The Life-Giving Art of Contemplation

A couple of years ago, I engaged in a silent retreat at a monastery in Big Sur, California, high above the Pacific Ocean, but with an incredible view of the vast expanse of water (and clouds) below. 

There was no internet for the participants, and absolutely no cell service was available.  I had a small casita with a kitchen, bed, and bathroom, and a wonderful porch where I enjoyed some amazing sunsets. 

It took me all of one day to feel like I was going to lose my mind.  

I ate alone. Attended prayer services twice a day in silence.  Walked the property alone and in silence, and spent my evenings alone, in silence, and (at first) anxious as hell. 

It took me two full days to start to detox from always being connected through my phone and computer. Then something shifted. 

I began my day in prayer and journaling, ate my meals outside while contemplating the beauty around me, walked in the forests, read voraciously, worshipped, and wrote in the evenings with my window open and the cool Pacific breeze blowing on my face.  

And the whole time, I kept asking myself, "Do you really think you can still engage in a life of contemplation when you get back to the real world?"  

The answer to that question was not exactly as it turned out.  But there was another question beneath the first one: What is the "real" world?  

I'm beginning to learn that the "real" world is just on the other side of the ones that we create.  It's like there's a barrier between them, but it's one that we've erected to retain control, which is a fool's errand.  

Richard Rohr once wrote: 

"We have to find a place where we can receive all of our experiences without repressing anything. We need a place where we can consider all that we’ve done –and not done–in our life, a place that’s bigger than Yes and No, a place bigger than the judgements we pass. At this all embracing place God becomes quite clear. Here there is room for every part of you and for God’s presence…"

Contemplation is such a place, a world of its own. It is not about emptying our minds, nor is it about escaping reality. Rather, it is about sitting still long enough to truly see reality as it is—without filters, excuses, or denials. 

In this sacred stillness, we learn to hold both our successes and failures, our joys and our wounds, our hopes and regrets, in God’s merciful light.

The psalmist echoes this when they write, “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). Stillness is not passivity; it is the courageous act of facing life honestly. 

Contemplation opens us to God’s presence in ways that our hurried thoughts and constant striving never can. It reveals that we are not defined by our mistakes or even by our triumphs—we are defined by God’s love.

Jesus himself often withdrew to lonely places to pray (Luke 5:16). These were not moments of productivity or performance, but times when he entered into the deep communion of the Father’s presence. 

If Christ, in the midst of healing, teaching, and leading, found it necessary to pause for silence and prayer, how much more do we?

In contemplation, we find that God is not a distant judge but an intimate companion who dwells in every moment. As Rohr suggests, it is a place “bigger than the judgments we pass.” 

This is grace at work—the assurance that there is room for every part of us, and that God’s presence is not withdrawn from our weakness but revealed in it.

Set aside moments each day for contemplation. Whether through prayer, journaling, meditation, or simple solitude, allow yourself to rest in God’s presence. Over time, you may discover that this practice not only changes how you see God, but also how you see yourself and the world.

Prayer:

Loving God, teach me to be still in your presence. Help me to welcome every part of my life before you—without fear, without hiding. May your Spirit shape me in the silence and reveal the depth of your love. Amen.

Reflection Questions:

1. When was the last time you allowed yourself to sit in silence before God without agenda?

2. What parts of your life do you find most difficult to bring into God’s presence?

3. How might daily contemplation change the way you view yourself and others?