Computer users are familiar with the "Enter" key on their keyboard. In simple terms it could be said that it takes what we write on the screen into the "heart" on the computer. Something similar has to happen with our inner worlds. The lessons we learn, the ideas we read and the messages we receive have to be "entered" if they are to do us any good. And that, Gordon MacDonald says, takes place through the disciplines of reflection and meditation.
MacDonald considers the act of meditating to be "like tuning the spirit to heavenly frequencies. One takes a portion of Scripture and simply allows it to enter the deepest recesses of self" (p. 140). A little later he writes, "in meditation, we latch onto phrases from the prophets [or the Scriptures in general], perhaps memorizing small portions, and we allow the words to trickle down over the structures of our inner being as we repeat them over and over again. From such exercises come new and wonderful conclusions. The word of God is entering our private worlds. And because we have fixed our attention upon his word, we can be sure that the Holy Spirit will guide our meditations" (p. 141-2).
To my mind, these definitions betray the "quietist" tendencies that I spoke against last week. As I read them, I gain the impression that in meditation truth enters our inner worlds by a mysterious process of diffusion. One takes a portion of Scripture "and simply allows it to enter the deepest recesses of self." And again, the ideas and words we receive into our minds are said to "trickle down over the structures of our inner being" as we repeat them over and over again."
It is true that often something mysterious and surprising does happen when we reflect deeply upon ideas. This is particularly so when the Holy Spirit is at work writing God's truth upon our hearts. We cannot describe the logic and process of the experience exhaustively. One moment we are thinking, wrestling, questioning, and the next we seem to be apprehending truth with the eyes of the heart. There is something truly wonderful and inexplicable about that.
But I question that this profound experience is the result of simply allowing the truth to "enter the deepest recesses of self," or of "letting it trickle over the recesses of our inner being." This differs very little from the technique of the Eastern mystic that MacDonald wants to distance himself from (p. 140). It invites the mind to go to sleep.
Biblical meditation, on the other hand, calls for the mind to be active. It is a process of looking at an idea from different angles, of questioning it, of recalling associations and devising applications. These mental activities "open a truth up" as it were, and increase the points of contact the Spirit can use to bring light to our hearts. They do not produce the light, but they are usually the means the Spirit uses to give it.
So much for the matter of what meditation (and constructive reflection) involves. In clarifying definitions we mustn't lose sight of the essential point MacDonald makes - namely, that ideas ordinarily need digesting before they are assimilated. Or put another way, the Holy Spirit commonly uses the process of thoughtful reflection as the context for writing his word upon our hearts. And that, as Gordon MacDonald so correctly points out, makes meditation and reflection essential to a well-cultivated inner garden.