Leadership Journal

Ministry must be done in a rhythm of engagement and withdrawal. Wise followers of Christ have always understood solitude to be the foundational practice. Jesus engaged in it frequently. But what makes it so important? Solitude is the one place where we gain freedom from the forces of society that otherwise relentlessly mold us. It is (in one old phrase) the "furnace of transformation."

Dallas Willard noted an experiment done with mice a few years ago. A researcher found that when amphetamines are given to a mouse in solitude, it takes a high dosage to kill it. Give it to a group of mice, and they start hopping around and hyping each other up so much that a fraction of the dosage will be lethal—so great is the effect of "the world" on mice. In fact, a mouse given no amphetamines at all, placed in a group on the drug, will get so hyper that in 10 minutes or so it will be dead. "In groups," Willard noted, "they go off like popcorn."

You'd think only mice would be so foolish as to hang out with other mice that are so hopped up, so frantically pursuing mindless activity for no discernible purpose that they put their own lives at risk.

Some people ask, "What do I do when I practice solitude? What should I bring with me? The primary answer, of course, is "Nothing."

Not long ago, a man told me about preparing for his first extended period of solitude: he brought books, message tapes, CDs, and a VCR. Those are the very things you go into solitude to get away from.

At its heart, solitude is primarily about not doing something. Just as fasting means to refrain from eating, so solitude means to refrain from society. When I go into solitude, I withdraw from conversation, from others, from noise, from media, from the constant barrage of stimulation.

"In solitude," Henri Nouwen wrote, "I get rid of my scaffolding." Scaffolding is all the stuff I use to keep myself propped up, to convince myself I'm important or okay. In solitude I have no friends to talk with, no phone calls or meetings, no TV to entertain, no music or books or newspapers to occupy and distract my mind. I am, in the words of the old hymn, "Just as I Am": not my accomplishments or resume or possessions or networks—just me and my sinfulness, and God.

Solitude requires relentless perseverance. Unless I pull my calendar out and write down well in advance when I am committed to times of solitude, it won't happen.

I think about solitude in two categories: I need brief periods of solitude on a regular basis—preferably each day, even at intervals during the day. But I also need extended periods of solitude—a half day, a day, or a few days—and this is possible only at greater intervals. Frances de Sales, author of the classic An Introduction to the Devout Life, used the image of a clock:

"There is no clock, no matter how good it may be, that doesn't need resetting and rewinding twice a day, once in the morning and once in the evening. In ...