Trisha Mugo

Real Grace. For Real Life.

On Float Tanks and Biblical Meditation

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By Jon Roig via Creative Commons Flickr view photo here http://www.flickr.com/photos/runnr_az/5840856909/in/photolist-7UVMq1-6vWW9Z-hVoeu-9U8WRx-9U8Vgt-e65zwD-pmHn7g
By Jon Roig via Creative Commons Flickr view page here

I hadn’t really understood the appeal of a deprivation tank until I crawled into a small hiding hole on the playground the other day.

I let the peace take me as I stayed tucked inside the enclosure longer than what’s probably socially acceptable.

Maybe it’s taken me the chaos of the last year to appreciate the longing to hide myself away in total serenity.

And I only just realized people are floating inside those coffin-like tanks. Apparently, it’s a big thing.

High-end “float spas” are sprouting up as folks clamor to pay mucho dinero for the opportunity to unwind in total sensory deprivation.

The goal is to float your cares away. Proponents say it’s a meditation tool.

Maybe I’m a sucker for fads, but where do I sign up?

In an isolation tank no phone incessantly beeps. There are no pressing emails to return. I could easily float an hour by in one. What about you?

I’ve tried locking myself away in the pantry but my kids always find me and usually accuse me of sneaking chocolate. (Guilty).

The playground and the seriously cool fad have me thinking about biblical meditation.

I’m not talking about the Eastern or mystical kinds of meditation. In today’s harried world I understand the temptation to empty our minds. And most of us need to unplug more.

 But when I say biblical meditation I’m thinking more about the quiet filling our minds with God’s truth until joy spills into our lives.

Something along the lines of this, “Meditate in your own hearts upon your bed, and be still. Selah” (Psalms 4:4).

“Of the glorious majesty of your honor, of your wondrous works, I will meditate,” (Psalms 145:5).

“I remember my music in the night, with my heart I meditate, and my spirit doth search diligently” (Psalms 77:6).

The Bible’s filled with the idea of meditation. But few people I know do this. The biblical sense of the word has grown a little stale.

Mention “meditate” at a Bible study and you could get some sideways looks. Newer Bible translations don’t even bother using the word, choosing to use “think” instead.

So, I want to know what you all think. What does meditation mean to you?

From what I can gather Christian meditation doesn’t get much attention as far as spiritual disciplines go. I can barely find a recent book involving the practice that doesn’t have the word “Yoga” in the title.

I think there’s something to this ancient practice. Do you?

 

How Stillness Leads Us to Worship

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Photo by Jimmy Brown via Creative Commons
Photo by Jimmy Brown via Creative Commons

I feel the space heater warm my nose while I tug the blanket ever closer. Today, cold air is the price I pay for half an hour of stillness.

I sneak away to the part of our house where the thermostat reads 60. I lay open my Bible along with my anxious mind and discouraged mama heart.

It’s worth the frigid toes—this rendezvous with Jesus.

And always in these moments I ask myself why I don’t purpose this quiet more.

Most days Psalm 46:10, “Be still and know I am God,” feels like an accusation. I want to be still and know. So I work harder to create rest time, but rest never comes.

But always when I work from a posture of rest, I’m amazed at what I accomplish.

There’s a type of prayer we yell in frustration. And another we whisper to ourselves, but the best prayer of all is the prayer when we stop to listen.

Photo via Creative Commons
Photo via Creative Commons
Photo by Vinoth Chandar via Creative Commons
Photo by Vinoth Chandar via Creative Commons

This God of ours longs to speak life to us. He pines to abide in us—to spill his life out of us.

It’s easiest to listen in the stillness, and I seem to only find these tranquil places out of desperation.

When my heart breaks, I come. When fears ransack, I seek out this solitude. “Here I am,” I whisper Isaiah’s ancient words. “Send me.”

So much of my time I spend searching for my calling “out there somewhere” I can never seem to reach. All the while taking for granted this greater calling that’s much closer to home.

Stillness helps me embrace motherhood, to rest into this calling of diapers and dishes. The practice of quiet grounds me with God’s purposes for me in the present.

Waiting on God helps give birth to the fruit of the Spirit in me. Show me a home that can function without love, joy and peace?

I’m learning to rest in this calling of motherhood. I’m learning to look past the work and the exhaustion of a job that never ends, because in the serving I catch a glimpse of the kingdom of God.

You know the one that appears sideways to us turned-around sinners? The one where the humble are exalted and the foolish teach the wise.

In the bowing low of motherhood I see how we’re most alive when we’re dead to self. I see how the real work is not in the doing, but in the quietness of believing.

Do you remember what Jesus told the over-zealous disciples who were eager to find out how to do the “greater works?”

“Jesus told them, ‘This is the only work God wants from you: Believe in the one he has sent’” (John 6:29 NLT).

Stillness can give birth to a beautiful belief.

And when we purpose to listen somehow we carry the stillness with us back into our chaos.

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