Barrett Freeman, Mount Carmel Baptist Church, "Cultivating the Spirit"
Cultivating the Spirit
---- Barrett Freeman
“O God, you are closer to me than I am to myself.
O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, you were within and I was outside myself.”
I don’t know if any of the preschool teachers witnessed it happen, but if they did, I imagine it was an awful site. One minute a 5-year-old boy is chasing friends across the church playground, the next minute he’s gone. Vanished. Although somewhat fragmented, I still vividly recall the scene. The sound of metal and concrete scrapping together, the earth giving way, and then, approximately eight feet later… cold, wet, and dark. That’s what falling into a manhole feels like. I know because that’s what happened to me. I can’t say I remember specific feelings and thoughts, but I do know the general details of the story because it’s been told to me and I have retold it countless times. Legend has it, I never cried for help, or shed a tear, nor was I in a state of shock. Despite those reports I’m sure I was scared. Now before you go thinking, “here comes the miracle,” let me say, I do not recollect hearing any whispers from God. I did not find super strength within myself to climb out. I have no memory of being surrounded by a warm, hopeful presence. I was rescued by the church’s pastor. James T. Richardson found a ladder and climbed down into the hole. When he found me, I had gathered myself into a tiny ball, my face was pressed into my knees, and my hands were cupped over my ears.
I was just waiting; alone, still, and silent.
So, my church story began with childhood trauma and to this day I don’t have the best relationship with playgrounds. However, the experience also gave me some courage about the future. The unthinkable could come to pass. I could literally be swallowed by the world around me, completely overwhelmed, in over my head, too small and too weak to pull myself out…and live to tell the tale.
That’s the tension I’ve been working through for the last forty years. I have proclaimed the importance of moving from dark to light, from solitude to community, from silence to joyful noise. I’ve been half right because none of those transitions ensure hope, peace, and joy. At least not when it comes to anxiety. Sometimes the proclaimed “playgrounds” of the world are the very places that swallow you whole. Sometimes it’s all the bright lights, the crowds, and the noise that overwhelm and isolate us. At least it feels that way more and more.
Today our world is more connected, busier, and louder than ever before. Our brains and bodies never stop. We know what’s happening all over the world the minute it happens. We get lost in Wikipedia rabbit holes filled with more information than we can process. Children are being documented and judged by their friend’s phones. Kids are in school 8+ hours a day. Adults are working 8+ hours a day. On top of that, school and work now come home with us via phones and computers. On top of that we are supposed to be volunteering in the community, supporting charities and civic organizations. On top of that we have sports and recreation, band recitals, and club meetings to attend. On top of that we need to maintain healthy exercise routines, go for runs, ride Peloton bikes and join gyms. On top of that we should have some form of a social life, which includes keeping up with the 733 closest friends we made on Facebook. Most importantly we have to stay up to date on the latest news, because we are supposed to have well informed opinions and strong convictions about situations we feel powerless to change.
I live in that world. My wife lives in that world. My children live in that world. My neighbors and my church live in that world. It’s a world where everyone is running as fast as they can and shouting as loud as they can. Our hearts are pounding and our minds are racing while searching for meaning and purpose in a blur of noise and activity. We are literally being swallowed up by the world around us, completely overwhelmed, in over our heads, too small and too weak to pull ourselves out. Five-year-old Barrett whispers to forty-five-year-old Barrett, “There’s another way…”
“O God, you are closer to me than I am to myself.
O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, you were within and I was outside myself.”
As a child I was forced by an uncomfortable situation to find shelter from too much. The place I went was WITHIN. Unfortunately, I have been outside of myself for so long that I’m not certain I know the way back. Especially amidst the business and noise of today’s world. It’s isolating and deafening. I appreciate the words of Jesus, who said, “you are worried and distracted by many things, but few things are needed…or indeed only one.”
It’s a good word. I have too much. I want too much. I’m surrounded by too much. I’m buried in the too much all around me and I want to climb out, but everywhere I turn there’s just more. The only place I’ve been hesitant to look…is WITHIN.
For centuries going WITHIN was almost exclusively the way people spent time with the creator and centered themselves. For our predecessors’ contemplative practices like, centering, simplicity, solitude, and silence were a common part of life. They mediated to open the eyes and ears of their hearts and minds. For them quiet time alone was viewed as essential and restorative. For them simplicity was freedom. If we were to practice that perspective, how might we be changed or healed?
At nearly 45 years my mind often goes back to that 5-year-old version of me sitting at the bottom of the manhole. I’m sure there are clinical terms for what I experienced, but I think what happened had just as much to do with my spirit as it did my brain and I want to cultivate that. I want to find my way back to that safe space WITHIN. A space where the creator already lives and waits for me. A place where there’s more that remains unexplored than all the world around me. R.S. Thomas said, “Too fidgety the mind’s compass.” That’s why I’ve chosen to cultivate the spirit as well.
Resources for your consideration:
· Celebration of Discipline by Richard Foster
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Barrett serves as Senior Pastor at Mount Carmel Baptist Church in Chapel Hill.
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