A couple of friends Mike and Matt ignited in a handful of guys an appetite for adopting solitude and silence. We found these to be treasured elements in our apprenticing pilgrimage. We have since gleaned meaningful dividends from going with the disciplines. Like, enjoying a quieter interior within.
Over time, I found that unsettling episodes of anxiety and impatience, especially related to abruptly changing circumstances or – I confess – when encountering abrasive individuals, have been growing less frequent. Less intense.
The human machine is designed to function more smoothly than is commonly seen. Our maker did not fashion our souls to be spurting, belching, jerking specimens resembling a junky car running on poor fuel and even poorer spark plugs. Our hearts, and even our bodies, are meant to display overall the kind of serenity that marked Jesus in his own very human existence on earth.
Mike and Matt, youngish husbands and fathers (active men in the mainstream of workaday living) had each been incorporating the practices of solitude and silence into their weekly routines. A time came when the friends welcomed a few other guys into a kind of experiment.
A sunny, weather-friendly day with only a slight chill in the air found eight or ten of us gathered at an acreage marked by trees, some patches of grassland and a sizable pond. Our two hosts beckoned arrivals toward a freshly-stoked campfire.
“Hey guys”, Mike began, “here’s the plan. We branch out from here, each man heading to a place where you won’t be interrupted. Gather back here in a couple hours. Take the stuff you brought with you.”
The stuff brought was 1. A camping chair, 2. A Bible, 3. Something to write on and 4. A bottle of water, optional.
The experiment worked.
– ©2026 Jerry Lout Jerry Lout was raised in Okmulgee County. His two memoirs, “Living with a Limp” and “Giants in the Rough,” highlight the dual encounters with Polio and his decades living and working in East Africa. jerrylout@gmail.com, 918-857-4373
