Finding Solitude in Suburbia

I just finished reading an amazing book called Death by Suburb: How to Keep the Suburbs from Killing Your Soul.

Honestly when I picked it up, I thought it would be a humorous Erma Bombeck meets Jerry Seinfeld take on serving God while living in the suburbs. Never did I imagine this book, with a picture of the perfect plastic family on the cover, would bring me to my knees asking God to forgive me for using Him as an accessory to my seemingly perfect suburban life. (I think I just wrote a run-on sentence!)

To me, the main premise of this book is summed up in this one passage:

"The suburbs tend to produce inverse, spiritual cripples. Suburbia is a flat world, in which the edges are clearly defined and the mysterious ocean is rarely explored. Every decision gets planned out, like the practice of registering at retail stores for one's wedding gifts. Only tragedy truly surprises.

In the 'burb I inhabit, many are the opportunities for Bible study, innovative worship services, helping the homeless, children's programs, small groups, and much more. Yet I can't shake the image of the inverse cripple with a bloated, tiny soul. Perhaps that's one of the effects of comfortable suburban living. Too much of the good life ends up being toxic, deforming us spiritually."

Each chapter of the book outlines a particular "Environmental Toxin" unique to suburban America (which really is more of a state of mind than physical address). The first toxin is "I am in control of my life." Goetz says the anti-venon to this particular toxin is the prayer of silence. Put simply, we need some solitude.

Let me just say that I stink at solitude. I am not someone who wants to sit and think deeply. Since I am an overly energetic person, I always thought I did my best thinking while the rest of my body was engaged in doing something else--painting, sewing, washing dishes, mowing the yard or riding my bike. In reality, I have fallen for the lie that by being busy and efficient I can control my own life.

How stupid is that?

So what happens to all of us people who are overcommitted and too busy for a little solitude before our Savior?

"One day you arise and discover you wouldn't know if God was at work even if there were handwriting on your wall. You have no capacity for seeing God."

Ouch.

I can travel a few miles in any direction from my house and worship in a modern-day cathedral (we call them megachurches today), but I can't see God because I'm too busy. No wonder everything seems out of focus.

In Death by Suburb, Goetz also bursts my bubble on what real solitude is by explaining what it is not. It's not a time that you schedule in your calendar to hear directives from God. It's not like one of those meetings where you meet with your boss to update him on your projects. There is no sense of obligation on God's part to show up and say anything to us.

Goetz quotes theologian Henri Nouwen's startling discovery on solitude:

"It's not easy to sit and trust that in solitude God will speak to you--not as a magical voice but that he will let you know something gradually over the years."

I'm with Goetz when he says "It's that 'over the years' part that bothers me. I really don't have time for that."

(Can I get an amen from anyone on that?!?!?)

So if solitude is not a time to listen for God to speak, then what is it?

"The life practice of solitude, then, is the opposite of my expectations of escape and rest or an immediate ushering into what I think is God's presence. It is more a discipine or struggle than it is of serenity. It's no formula for controlling my outer world or how I feel. It's the ongoing guerrilla war to loosen my choke hold on creating and gathering to myself the life I think I need. I don't pursue giving up control; I pursue the practice of solitude."

So I don't need to escape my overcommited suburban existence to find solitude? I just need to recognize the futility of being in perpetual motion and trying to make my life comfortable. Is that possible? I'll keep you updated.