My friend and boss, Ted, takes a day each month to think, plan, and pray. Since daily tasks never end, this kind of ​“big picture” time can’t be found; it has to be made. 

At his encouragement, I scheduled a few of these days for myself, one each month. I missed the one in November, then in December — the holidays, you know. January’s day came and I filled it with urgent tasks. If I stop, things will get off schedule. People will be disappointed.

My quest to find a mythical stopping place is a fool’s errand. It’s exhausting. Scripture promises a living hope in Christ (1 Peter 1), but it’s possible through reliance upon self to instead cultivate a living dread. 

Earlier this week, I finally took my scheduled day — time to read and walk and journal, time to think with God. I withdrew from the urgent to engage the important. It was a helicopter lift out of a dense jungle. It revealed the terrain, and what I saw sparked genuine, substantial hope. 

Sometimes we choose to withdraw to gain perspective. And sometimes withdrawing is imposed upon us.

During the pandemic, for example, most of us were forced to stop attending in-person worship gatherings. While this had obvious downsides, it also offered an opportunity for reflection. Some people noticed that not going to church didn’t make a tremendous difference in their lives. 

On the podcast this week, pastor and Renovaré Ministry Team member Kai Nilsen invites us not to fear the question, What is the point of church?—a question more people are asking after the pandemic. Instead, let’s use the time spent away from corporate worship to rediscover with God and in Scripture the reasons why we gather. 

This theme of withdrawing for perspective connects to the season of Lent that began on Wednesday. Lent offers an invitation to make space and release, not to prove anything to God or ourselves but — like Jesus in the wilderness — as a way to see and surrender. We withdraw with God to be given the grace to engage again with hope instead of dread.