Three Miles From The Coffee:
A Study In Intimacy With God

How is it that we cultivate intimacy with God for a lifetime? What are the practical considerations for a busy pastor?

By Richard L. Dresselhaus

Maxie Dunnam, in Alive in Christ, tells the story of a cowboy who was camping out on the prairie. When it was time to cook breakfast, he decided to light the grass and hold his skillet over the flame. But the wind came up, so he kept moving his skillet to keep it over the flame. All seemed to be going well, but when his eggs were cooked, he was three miles from his coffee.

That’s it exactly. We keep moving with the winds of duty and accommodation until suddenly we realize we have been disconnected from our beginning commitment — to know God intimately.

The pastors in a neighboring section asked me to respond to 10 questions. One question was: Do you have any regrets after more than 40 years of pastoral ministry? My answer: I would have cultivated a more intimate relationship with God.

Yes, I have had an intimate relationship with God straight from the beginning. Bible school set that in place. But the demands of ministry have moved the skillet along until now “I’m three miles from the coffee.” That early resolution has never diminished, but I’ve yielded too much to the winds of duty and accommodation. I doubt I’m alone.

One seasoned pastor put it bluntly: “I am no longer pastoring. Now I can get on with being a Christian.” That’s a terrible admission. Yet, in all candor, there is a warning here: Never allow the pressures of ministry to move us away from the critical mission of our lives — to know God intimately.

My heart resonates with the words of author Joy Dawson in Intimate Fellowship With God: “To have a nodding acquaintance with the Creator of the universe is no small thought. But to be on intimate terms with Him is enough to give us heart flutter for the rest of our lives.”

That is it precisely. I have tasted, and it is true. Intimacy with God must remain the joy and delight of the pastor’s heart.

Intimacy And Journey — It’s Defined As A Lifelong Commitment

Bishop Theophan, a 19th-century mystic, said the principle thing is to “stand before God with the mind in the heart; and to go on standing before him unceasingly day and night until the end of life.”1

The Puritan, Thomas Goodwin, argued that our “fallen nature is actually allergic to God and never wants to get too close to him.”2

But Henri Nouwen, in The Genesee Diary, makes the point for continuance by quoting a rabbi: “He who thinks that he has finished is finished.” Nouwen continues, “How true. Those who think they have reached their goal have missed it. Those who think they are saints are demons. An important part of the spiritual life is to keep longing, waiting, hoping, expecting.”

The pursuit for intimacy is a journey. The quest is marked by a lifelong resolution to know God. There are no shortcuts or quick-fix deals. It is a passion that must burn for a lifetime.

The Genevan Catechism rightly makes this question its first: “What is the chief end of human life?” The answer: “To know God by whom men were created.” The Westminster Catechism rightly adds “and to fully enjoy Him forever.” This is a priority that can never be experienced in brevity. Rather, it is the commitment of our hearts that endures for a lifetime.

Indeed, this is a worthy pursuit. Richard J. Foster, in Celebration of Discipline, speaks of intimacy with God as a critical need in today’s church. “Superficiality is the curse of our age. The doctrine of instant satisfaction is a pressing spiritual problem. The desperate need today is not for a greater number of intelligent people, a gifted people, but for a deep people.”

Foster continues, “Perhaps somewhere in the subterranean chamber of your life you have heard the call to deeper, fuller living. Perhaps you have become weary of frothy experience and shallow teaching. Every now and then you have caught glimpses, hints of something more than you have known. Inwardly you have longed to launch out into the deep.”

How do we proceed on this journey? How is it that we cultivate intimacy with God for a lifetime? What are the practical considerations for a busy pastor?

First, it is imperative to think holistically. That is, to understand that one’s total experience of living must be centered in God. Intimacy with God is not an emotion that ebbs and flows, nor is it an occasional rush of excitement. No. It is a life lived in God: at work; at play; in the pulpit; at the hospital; in the counseling room; with family; on the golf course. This wonderful sense that all of life is caught up into God: bathed in grace; abounding in mercy; given over to compassion; and alive with joy and discovery.

Second, it is imperative to think intentionally. Spirituality is by design. No one will ever achieve an intimacy with God without a design to make it a reality. It is the purpose and intent of the heart, when focused on God, that cultivates that glorious sense of intimacy with God that the human heart craves.

Finally, it is imperative to think realistically. My wife and I are grandparents of an infant grandson. We watch with expectation as Noah advances from one level of development to the next. Try as we might, the process cannot be rushed. Time is required. The same is true in our quest to know God intimately. It takes time and involves process. Typically, it is only in retrospect that we realize how far He has brought us. The moment may deceive us, but our memory marks the glorious significance of our progress in knowing God more intimately.

