"What new invitations are emerging?"
This question greets me at one of my favorite sitting places on my silent retreat.
At the start of my retreat, this question unsettles me. Do I hear an invitation? If so, what is it? If not, what does that mean? What if I don’t hear one the whole time I’m here? People expect me to “hear from God” in a place like this—but what if He is silent? What if I don’t do silence “right” and miss Him?
At the root of these questions lies fear. Fear that I’m not enough. Fear of failing. Anxiety about producing.
But slowly, as I enter into silence and redirect my eyes, ears, and soul, I hear Him. Every time. And I’ve been doing retreats on and off for nearly thirty years. I don’t always hear what I want. I usually come with an agenda of what I want to hear, and He gently moves my agenda aside and invites me just to be with Him, letting me know we can deal with “stuff” when I’m back in work mode.So, what new invitations are emerging?
This retreat has held an invitation to winter.
I usually take silent retreats in the spring, summer, or fall. Nature always plays a role in how I hear God. But this time, I wondered what it would be like to retreat in the cold, snowy winter—when stepping outside is less of an option.
Yet, as always, God has spoken through the winter landscape. The snowy paths, the stillness of the trees, the crisp air—all of it reminds me that He is present everywhere. It’s not The Hermitage that holds a special connection to God; rather, it’s that in this place, I slow down. I step away from distractions and listen.
How many moments do I miss experiencing God because I am too preoccupied with the calling rather than the Caller?
The invitation to winter is not new, but my understanding and acceptance of it are.
Just as trees go through seasons, so do we. Some trees require winter’s deep freeze to send nutrients to their roots and conserve energy for new growth. From the outside, they appear lifeless, but beneath the surface, quiet work is happening. It’s a season of rest—essential for survival and future fruitfulness.
Psalm 1 says that blessed is the one who is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season. Even for this tree, there are seasons of winter, of deep freeze, cold, barren, dark, and dreary. We are not protected from that season. We are to go through it, understanding that something important is happening during that time. Our roots go down deeper, and we realize we can flourish even in the winter. While here, I read a delightful book from Brother Lawrence, who lived in the late 1600s and was converted simply by looking at a tree in winter when he was 18 years old! The potential of that tree moved his heart to believe in God.
So I'm being invited to winter.
What invitations are emerging in your life? Are you in a season of rest, growth, waiting, or action?
I believe God is always speaking—if we have the courage and patience to listen.
I’d love to hear from you.