Muted

To be honest, I can't keep track of Paul's imprisonments recorded in the New Testament.  They seem countless.  Their individual significances and differences are completely lost on me.  All I know is that Paul was a man on a mission who persevered with the determination of a fierce athlete.

So today when my pastor pointed out the gravity of Paul's two-year incarceration without any recorded letters written during that time, I took note.  "When two years had passed, [Emperor] Felix... left Paul in prison," Acts 24 reads.  Over two years in his prime spent in a cell.  We read Paul's experience and personality into this story and presume fruit was grown and reaped during his tenure in prison, but there is essentially no evidence to assure us.  

What if Paul simply sat and prayed?  What if he despaired?  What if he sang?  What if he spent weeks in silence and enjoyed only one conversation with a skeptic?  What if he spent weeks in silence and enjoyed only one conversation?  What if?

God has afforded me comfort lately in pointing out that patriarchs, popular New Testament figures, and modern day saints alike have all lived "muted" years.  These years spent void of memorable color and spice passed void of noteworthy productivity or miracles.  Noah was 500 before he is even mentioned in the Bible.  Moses and the Israelites wandered the Arabian desert for 40 years between the miraculous parting of the Red Sea and the long-awaited arrival to the land promised.  This morning I learned of Paul's muted years.  

Lesson to self: These years are not unique to me.  I gather that they are not necessarily BAD, perhaps they are simply part of the package, an ebb in the flow of life.  At the risk of creating a self-fulfilling prophecy, I tentatively think I'm in such a season now, and thank the Lord that I'm not alone!  Other folks, even Bible folks, gusty folks, and wise folks describe having lived through a few muted years along their way. 

Henri Nouwen confirmed and articulated this for me tonight with his September 2, 1985 journal entry written during his first days at a L'Arche community, a haven where mentally handicapped people live together in the spirit of the beatitudes.  After voluntarily leaving Harvard Divinity School and all of its prestige, Nouwen entered a simple and communal life at a L'Arche community located in the tiny French village of Trosly.  

Here he entered a season outwardly muted, yet spiritually enriching.  No brilliant books.  No fascinating lectures.  No reputable companions.  A journal of thoughts, prayers, and questions is all that year produced.

"I know in my heart that now is the time to pray, to read, to meditate, to be quiet, and to wait until God clearly calls me.  I am happy with the clarity I have... This is clearly a time for hiddenness and withdrawal from lecturing and giving retreats, courses, seminars, and workshops.  It is a time for being alone with God.  I feel a tension within me.  I have only a limited number of years left for active ministry.  Why not use them well?  Yet one work spoken with a pure heart is worth thousands spoken in a state of spiritual turmoil.  Time given to inner renewal is never wasted.  God is not in a hurry." 
Henri Nouwen, The Road to Daybreak: A Spiritual Journey