embracing boredom for lent
learning to find monotony delightful with Jesus
I hate being bored. There is nothing my mind abhors more than a vacuum, that empty space where it has nothing to tackle, solve, ponder or create. If something doesn’t have stakes attached or isn’t sufficiently challenging to me, I do what it takes to escape.
Too often, that means turning to my phone.
I listen to podcasts, play word games, or scroll the news. I may have sent my iPhone to Kansas, but if it’s a choice between standing aimlessly in line and looking down at that little black and white screen, guess which one wins?
boredom is good for you (and others)
As we become an increasingly distracted people, more and more research is being done to demonstrate the benefits of boredom. A recent article in the Harvard Business Review states, “A sense of boredom can create the space to daydream, which can hatch creativity, new ideas, and innovation.”
In fact, Cal Newport, in his book Digital Minimalism, claims that boredom may have “saved the nation.”1 He tells the story of Abraham Lincoln spending extended time in a small cottage in what was then the countryside outside Washington, D.C.
At the height of the Civil War, in 1862-4, Lincoln would spend all summer and early fall living at this secluded cottage alone and away from the bustle of the White House. He would commute in each day on horseback, and retreat to the cottage where he enjoyed the space to simply be and think.
It was there that he formed the ideas that led to the Gettysburg Address. This little secluded cottage—where there was nothing to do but think and walk the grounds and write—is where he penned the Emancipation Proclamation.
Had it not been for Abe Lincoln’s quest for boredom—away from the distractions and busyness of a wartime White House—the US may have been deprived of the moral purpose of the bloodiest war in our nation’s history.
embracing boredom for lent
In this first week of Lent, our family has spent more time than usual discussing spiritual discipline. I’ve done my normal things—abstaining from alcohol, fasting from food at certain times—but the increased focus in my household has led me to question my abhorrence of boredom. I’ve begun adding things to the list for the season.
No basketball podcasts (I know. It’s dumb. But I love basketball podcasts.)
Cutting out snacking.
Removing email from my phone.
These aren’t legalistic attempts to earn something from God. And I definitely don’t share them to get a craved-for pat on the back. (Heaven forbid!) I’ve just begun to notice that, as space opens up in my mind and heart, I’ve been distracting myself from things that need attention.
And beneath that distraction, on the other side of my hatred of boredom, is a loving God who desires to draw me deeper into fellowship with Him.
Emptying my headspace of things that distract me has become, not a religious exercise in self-congratulation, but a delightful delving into divine love.
you can’t optimize love
In our brokenness, we hate monotony. We hate boredom. It’s what makes the grind of work and the tedium of home life so unpleasant to us.
But refusing the monotony of life in this world is the same thing as refusing to love. Love requires a tenacious commitment to the mundane: to the simplicity of presence; significant time invested in listening and sharing; following through on promises made; showing up when the beloved is in need.
You can’t optimize love. You can’t render it more efficient. It requires the hard work of day in day out self-giving and sacrifice. Loving well requires that we submit ourselves to the process. Loving well means letting ourselves be bored sometimes.
A life lived close to Jesus is a life of discipleship in the ways of love. When things got hectic in His ministry, Jesus invited the disciples to withdraw into something like boredom:
“And he said to them, ‘Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.’ For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat.” (Mark 6:31)
Learning to love requires training, a discipleship in boredom, submitting to the mundane for the sake of the beloved.
Eugene Peterson wrote, “The mark of a certain kind of genius is the ability and energy to keep returning to the same task relentlessly, imaginatively, curiously, for a lifetime.”2 Let the season of Lent train you in the genius of Jesus. Let the negative space that boredom represents shape your desires to become the sort of person who is able to see yourself, see others, and see the ways in which the Spirit would invite you to give yourself for their good… and ultimately, for your joy.
Cal Newport, Digital Minimalism, 85-91.
But Connections is so fun!!! 😂