At Applebees Sunday night, after the Sunday Gathering of Jacob’s Well, we were talking about church retreats and that sort of thing, and I realized that I think I have had a wrong view of retreats.

Let me explain.  During the past view years, I’ve seen church retreats as American Christianity’s attempt to again, try and create some “instant” way of doing something.

Marriage difficulties? Let’s have a marriage retreat! Instant fix!

Financial difficulties? Let’s have a weekend retreat on finances! Instant fix!

Pornography struggle? Let’s have a men’s retreat! Instant fix!

Or… even American Christianity’s obsessional focus with instant conversion. “If you say the sinner’s prayer right now…” (In Scripture, conversion appears as both “instant out-of-the- blue” and process. It’s not either/or, it’s both. So let’s realize this and give them a balanced view. Remember, the point is not conversion anyways, but discipleship.)

American Christianity (and America in general) seems to have an addiction with instant. (Starbucks just introduced instant coffee. Starbucks… really? Now it is as good an instant coffee gets, but you get my point.)

So this has been my bias with retreats… but I missed something. Something BIG.

I just finished reading Don Miller’s new book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. I think I’ll read it again. It’s always a bummer when you wait years for your favorite author to come out with his new book, and then you read it in a week and have to wait a few more years! Ha!

In this book, Don Miller explores how you often have to have a shared adventure with other people to really bond. He uses several stories to get his point across, but if you think about it, you will find this as a universal reality of the universe. I am closer to those I do incredible things with. I am also closer to those who have walked alongside me during a painful time, or vice-versa. You are closer to those you share an adventure with.

And I forgot about the connections and bonding that happens at retreats. Just think about the last bonfire you went to. Tell me you didn’t feel closer to those around you as you stared into the fire, sat close to stay warm, and talked interchangelably about the most important realities of life and the stupid thing your dog did two days ago.

I forgot about the adventure shared through the common experience. All this time, I have had this bias against church retreats because of my bias against “instant American Christianity” but have forgotten that is probably not even the main reason for retreats in the first place. I bet retreats often just serve as an excuse to get away.

And I’ve also been thinking about the art of getting away. And it is an art, because it’s hard to get away.  We think that the world will stop functioning if we leave for 2 weeks and our jobs have to go on without us.

But the art of getting away – of retreat – is an art I want to relearn over the next week and a half here in Georgia.

Sometimes it takes being removed from the routine to have a chance to refuel and reconnect with God.

(It’s interesting that even in the midst of being removed from the routine, the allure of our vices still beckons us back and makes promises that can’t deliver at home and won’t deliver away either.) But I want this time to be a time where I look to find refreshment and refueling from God. To remember how He sees me because of what His Son Jesus has done. To remember my identity in Him.