholic tradition. They have a complex series of oral quotes and replies that I do not know. There is a sacredness to their traditions that I would not step on.



But they don’t mind if I attend the retreat. I enjoy their conferences where they speak of the love of God and I recognize his character and nature within their eyes and the way they offer peace to me. I have found much healing in these hallways.

I think that is why I am writing this, to honor them and this place. To recognize that God is bigger than we are, that he has ever reached down to us to met us at our own points of need, no matter what our background. We are all from such vast experiences and cultures, is it so hard to believe that He can meet us where we are and draw us to Him from that point? It is a relationship.

I will use my own children when describing the next thing I want to say, because God used the analogy of children and parents when establishing our relationship with Him from the beginning. When my children were babies, I revealed myself to them by meeting their needs. I forgave them when they behaved badly, I bandaged their boo boos, I disciplined them when they needed it and I always, always, always told them that I loved them.

When they grew older I needed to show them that they could trust my word when I spoke. This meant that when I told them to stay in the yard, I had to follow up and do something about it when they didn’t obey. When I made a promise, I had to keep it so that later on, when I needed them to trust me with things they were too young to understand, they would still obey me until I could provide them with answers that would satisfy them.

When we come to God, we are first as little babies, who throw temper tantrums when we don’t get our way. We hold him responsible for the things that happen to us, without giving him control of our lives. We want it both ways.

Gradually I think we grow to a place where we understand that prayer is more about changing us and how we view things than it is about changing the circumstances. Not to limit God or make it sound as though he only operates under stealth any more… not so; only that we must come to that place where we surrender our control. Surrender our need to be right, to exact vengeance and to shape things to our liking. Prayer reminds us of our relationship to him; that being, one where we have permission to approach him on a personal level, yet never forgetting that he is the King. It puts our relationship with Him into proper perspective,

When we accept his authority in our lives and in our circumstances, when we are no longer trying to fight him for control, then he has the freedom to move in our lives and the changes, the transformation from baby to adult can begin. Here is where we find joy in the midst of strife, where we can be at peace even during war-time. When we release our burdens and hurts and pains that we cloak ourselves with, (that define who we think we are), then we are free emotionally to move freely within the circles that he has set us within. We are then able to be the part of God who has skin on to offer help and hope to those who are still struggling and lost.

As humans we are so quick to judge one another, to assign blame for the circumstances of others on whatever sin we think we see. Do you know how God sees us? He sees us harassed and helpless like sheep without a shepherd. Did you know that he left the ninety nine for you? That when no one else believed in you, he did? That through those long hard years when I personally held on to the sin I did and the sin others did to me in order to make myself strong, he was showing how weak he’d made himself? He left the glory of heaven in order to make it possible for me to be with him, while I was still sinning, before I ever knew what choices I would make.

He knews the outcome because he sits outside of time, he created it for us to live in. So he knew what I would choose, but that never once made it any less my choice or my responsibility to choose. It never made my struggles any less real.

This has turned into an evangelical letter. It wasn’t intended to, it’s just the way I lean into things I suppose. Thank you for letting me rant and spill the things in my heart, especially if you followed me through this far, even though I worked myself into preaching, I thank you. I get stirred up and I just can’t keep it quiet.

Have a great day today.