My Kind of Wilderness

The Wilderness is lush, green Virginia mountains—probably just the foothills of the Appalachians, but to someone who’s been in the flatlands of Texas for the past 14 years, they look a lot like mountains (and they climb JUST like mountains). Retreat is the Crossroads Camp and Conference Center, located about 2 hours west of Richmond. Beautiful doesn’t begin to convey the essence of this “wilderness”.

Wilderness Retreat is a class offered during the May term at Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond. I told the UBC family that it just sounded sabbatically, and now I know it is sabbatically, in every sense of that non-word. And so I began my sabbatical experience as a “foreign exchange student” that they welcomed and accepted without much obvious difficulty.

Dr. Stephen Brachlow was the professor, and there were about 25 of us “in the class.” I thought I’d be the longest commuter, but Ralph Stocks beat me out on that one. He came from Budapest, Hungary, where he and his wife are CBF missionaries.

The class is a collection of phenomenal people, all at different places, preparing to serve in ministry wherever God leads. Several are graduating in a few weeks, some are looking for jobs, some have jobs, and some just want to keep learning. At least 3 are getting married this summer, and at least 2 (not the same 2 of the 3 getting married) are having babies this year.

They talk of MIE’s (missions immersion experiences), internships, theology class, summer missions, and churches they serve. They mention people they seek to reach, and dreams they have for the future. They’re a pretty special group of people, and I count it a real privilege to have spent the last 4 days worshipping, praying, laughing, and listening with them.

Much of our time was spent in reading the sayings from the 4th and 5th century desert abbas and ammas . We used Henri J.M. Nouwen’s book, “Desert Wisdom”, and Laura Swan’s book, “The Forgotten Desert Mothers.” Three times each day we participated in the daily office of prayer, using Gregorian-like chants to read the scripture in the morning, at mid-day, and in the evening. There were several gatherings to hear more about the lifestyles and writings of the desert ammas and abbas. Afternoons were free—for reading, resting, hiking, praying, or whatever we would choose in the spirit of “retreat”. We also debriefed each day in small and large groups

And then there were the blocks of silence—long blocks of silence, that sometimes extended through mealtimes, and often began in the evening and continued through the morning. And on Thursday came the finale’—Fasting and the Great Silence. It actually began on Wednesday evening, so it was 24 hours of fasting, and almost all of that in silence. We concluded this afternoon with a silent Lord’s supper.

Silence is a hard thing to do—really hard for some of us, and not so easy for all of us. Sometimes it was draining, sometimes it was invigorating. Sometimes we heard things we may not have heard had we not been silent—like the rushing mountain stream, or the crunching of bacon, or the voice of God. It was new and different for most of us, but I saw value in it—if for no other reason, just to shut-up and let someone else speak.

Wilderness Retreat was a very good thing. Maybe just a taste of the ascetic life, but a great lesson in beginning the day listening to God, and finding HIS grace when the day is done.

Thanks, Dr. Brachlow and fellow students, for pointing me toward a new path that follows the living streams of God’s grace.

Care-full-y,
rick