Journal Time

with Ray Waddle

The first thing you notice at Penuel Ridge Retreat Center, situated in rural Cheatham County near Nashville, Tenn., is what you don’t hear — the noise of the interstate. Bird-talk and breezes in the branches are what you get instead.

In the city, of course, the low roar of superhighway traffic supplies the day’s constant background, the anxious soundtrack of the economy, the asphalt scream of speed, consumption and desire. Out here, on 120 acres of trails and ridges, the interstate moan gives way to something startling — your own thoughts, fears, hopes and resolve, all getting a chance to find the light in wilderness silence.

Penuel Ridge, 20 years old now, is an interfaith place shaped around biblical values and images. What values? Two come to mind — stillness and justice. Psalm 46 says, “God is our refuge and strength ... Be still and know that I am God.” The Book of Micah says, “And what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” And Jesus says, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”

Out here, those ideas visit you, surround you. The walking trails, the little hermitage huts built for solitude, the main-house library of books on spirituality and biblical ethics — all pose an unflinching dissent against the hysterics of 24-hour media, the culture of buzz, the industry of war, the arrogant selfpity of terrorism.

Bring a Bible with you, if you dare. The Bible is hazardous to read in such a quiet outdoor place of no distractions, no halftime scores, no internet misinformation. Clarity of purpose might confront you instead. Psalm 146 says, “The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down; the Lord loves the righteous. The Lord watches over the strangers; he upholds the orphan and the widow, but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin.”

Such passages — there are many others — supply the churches with an emphatic mission statement, a political mandate for the real world.Churches know that. They read the Bible publicly in services every Sunday morning.

But the times are bizarre for relations between church and the world these days. Churches face a bewildering scene. In my own lifetime, consumerism has intensified, mutated, swelled to imperial status. By now it imposes an aggressive new sensibility upon politics and civic spirit. Reward goes to the fast, the furious, the fake. We want our entertainments instantly and loud, while churches preach quiet prayers, humility, sacrifice.

Our contradictions are embarrassing — an era of cheap goods and out-ofcontrol CEO salaries, celebrity worship and low self-esteem, anorexia and obesity, health obsessions and environmental poisoning, all at once. Images and ideals, like cereals and cigarets, become flashy consumable products promoted, neutered, then overwhelmed in the media stream.

“Revolution” is a word on a highpriced t-shirt. “Christian” is code for Republican. Every new Hummer on the road reinforces the illusion that the world’s dwindling oil supply is limitless and belongs to the USA. Cartoonish talk show personalities and op-ed columnists reduce the politics of left and right to school-yard slogans. They make a good living feeding the face of resentment, polarization and paranoia.

Into this hyperventilating climate the church must speak its word. It does so without regard for the prevailing marketing advice. It resists sound bites and in-your-face on-camera attitude. The church isn’t listed in the Fortune 500. It doesn’t move product in the usual sense. It has a story to tell, not sell, a gospel story that explains our heart’s anxieties and dreams.

Our corporate consumer masters would have us believe two things:

1. If it’s not new, it’s no good and we’re no good.

2. Life is too stressed and busy and complicated to find peace either within ourselves or in the world.

Out here, birds and wind in the trees and prayer in the rustic hay-bale chapel contradict the nihilistic dogmas of culture. Out here, a different message comes through: The story of salvation, from Genesis to Revelation, can be pondered in the unrushed world of nature, the original venue of human life’s divine encounter. A recognition comes, a flash of trust and homecoming: God created the earth, God has messages for us, and they are not as complicated as advertised ... Honor the Almighty, trust the universe, love neighbor and stranger.

Sometimes it takes a quiet stroll in the middle of nowhere, or on a rugged ridge trail on a winter day in Middle Tennessee, to hear the voice of wisdom and renew strength for journeying back again into the jostling world of decision, action and purpose.

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Ray Waddle, author of A Turbulent Peace, The Psalms for Our Time, is a writer in Nashville and a board member of Penuel Ridge Contemplative Retreat Center. To reserve time or inquire about a day-long retreat or overnight stay at Penuel Ridge, call 615-792-3734.