Christians and other thought leaders have described meditation in numerous ways. Puritan Richard Baxter in The Saints’ Everlasting Rest called it “a directory for the getting and keeping of the heart in heaven.”1 Quaker D. Elton Trueblood sees meditation as “a sacramental view of life, an openness to continual revelation.”2 Jesuit Alfred Delp defined meditation as “a continuous Advent.”3 Author and theologian Richard J. Foster suggests “Christian meditation leads us into the inner wholeness necessary to give ourselves to God freely.” He views it as a preparation for the work of prayer and fundamentally a way of listening to God and communing with the Creator.4
In contrast to Eastern meditation, which seeks to empty the mind and merge with cosmic consciousness, Christian meditation seeks detachment from cultural confusion in order to have a deeper attachment to God. Christian meditation, therefore, is a potent remedy against the externalization of life. In meditation we do not think about the world or ourselves, but instead dwell on God and make resolutions that will draw us nearer to Him.
Meditation is a more advanced spiritual act than “saying prayers.” It actually may be likened to the attitude of a child who breaks into the presence of a mother, saying, “I’ll not say a word, if you will just let me stay here and watch you.” Meditation allows one to suspend the conscious fight against external diversions by an internal realization of the presence of God.
Alfred Delp was arrested by the Gestapo in 1944 when he joined a secret group called the Kreisau Circle. Expecting Hitler’s defeat, this group planned a new social order to be built along Christian lines after World War II. These “re-Christianizing intentions” were considered heresy. After a mock trial and a perfunctory sentencing, Delp was executed in Plötzensee Prison on February 2, 1945.
From the shadow of the scaffold, while awaiting the executioner’s certain but unscheduled arrival, Delp saw a world no longer capable of knowing God. “Drowned by the noises of everyday life, forbidden by restrictions, lost in the hurry of ‘progress,’ stifled by authority, misled by fear, the ordinary person’s ‘spiritual mechanism has rusted and become practically useless.’ Even the church was not spared from this critique, for he found himself surrounded by ‘mechanical believers’ who ‘believe’ in everything, in every ceremony, every ritual—but know nothing whatever about the living God.”5
We have been cautioned that “bustle and show” and the “busy activity in the mechanical part of even the work of God may so occupy the mind that prayer shall be neglected, and self-importance and self-sufficiency, so ready to urge their way,”6 take the place of meditation and prayer.
Meditation is a way of shutting out the world and letting in the Spirit. It eliminates from our lives the things that would hinder our union with God and strengthens our desire that all we do shall be done for His honor and glory. Meditation is not a petition or a way of using God or of asking things of Him, but rather a surrender, a plea to God that He use us.
Meditation has two stages: withdrawal from worldly consideration, and concentration on the nature of God and His incarnate Son, Jesus Christ. After all, asked Ellen White, “what is more worthy to engross the mind than the plan of redemption? . . . He who has centered his affections upon Christ will relish this kind of hallowed association and will gather divine strength by such intercourse.”7
Meditation uses our three powers: the memory, the intellect, and the will. By memory we recall His goodness and our blessings; with the intellect we recall what is known of His life, truth, and love; by the will we strive to love Him above all else. When we study, we know about God; when we meditate, we know God’s presence in ourselves. Then our personality becomes lost in God’s so that His mind is our mind, His desires are our desires, His loves are our loves. In the words of the apostle Paul: “It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” (Gal. 2:20).8
For meditation, the ear is more important than the tongue, because faith comes from listening (Rom. 10:17). Most of us commit the same mistake with God that we do with our friends: we do all the talking. Jesus warned against those who “use vain repetitions. . . . For they think that they will be heard for their many words” (Matt. 6:7).
One can be impolite to God, too, by absorbing all the conversation, and by changing the words of Scripture from “Speak, Lord, Thy servant hears” to “Listen, Lord, Thy servant speaks.” God has things to tell us that will enlighten us, and we must wait for Him to speak. When we complain that God does not hear our prayers, perhaps it’s because we didn’t wait to hear His answers.
Prayer, then, is not a monologue, but a dialogue. It’s not a one-way street, but a boulevard. As Isaiah the prophet said: “He awakens me morning by morning, He awakens my ear to hear as the learned” (Isa. 50:4). Paul says the Spirit will tell us what things we ought to pray and provide spiritual expression to the voiceless void of our hearts. Prayer is arduous when it’s only a monologue, but a joy when our self-absorption gives way to the act of humble listening.
The best exposition of the steps in meditation is found in the Gospel account of the Resurrection. The disciples on that day were most forlorn. In their sadness they fell into a discussion about Jesus with a traveler they had met by chance on the Emmaus road. This marks the first stage of meditation: they spoke about Jesus, not realizing He was present. This was followed by Jesus’ disclosure of His presence. We must listen, then, as the disciples did when He began to unfold to them the meaning of His passion and death. Finally, there comes a stage of communion, signified by the breaking of bread at supper described in the Gospel. At this point we are united to God, and God to us.
Does meditation have any practical effects on our spiritual lives? First, it cures us of the habit of self-deception. Meditation enables us to hold up the mirror to our souls and see ourselves as we really are—not as we like to think we are. The silence that meditation demands helps us to see our sins more clearly. It replaces the criticism of others by a self-criticism, which will make us less critical of others.
Meditation also improves our behavior. “Meditation upon holy things,” wrote Ellen White, “will elevate and refine the mind, and will develop Christian ladies and gentlemen.”9
If we meditate consistently on God, a complete revolution in our behavior takes place. If in a morning meditation we remember how God became a humble servant of humanity, we will not lord ourselves over others during the day. If there were a meditation on His redemption of all people, we would cease to be racists. If we dwell on the truth that Jesus took the world’s sins upon Himself, we will seek to take up the burdens of our neighbors even though they are not a part of our making, because the sins the Lord bore were not of His making. If meditation focuses on the merciful Savior who forgave those who crucified Him, so we will forgive those who injure us, so that we may receive forgiveness. If we meditate before we go to bed, our last thoughts at night will be our first thoughts in the morning. There will be no feelings of depression because we are facing what seems to be a meaningless day; instead will be the joy of beginning another day serving in Christ’s name.
Meditation also connects us with new sources of power and energy. “Meditate day and night upon
His character,” Ellen White admonished, then “you will . . . rejoice in His goodness. Your heart will glow with a sense of His love. You will be uplifted as if borne by everlasting arms. With the power and light that God imparts, you can comprehend more and accomplish more than you ever before deemed possible.”10
“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matt. 11:28), Jesus tells us. None of us has sufficient knowledge and power to carry us through all the difficulties and trials of living. The more an orchestra plays, the more frequently the instruments must be tuned; the farther an airplane flies, the more often it needs to be serviced. When our spiritual batteries run down, we cannot charge them by ourselves. The more active the life is, the greater the need to vitalize its acts by meditation.
Our time of meditation must be personalized. We cannot cling to unlawful attachments. “Blessed are the pure in heart,” Jesus said. Therefore, by God’s grace, we need purity of conscience, heart, mind, and action. Our helplessness must be rendered up to the power of God, so the Holy Spirit can change and transform us more fully into His likeness.
As the earth revolves around the sun, it carries with it its own atmosphere. So too can we can carry the atmosphere of God amid the world’s turbulent events. Little wonder Ellen White counseled, “We . . . must have times set apart for meditation and prayer and for receiving spiritual refreshing. . . . Prayer and faith will do what no power on earth can accomplish. We are seldom, in all respects, placed in the same position twice. We continually have new scenes and new trials to pass through, where past experience cannot be a sufficient guide. We must have the continual light that comes from God.”11
