Sorry, Jesus, could you speak up?

... I can't hear you over the worship music.

When I read the solitude chapter, I was most impacted by Foster's comparison of silence and solitude. I would definitely classify myself as an introvert, so I had always thought that silence "shouldn't" be a problem for me - except it totally is. I don't know how to be alone nor do I know how to be with people, because I don't know how to be in solitude with my Father.

"... we do not fear being alone, for we know that we are not alone. Neither do we fear being with others, for they do not control us." (p. 96)

When I set about practicing solitude on Friday, it became so apparent so quickly how often I fill the silence in my heart with music. I love music, and I feel so blessed that God has gifted me with that part of my life, especially as a way to praise Him and spend some really intimate time with Him - but I have to keep reminding myself that it is NOT a God substitute. 

"Every distraction of the body, mind, and spirit must be put into a kind of suspended animation before this deep work of God upon the soul can occur." (p. 103)

So basically my problem is that my solitude isn't restful because I'm afraid of true solitude. (And then, as a consequence, my time of fellowship isn't restful either.)

I'm afraid to slow down, because I'm afraid of what I might discover. I'm afraid to listen because I'm afraid of what I might hear. I'm afraid to be alone because everything about my self-worth is defined in terms of the people around me.

But the really cool miracle I'm realizing is that these fears aren't grounded in any reality at all. When I actually slow down, all I discover is my belovedness. When I actually listen, I only hear the voice of the Spirit. And when I'm alone, I'm in the best company imaginable.