Dr Paul Allen

Of late, I’ve noticed I’ve been getting worse at being alone. That sanctuary of solitude with God, a place where hours could pass unnoticed, has fallen victim to a life filled with activity. “Quiet times” have become harder to bear. Money-changers now sit in my house of prayer, noisily selling pigeons and livestock. And what is worse, I invited them in. But why? “That sanctuary of solitude with God, a place where hours could pass unnoticed, has fallen victim to a life filled with noise.” Blaise Pascal explains well enough why the unredeemed world hates silence. “Diversion. Being unable to cure death, wretchedness, and ignorance, men have decided, in order to be happy, not to think about such things” (Christianity for Modern Pagans, 170). Pascal sees men without God fleeing their Creator, and themselves, at every turn. This world swirls with hustle and bustle, men busily chase what they don’t want because fallen humanity will not — cannot — endure the frowning thoughts that meet them in

Communion with God in Scripture is one of the great distinguishing marks of a Christian, an acid test of true spiritual life. Whatever else we are as believers, we are people who meet God in the Bible. To be sure, we see shadows of God in other places: His glory glows in His creation ( Ps. 19:1 ), confronting us everywhere, from the golden immensity of a galaxy to the wondrous intricacy of a cell. His moral perfection unhinges us with the thunderous whisper of an offended conscience. But these shadowy pictures are just that—all picture and no sound. “There is no speech,” the psalmist says, “nor are there words, whose voice is not heard” ( Ps. 19:3 ). There is enough in nature to leave us without excuse ( Rom. 1 :18ff), but there is not enough to renew us deep within. This peculiar glory belongs to Scripture alone ( Ps. 19:7 ). We may see His glory elsewhere, but only in Scripture do we hear His voice. How should we then approach the Bible? 1. Come fearfully . God is in this book.

Private devotions aren’t magic. We know that (for the most part). But still, we can be tempted to think that if we just figure out the secret formula — the right mixture of Bible meditation and prayer — we will experience euphoric moments of rapturous communion with the Lord. And if that doesn’t happen, our formula must be wrong. The danger of this misconception is that it can produce chronic disappointment and discouragement. Cynicism sets in and we give up or whip through them to alleviate guilt because devotions don’t seem to work for us. Our longing for intimate communion with God is God-given. It’s a good thing to desire, ask for, and pursue. The Spirit does give us wonderful, occasional tastes. And this longing will be satisfied to overflowing someday ( Psalm 16:11 ). But God has other purposes for us in the discipline of daily Bible meditation and prayer. Here are a few: Soul Exercise ( 1 Corinthians 9:24 ; Romans 15:4 ): We exercise our bodies to increase strength and end

Imagine walking up a mountain alone. But it’s no ordinary mountain. The ground beneath you is shaking, and the entire mountain is covered in smoke. At its peak is a thick cloud with lightning and thunder. God descends onto the mountain in fire, and each time you speak to him, he responds in thunder. This is what Moses experienced in Exodus 19. Now compare that experience to your last time in prayer. Distracted, obligatory, ordinary — I doubt any such words came across Moses’s mind as he ascended the mountain. But some three thousand years later, we rarely marvel that God permits imperfect humans into his presence. How did the shocking become so ordinary to us? Is it even possible for our experiences with God to be thatfascinating? Going Up the Mountain A mentor of mine lives in India. Last year, he called me on the phone crying, distraught over the state of the church in America. “It seems like the people in America would be content to take a selfie with Moses. Don’t they know t