“ Trying to listen to the ‘ still , small voice ’ within can be like searching for a needle in a haystack . ”
On a warm September day in 2012 , I packed up my gear and drove down from Nashville to Birmingham for a big gig . On my way down Interstate 65 , I stopped in Franklin to say hello to my friend and mentor Ian Cron . I sat on his porch and confessed my reluctance and state of emotional confusion . It was a dream gig , yet on that day , I couldn ’ t care less about going . I was simply too exhausted from a very busy and highly “ successful ” year .
In classic Ian fashion , he asked , “ Have you ever been on a silent retreat ?” He knew too well the burnout I was beginning to experience . I had heard him talk often about the power of spending a few days in silence , so the question didn ’ t surprise me at all . In fact , I knew it was coming .
“ No ,” I answered with a sigh . “ It ’ s been on my mind , but I just haven ’ t made time for it yet .”
“ Well , you may want to consider doing that soon ,” Ian suggested . That same month , I drove up to Kentucky to spend three days at the Abbey of Gethsemani , a Trappist monastery tucked away in the countryside . When I approached the grounds , I saw a sign that read silence is spoken here . This gentle rule encouraged me to be mindful of my voice as I entered the peaceful domain , where practicing silence is a way of life . I checked in , found my room in the dormitory , and spent some time walking the grounds . Whoever designed the abbey was so thoughtful in creating intentional spaces to simply be and contemplate . A courtyard . A library . A humble graveyard for monks who ’ ve passed away . Multiple prayer gardens , some with winding paths marked by the Stations of the Cross . And of course , the sanctuary — a clean , white , minimalist chapel with a lofty ceiling , where prayers and psalms are chanted throughout the day .
But my favorite part of the abbey , of course , was the surrounding forest . Miles-long trails curve through the trees , past a lake , into a clearing , and up a hill . That forest became my haven . I spent many an hour in silence while I rummaged through the boxes of my mind and sought rest for my fatigued soul .
The first two days weren ’ t easy . So many voices and anxious thoughts filled my head . It was almost too overwhelming . Trying to listen to the “ still , small voice ” within can be like searching for a needle in a haystack . Which voices am I supposed to listen to ? Is God even speaking to me ?
“ Trying to listen to the ‘ still , small voice ’ within can be like searching for a needle in a haystack . ”
Or am I just wrestling with my own demons ? My life is exciting , but am I truly happy ? Do I like who I ’ m becoming ? I can ’ t stand going to church anymore , but this monastery is amazing ! Maybe I should become a monk . Do monks have iPhones ? Because if not , that would be too hard ... no , wait , on second
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