Perhaps being
raised for the first ten years of my life on a small farm in upper South
Carolina helped cause me to love quiet places.
I often feel a
twinge of guilt for seeking solitude and quiet escapes. I like the title of a book
published in 1874. That book is “Far from the Madding Crowd” by Thomas Hardy,
an English novelist and poet.
“Madding” means “Acting
in a frenzied manner —usually used in the phrase madding crowd to denote especially
the crowded world of human activity and strife.”
I
have, in error, sometimes referred to Hardy’s novel as “Far from the Maddening
Crowd.” “Maddening” means “irritating, vexing, tending to infuriate.”
Getting
away from folk can be an escape from duties, however. Much of human labor
involves working with people. Laying down one’s life for others often involves
taxing interaction with people.
Quiet
places offer harbors in which to rest and recuperate. Harbors are places where
battered ships – and depleted minds – can be restored and mended.
As
a child, I loved the stillness of evenings on the farm. I recall lying in a
grassy field near my family’s barn and looking at white clouds while I wondered
about God and his creation. I heard only the sounds of nature – no sounds of
motors, bustling shoppers or honking of horns.
Jesus
knew the value of quiet places. Recorded in Mark 6:31 are these words he spoke
to his disciples: “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some
rest.”
Shelia
Walsh, a Christian singer and author, said, “We can’t always withdraw to quiet
hillsides to pray, but Christ will meet with us in the quiet places of our
hearts.”
