A couple of years ago I went on a 24-hour prayer retreat. This was a time of relative silence, with no Internet, no computer, no cell phone, and no television; there would be no technology to distract me. I did take a couple of books to read, my Bible, my journal, and the expectation it would be an epic spiritual adventure. It was.
I walked and prayed and rested and read…and I journaled. Boy, did I journal? Some of it was between God and me, but most was to share. So when I returned (to coin a word, I “untreated”) I transcribed pages of handwritten entries. It took hours.
Recently I went on another retreat. I went to the same place and left behind the same technologies—except for my laptop. If God prompted me to write, I wanted to be ready. He did—and I was.
Boy, did I write? And as I did it became a most spiritual experience, even though much of what I was writing was not overtly spiritual. I was creating and the creator was pleased.
That’s when I realized writing is a spiritual experience for me, but I had to go on a retreat to see it.