This week, I caught myself doing something I didn’t intend.

On my Sabbath morning, the first thing I did was pick up my phone—not just to turn off the alarm, but to scroll through News alerts.

It was automatic. Almost mindless.

But then I stopped.

I realized what was happening—distraction had slipped in without warning.
And it struck me as deeply ironic…
It was during the Practice of Solitude.

Sabbath is supposed to be a day of rest, a space for quiet and presence with God.
But instead, I was letting my mind be filled with the noise of the world before I even spoke with the Lord.

This is a reminder of how subtle distractions can be, even in our holiest moments.
Solitude isn’t just about being alone—it’s about being attentive to God.

So, next Sabbath, I’ll start differently.
I’ll start in silence, with Scripture or a simple prayer, rather than scrolling through a digital feed.

Because true Solitude is about quieting the noise—both around you and within you.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I genuinely find delight in Solitude.
And my prayer is that everyone would experience that same delight.

This week, Solitude was a reminder of just how big and creative our God is.

Rather than my usual Sabbath morning rhythm, I found myself being led in a different direction—God began prompting me with administrative details for Formation—specific activities, dates, and plans.

At first, I wondered if this was a distraction.
But then it hit me—I was trying to put God into my own container of Solitude.
I had an idea of what “Solitude with God” should look like.

But God had other plans.

Because God will show up however He chooses to show up.

Solitude isn’t about my expectations.
It’s about making space for God’s presence—however He chooses to fill that space.

Sometimes that means quiet reflection.
Sometimes it means a new revelation, a fresh perspective, or a practical insight.
But always—it means encountering the living God.

This week, even as I “green lettered” the Gospel of John, I didn’t receive any major revelations or overwhelming insights.

Just a quiet, gentle voice:

“Rest.”

No flood of words—just a deep, steady sense of clarity and grace washing over me.

And in that stillness, I felt a profound love and blessing.

Sometimes, the greatest encounter with God isn’t in the thunder or the whirlwind—
It’s simply in knowing He is there.

And, that was enough.