Jesus withdrew to places where people were not, in order to be alone with God. I don’t know how often you have tried? It’s extremely difficult to do without distraction. In my experience, even when I find a quiet environment, a quiet place, often it’s still too noisy to be truly connected to God, to commune, without distraction. If I try to sit, stand or walk quietly and peacefully, I find myself continually interrupted by distraction.

Interestingly, I’ve found that most often the greatest distraction is myself. The noise that would continually break the tranquility and peace comes from within me, not from outside around me. Thoughts and feelings that distract my peace and focus; not wrong thoughts or feelings, just an internal busyness that is difficult to settle and quieten down. It seems the occasions when Jesus withdrew to “a desolate place by himself” were not unusual.

Solitude – aloneness with the Lord – is something that sounds very straight forward, and yet my experience tells me that making time for being in solitude with God is so often neglected and displaced by our well-meaning doing for God. In this busy life, it’s easy to allow busyness and noise to displace solitude and quiet – to allow our doing for God to displace our being with God.

I have learned that solitude takes practice and discipline. I’ve tried in the past and failed – continually. But I’ll keep trying again, and again – that’s what practice and discipline is.

Solitude is a good friend of Prayer; they enjoy one another’s company. If you’re struggling in becoming acquainted with Prayer, perhaps first go and try to strike up a familiar friendship with Solitude. With Solitude and Prayer as friends, you’ll soon find that you’ll know Intimacy. And where Solitude, Prayer and Intimacy are together, you’ll often find Rest too.

Be still and know.

I bottomed out again this morning. Having woken before six, I lay there quietly, and my mind began to wind up. I put my earphones in, and tried to distract myself. My wife lay asleep next to me; I was wide-awake listening to a podcast, listening to music, and reading a little. I was telling myself that, in a short while, I needed to get up and go out. I had a conference to get to.

Motionless, and vacant, I lay there in my bed. With little warning, I felt the emotion beginning to well up. It took me by surprise; I was caught unawares. I was holding it off, but a few tears made their way through. I closed my eyes in an effort to stave off any more. I had to hold it together. I had a conference to get to.

With my eyes closed, my eyelids began to strain to contain. They had become uncomfortably pregnant, but I held on for as long as I could. Then, they broke through. I lay there in bed quietly. The tears rolled down my cheeks, then down into the crease of my neck. The tears would show on my cheeks, so I rolled onto my side so that my pillow would absorb those few escapees. I needed to dry my eyes and pull myself together. I had a conference to get to.

My wife got up; unaware of the silent battle I fought as I lay next to her. The girls had stayed at my mums overnight, so the house was quiet. I could hear my wife busily getting ready to go. I knew the moment would come when I was told I must get up. I didn’t want that moment to come because I knew I would have to speak. I would have to speak, and then I would have to get up. I had a conference to get to.

My friend Andy was speaking at the conference this morning. I didn’t have long to pull it together, and I needed to be there to support him. He loves this conference each year. For Andy, this conference is one of the highlights of the church calendar. It mattered to him. What would it say to him if I were not there? What would it say to others? I needed to get up for Andy. I had a conference to get to.

I know my wife wants me to go to this conference with her. I certainly wanted to spend the day with her. Like Andy, she enjoys this conference each year. How would she feel if I didn’t get up soon? What would it say to her? Would she be hurt or troubled if I didn’t get up? Would she think I was being lazy? I needed to get up for her. I needed to get up and get ready. I had a conference to get to.

Am I selfish? I feel helplessly and hopelessly selfish. I know I need to get up. There is an expectation that I will be at the conference. I had a ticket arranged. I had been catered for. Why didn’t I just do it then? There is nothing physically wrong with my body. I am quite capable of getting up. “Just pull yourself together and get up,” I say to myself, “you’ve got a conference to get to.”

Then comes the call from my wife. I’ve got to get up now, and if I don’t get up, I’ve got to explain why I’m not getting up. I can’t do either, but there isn’t a ‘neither’ option. I can’t get up and I can’t explain why I can’t get up. I can’t say that I’m upset, because I’m not upset either. No, I’m not upset. I’m battling burnout. Again.

I’ve bottomed out. Again.

What do I do about this quiet battle? Do I share it? How do I let people know that I’m not trying to be selfish? How do I let them know I am fighting? I’m not laying here resting. I don’t rest easily. I don’t know what ‘OFF’ feels like. I’m well acquainted with ‘ON’; I’m familiar with ‘STANDBY’. But I want to experience ‘OFF’. No, I’m not laying here resting; I’m laying here fighting with myself. I need to win the fight. I’ve got a conference to get to.

“Where were you?” those who notice I wasn’t there will ask me. What will I say to them? My wife is telling me now: “You need to get up.” I know she’s right; I need to get up. But I can’t face being in company; neither can I face being alone. I don’t want to draw from anyone; neither do I want to be drawn from. I don’t want to speak; neither do I want anyone to speak to me. I need to stop thinking; I need to stop asking questions. I’ve got a conference to get to.

How can I be honest about my battle without breaking down? And who really needs to know about my battle anyway? How much is it helpful for people to know? Does it matter what anyone thinks? Is it ever possible for a leader to show such weakness and still be recognised as a leader? Is it even a weakness? Is it an illness? I don’t know what it is. If people know, they might ask me “How are you?” What will I say? I’m doing it again. I need to stop thinking; I need to stop asking questions. I’ve got a conference to get to.

Can church leaders be this honest about their personal struggles without compromising their position as servant leaders? Is it helpful? Who is it helpful for? I’m asking myself the same questions all over again. Is it just self-soothing to record this experience and struggle? Or, by being vulnerable, by sharing it, will those who fight the same battle take some strength from knowing that I struggle with the same? Could it be destructive to share? If I share my battle, it might help some people to understand that I’m not just grumpy, or apathetic, or moody, or quiet. Or will it? I can be grumpy, apathetic, moody and quiet sometimes, but that’s not my struggle today. Burnout is my struggle. Struggle or not, I need to get up. Life goes on. I’ve got a conference to get to.

Some people know my battle, but not many people. It’s been kept pretty much under wraps. I feel some pressure to stay quiet. I am entrusted, as an Elder, to shepherd God’s people, yet sometimes I fight to shepherd myself. Will it burden people if they know my struggle? Or in some strange way, does it free people to be honest about their own struggles? Am I overestimating the significance or importance of this? Will my honesty necessarily result in my disqualification from leadership? This battle is the reason that my fellow Elders have graciously released me from eldership responsibilities and given me the space to fight without having to also carry responsibility for leading anyone but myself.

I’ve written several blogs over the past two years, but I’ve never published them. What holds me back? I’m pretty sure it’s fear. It might be wisdom, but it’s probably fear. So, I’ll throw caution to the wind and publish this one. Maybe I’ll blog about fear sometime soon, but for now, I’ve got a conference to get to.