My retreat was successful, though not without its difficulties. I decided to go on a retreat at the last minute–too late to schedule a room at St. Bernard Abbey, up the road in Cullman, Alabama (I highly recommend a retreat there; when I went 2 years ago, the brothers were gracious and the setting peaceful). I was able, however, to get a room at Ross Bridge again, through the help of our friend, but I realized it was foolish for me to leave Teddie and the kids at home while I stayed at a hotel when all I wanted was quiet. So, Teddie took the children out to the hotel on Saturday afternoon so that they could enjoy the pool, and I stayed home. Then, I went out to the hotel on Sunday afternoon, and they came back to the house so that they would be ready for school on Monday.
You may have observed in reading this that there was a lot of coming and going in this plan, and that was a problem for me. It’s hard to pull back (the root of retreat) when you’ve got to engage with the world to pack and drive in the middle of things and coördinate getting the key to the room, etc. Plus, I found it challenging to pull back at home. Once the family left, the house was wonderfully quiet. But, I looked around and saw “stuff” that needed attention–laundry, dishes–and I had Internet access, which meant it was hard for me not to check email or post something here. I spent about an hour just trying to get quiet, and I found myself distracted throughout my time at the house. It was much easier to focus once I got to the hotel. Note to self: don’t retreat at home again.
My goal for the retreat was to seek direction for the rest of the year, and I got that. I have a tendency to fly off in too many directions, try to engage in too many things, and I end up either not doing them well, or I renege on a commitment. When I was in college, I wanted to be a “Renaissance man,” one who was skilled in all manner of things. Nice in theory, but not terribly practical for me. I’ve realized that I need to focus on doing a few–very few–things with excellence rather than dabbling in a lot. For me, those “few things” are teaching and writing. And even with only two areas to focus on, I still need to better consider and define my efforts. For the past few years, I’ve taught classes at church, and I had thought I would again this fall, but after praying about it this weekend, I’ve concluded that–for now, at least–it would be a distraction. As I said in my post last Saturday, I want to choose what is best from among many good options. Teaching at church would no doubt be good, and I enjoy it, but it is not the best use of my time and energy right now.
The Spirit provided direction in a number of areas, and the first He addressed was prayer. I’m reading Peggy Noonan’s John Paul the Great, and I was deeply convicted as she described his habits of prayer in the chapter titled “Popes Pray.” I pray a lot–I’m in on-going conversation with God throughout the day–but I lack structure and focus. For one, I’ve realized that my prayer life is pretty selfish: most of my prayers are for wisdom, guidance, and blessing for myself. I do pray for others, but not in any sustained way. If someone comes to mind, I pray for him or her, but I can’t say that anyone makes it consistently into my prayer time besides Dan. John Paul–this is amazing to me–regularly prayed for individual requests and needs that were sent to him. I immediately thought, “If he could do that, with his immense responsibilities, then surely I can broaden my scope.”
Related to this, I’ve made a decision to fast from TV for the next month. I sensed the Spirit calling me to this a few weeks ago, but I was reluctant. I’ll be honest: the new seasons of Stargate SG-1 and Stargate Atlantis were just starting (as well as the new show Eureka), and I didn’t want to miss them. I told the Spirit that I thought He was telling me to fast from television and that if indeed this was true, I knew He would bring it up again. He has, on several occasions, and I’ve resisted. I finally gave in and made the commitment. I wrote in my journal: This is hard. But then I consider: what am I really losing? Stargate? Mythbusters? How do they contribute to my life? Let me rephrase: how do they add, enhance, enrich? Yes, they give pleasure. But is it a pleasure that cannot be gained elsewhere? The answer is “no.”
A fortuitous circumstance occurred on Friday: mid-afternoon our cable went out and wasn’t restored until noon Saturday. I missed both Stargate episodes Friday night. Being forced to miss them once eased my withdrawal.
In the coming days, I’ll be posting about my efforts to deepen my prayer life as well as other insights I gained during the retreat.
Charis means grace, and that’s what this blog is about: grace, in all its—sometimes messy, always magnificent—manifestations. I’m Dan Butcher, and I invite you to join me in learning to lead a Christ-centered, grace-filled life. 
Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version ®, copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.