24 Hour Retreat - February 27 & 28, 2012

24 Hour Retreat                    LDN                             Andy Buwalda                February 2012

It was with some trepidation that I began my 24 hour retreat. I spent an hour or so the night before packing… and Joey the same with putting together a care package for me… she did well… she put together enough to feed an army! The tools… I took all my tools… well not quite but a lot because experience has taught me not to be without the tools I need. If you have everything but you forgot your  blankity-blank-whatever, well then you are up the proverbial creek! I had made arrangements with the resident Woodsman at Kingfisher Bay Resort a week earlier to work on a rustic bridge of sorts which would ford the Mudsquat River that feeds Golden Pond.  This pond is the location of the cabin where I would be spending my 24 hour intentional time with God. How was I going to spend 24 hours doing … what again exactly?  I know I would be sleeping at least 8 hours so really it’s a 16 hour retreat.  And then of course I need to eat  (I am not into fasting  much)  and I gotta’ get my stuff  in order and all. And I’ll be in the cabin so I gotta’ stoke the fire to keep myself all cozy and happy.

I arrived at 11:30 … just a half hour before noon. The Woodsman was already down by the mouth of the river where he had some logs ready as planned.  We would be building right on the snow… and let nature do the rest … come spring we would see where the bridge had settled.

I loaded my stuff out of the van and into the cabin… but didn’t set up … more interested in surveying the situation on the proposed work site. Question: just where is my interest here anyway… the bridge or on God?  We discussed how and what we were going to build… we listened to each other’s ideas etc. and settled on a plan: the Woodsman would help me set up the big logs, and put two cross-pieces at either end. The two cross-pieces would have notches cut into them so that the logs – three of them spanning the gorge - could sort of sit in the notches.  I had taken some 12 inch lag bolts with me and a half inch wood bit and so I would lag the logs into the cross-pieces.  Where upon I would proceed to put the deck boards on.   We would finish it off with two smaller logs on top of the deck boards on either side as edging. Sounds simple enough, said Simon to the Pie man. The bridge, by the way would be approximately 6 feet wide and 18 feet long. It would not be a bridge too far… nor would it be a bridge too short… it would be a bridge just right.  Well… we shall see about that come spring!

Time to get to the matter at hand… do some meditating!  After all that is why I ‘m here…. right?  Okay gotta’ get myself set up… put my stuff away… get the food out … what exactly did Joey pack for me … awright … lotsa’ good stuff.   Put this here… put that there … what about this, that, and the other thing?  Okay,  now then, got that all done … Oh the fire – yes… needs some more wood…  so then that’s done … now what… I suppose … yes I suppose I should sit and be quiet or something. So I…

 …decided I needed to go for a walk… while it was still bright and sunny out. By this time it was about 2:30p m. I had already done about three hours work on the bridge … it was half done!

The walk was wonderful. Everything was quite… beautiful… serene… and it was easy walking thanks to the Woodsman’s ready-made trail. I stopped periodically to listen… no, not for God… I was listening to the woods…yes the woods.  It’s all very quiet but when you listen… stop and listen… hold your breath… there are lots of subtle sounds… especially in a winter wood like this one… in the depths of winter… the woods are asleep… not dead… no,  asleep… and it makes the sounds of sleep. Think of a baby … say six months old… and the baby is sleeping… there is a gentle rhythmic breathing… you only hear if you stop to listen… a soft snap of a branch… a slight scratch as Rufus the Red Squirrel scampers up a tree…  the crunching sound of your footsteps in the snow… stop… listen… it’s alive… all around … asleep … sap pails hung here and there… reminders of the great awakening  to come… tapping into the life blood  coursing through the trees…

I chanced to see… no, I did not chance to see at all… it was there, placed very conspicuously for me to read: Psalm 130… the profundis psalm … so called because, yes it’s profound - but more because it speaks of someone calling out to God “from the depths”.  It spoke to me … but to be honest, my mind turned to practical things. …I thought, “I could use this for Sunday’s congregational prayer… just change the pronouns from personal singular to personal plural.”  I took this Psalm back to the cabin with me.

Here is the psalm: (from the NIV):

 Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord; Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy.  If you, Lord, kept a record of sins, Lord, who could stand?  But with you there is forgiveness, so that we can, with reverence, serve you.    I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope.  I wait for the Lord.   More than watchmen wait for the morning, Israel, put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord is unfailing love and with him is full redemption.  He himself will redeem Israel from all their sins.

Here are some of my thoughts (meditations?) on this psalm.

“From out of the depths I cry Oh Lord” The writer is beseeching God … begging Him … crying out to God - from “out of the depths” - because he is desperate. The picture I get is someone in a deep, dark pit and he cannot get out. He looks up and can see a tiny spot of bright light and of course that is where his attention is directed… that is the escape route… that is where God is and that way lays salvation.  But it is so far away … like a pinprick of light … like a star… hardly giving any light or warmth at all.  To imagine someone that desperate is kind of difficult unless maybe you have been there. “Out of the depths” suggests the abyss… the depths of the ocean!   I don’t like those metaphors… the abyss and the “depth of the ocean” would mean death… and maybe that is what the writer feels… death is waiting. And so he pleads desperately for God and for mercy. Applying this to myself I don’t feel quite that desperate. I feel more like I am in a huge cavernous cave and all I hear are my own echoes. Like calling out across the Grand Canyon hoping someone on the other side (18 miles across) will hear you.   

Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy.  For this let’s go back to the pit metaphor or even with the Grand Canyon… standing at the bottom of either and shouting for someone to hear you … your voice sounds feeble, hoarse… it sounds like it’s being swallowed by the walls and so you might think: “Isn’t there anyone out there? Can’t they hear me? Don’t they notice I am missing?  Somebody listen to me … I am down here … here … down here!!!”   The writer uses the word “attentive”. Now I don’t know what the word for ‘attentive’ is in Greek or Hebrew but in English it suggests someone paying attention to you as in not ignoring you.  So it seems to me there is a bit of a switch here from God ‘not hearing’ to God ‘ignoring’.  But still the writer beseeches God for mercy… he has some hope, else why would he even try to get God to help. Also, he knows that in the Lord lies his salvation and without God’s help he is in the depths of despair.

 If you, Lord, kept a record of sins, Lord, who could stand?  The writer knows that if God were to keep a record, and he , the writer, had to be accountable , he would be lost. The game would be up. He would have no hope. The thing is God does keep a record. .. the proverbial doomsday book… in which all that you have said and done is recorded. And so the writer is aware that no-one, and for sure not himself, could stand the scrutiny of the light of day and come out in the black. What if the Lord, the Creator of the universe were to list off and read back to him all his sins and transgressions? Or, to apply it to myself, what if He were to read me all my thoughts… down to the slightest misdeed…to the merest fleeting thoughtless thought. What if!  It would be so unbearable…who could bear it!

But with you there is forgiveness. This is a psalm. It was written before the Lord walked on this earth as one of us. But the writer knows and believes God is a merciful God… he believes that God will forgive.  How does he know this?  Is this another indirect prophecy of Christ redeeming his people? Or does he know because his knowing is a gift from God himself?! Maybe both.  In which case God is paying attention… sort of.

“so that we can, with reverence, serve you.”   Other translations use the word ‘fear’ instead of reverence.   If you believe God has the power and authority to forgive … and you feel you need forgiveness from Him… then you will definitely fear and respect and have reverence. To put it another way, wouldn’t you fear and respect someone who has the power of life and death over you? I dare say you would!

I am not going to finish my thoughts on the psalm… it is getting too long. And I do not want you to think I did that much meditating all in one stretch. Nope… I interspersed it with 15 minutes on my harmonica… but then I was winded. Am I out of shape or what! And maybe it’s also that I am getting older… there is always that as well.

Then I stoked the fire and sat back… just did some sitting and looking at the fire… munched on some cookies… thought about meditating… what was I doing… just be quiet and listen… ya,  listen… the walls have electrical outlets,  I wonder why the wainscoting has been painted white rather than just left natural… tomorrow I will put the rest of the deck boards on… knock, knock… come in… the Woodsman came to check up to make sure all is well… yes, yes, … please come in … here have some cookies… I have lots. The Woodsman and I chatted for a while … about this and that and the bridge just right and then he said goodnight after making arrangements to bring me a coffee at about 9:30 tomorrow morning. In our discussion he had informed me that Herman Elgeti had passed away.  We had just prayed for him Sunday in the evening service but apparently he had already passed away by then. After he left I made my bed … by unfolding the couch… and went to bed… and thought about Herman and death in general.

The next day was another lovely day… bright and sunny.  When the Woodsman came with the promised coffee I was ready for him. We sat and chatted some more over coffee and chocolate chip cookies… I had already had my breakfast. Then off to the bridge which wasn’t very far.  The Woodsman and I arranged for him to come back around 12 with the generator so we could saw off the one side of the bridge as the deck boards were all different lengths. He came at the appointed time… in another hour we were finished and the bridge was complete. More needs to be done to it, but it must wait till spring… at least until May I suspect.

So then I decided to walk again – down the Outback trail – back along the Cabin trail…then around the Andyman trail… and on back to the Outback trail. This is where I did the listening… to the sleeping woods… looking at the snow and the trees, listening to the birds (there weren’t many) … and again listening. Some might say it was eerie… but not I… but I was loathe to say goodbye.  And not because I was sad to leave… no, rather because I felt disappointed that I did not do more meditating… and now the intentional time I had allotted was gone or almost gone.

If you have gotten this far dear reader I commend you for your perseverance. I left at 1:45 p.m.   I had been there for 26 hours and 15 minutes. I went home the long way… by way of Omemee which is half way between Lindsay and Peterborough,…to visit brother William.  He has just lost a very good and best friend, Herman Elgeti. He and Herman spent a lot of time together doing the Lord’s work; William preaching at old age homes and Herman at Warkworth prison. Together they organized the Ulungo Mission project in Kenya for which I was their rep at Hebron. The mission was successful in getting a windmill, a water tank, and a clinic built for the surrounding villagers… a village devastated by poverty and AIDS.              

Thence home.


P S  As it happened, I made a three week mission trip to Kenya back in 2008 so I can picture  just what the village looks like.