A Case for Contemplation (& Boredom)
I remember growing up and not having much to do besides creative play. Until I was five, we lived on a farm, just renting the farmhouse, but I spent plenty of time outside with my sisters. We climbed hay bales, ran through the yard, and even chased cows away just so we could explore their pasture and see what we might find. When we moved from Ohio to Virginia, life shifted from country quiet to a busier suburban pace. But behind our neighborhood was a wide field with a creek, and if you followed it far enough, you’d find a playground. We were constantly outside; exploring, climbing trees, jumping off garage roofs, riding bikes. And we did it all without much parental oversight, I might add.
I’m an older millennial. I remember when we got our first desktop computer and when the internet first came into our home. My first console was the NES. I made mixtapes, burned CDs, and spent time on Xanga, AIM, and Myspace. High school was spent playing in bands with friends and attending all the local shows in Tuscarawas County. I didn’t get a cellphone until my junior year of college. And yet, I’m grateful for the way I grew up because I was forced to face my boredom. Now, I have to actively resist the urge to reach for the small computer in my pocket at any moment. And more often than I’d like to admit, I lose that battle. In doing so, I trade away something I didn’t realize was a gift: boredom that leads to connection, presence, and even communion with God.
Contemplation can be defined as looking thoughtfully at something for a long time. In the Christian life, it often refers to quietly sitting with and attending to the presence of God. We live in an age that is distracted, divided, and anxious; this hardly needs proving. Unless we intentionally create rhythms of rest, solitude, and silence, we will be shaped by that anxiety. Contemplation has been a consistent thread throughout church history, whether or not it was always labeled as such. There’s a reason practices like spiritual direction and contemplative prayer are not only still around, but experiencing something of a resurgence. They create space for us to notice, receive, and respond to the love of God.
We see this clearly in the life of Jesus. He regularly withdrew from the crowds, even from His closest disciples, to be alone with His Father. And in His interactions with others, He often guided not just through instruction, but through questions, inviting deeper reflection and participation in their own formation as a spiritual director would.
The question is, can and should we embrace the kind of lifestyle that Jesus modeled to us within our own context?
If we are able to live that way, can we afford not to?
Instead of focusing on what you may be giving up to embrace a more contemplative lifestyle, consider what you are giving up in avoiding it.
How valuable are the gifts of presence, peace, connection, and boredom, especially in an age consistently known for frantic busyness, isolation, distraction and hurry?