Remember, intimacy with God is a journey. It is a quest that requires the rest of our lives. What an honor.

Intimacy And Relationship — It’s Actualized By Christ Within

Years ago I was looking for an appropriate subject for a master’s thesis. At the top of my list was the Pauline use of the phrase en Christos (in Christ). However, I rejected the idea because the subject seemed to be without boundaries. My project required a limited and manageable subject. But I have never lost my intrigue with so lofty a theme.

The key to intimacy with God is the release of the life of Christ within the heart of the believer. It is His life that must be released deep in the spirit of the believer. Our daily life then becomes the plank work on which a life of intimacy with God is walked out in actual experience.

Listen again to the testimony of Maxie Dunnam in Alive in Christ: “More and more I am convinced with Augustine that Paul is ‘the person who knew Christ best.’ … If one seeks for the most characteristic sentences the Apostle ever wrote, they will be found, not when he is refuting the legalistic, or vindicating his apostleship, or meditating on eschatological hopes, or giving practical ethical guidance to the church, but where his intense intimacy with Christ comes to expression. Everything that religion meant for Paul is focused for us in such great words as this: ‘I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me’ ” (Galatians 2:20).

Dunnam then speaks of “the rhythm of the Christian life,” that continual pouring out and life-giving renewal that is the result of Christ’s indwelling presence. Here is the dynamic of intimacy with God. Christ in us — the motivating power that results in a blessed life of intimacy.

The apostle Paul opened his heart and exposed his passion for intimacy by employing a descriptive metaphor: “I am again in the pains of childbirth until Christ is found in you” (Galatians 4:19). Here is the key for Paul, and for us. Intimacy with God is the life of Jesus released within the heart of the believer. By His life we are empowered. By His abiding presence we experience a quality of life only He can bring. The indwelling Christ is the shaping influence of our lives.

Recently, I listened with great interest as a district superintendent listed his three priorities for effective pastoral ministry. At the top of his list was intimacy with God. His top choice for priority remained unchallenged. Knowing God is not optional, not for any believer, and certainly not for a minister of the gospel.

Ask the average pastor to identify the thing most needed in ministry and service. The answer will be predictable enough: “To know God and to make Him known.” Yet this priority is often met with defeat and discouragement. May our confession be that of the apostle Paul, “I want to know Christ” (Philippians 3:10).

Where is the difficulty? Right here. Salvation is by grace and our relationship with God through Jesus Christ is also by grace. It is the release of His life within us, accomplished by His grace, that moves us into the much-coveted life of intimacy. If left to any of us, we would remain strangers to this inner circle of communion with God. Along with redemption, intimacy is a gift given by grace for the receiving. Out of our poverty comes His riches. Out of our alienation and estrangement comes His provision of intimacy. His life is released within us. This is the key to intimacy with God.

Intimacy And Solitude — It’s Fostered By A Retreat From The Rush Of Life

If the release of Christ within empowers the life of intimacy, solitude provides the context in which we experience that release. In other words, how can anyone whose life is consumed with the relentless rush and hurry of modern life have intimacy with God?

Foster is again helpful: “This time is for learning to ‘center down,’ or what contemplators of the middle ages called ‘re-collection.’ It is a time to become still, to enter into the recreating silence, to allow the fragmentation of our minds to become centered.”3

We live in a world that disallows any centering in on God. Foster continues: “The lust for affluence is psychotic. It is psychotic because it has completely lost touch with reality. We crave things we do not need or enjoy. We buy things we do not want to impress people we do not like.” So goes the insanity of it all. And that at the expense of our quest to know God.”

Perceptively, Donald P. McNeill in Compassion: A Reflection on the Christian Life has observed: “It is not hard to notice that those who are very involved in the world are often out of touch with its deepest struggles and pains, while those who live in solitude and community often have a great knowledge of the significant events of these times and a great sensitivity to the people who are subject to these events.”

Few have developed a theology and practice of solitude more insightfully than Henri J.M. Nouwen.4 “My reading about the spirituality of the desert has made me aware of the importance of nepsis. Nepsis means mental sobriety, spiritual attention directed to God, watchfulness in keeping the bad thoughts away, and creating free space for prayer.” He then defines prayer as “a habitual state of imperturbable calm.”

I also am strongly influenced by Nouwen’s warning to those who speak much and are caught up in a world of words: “It almost seems as if it is impossible to speak and not sin. Even in the most elevated discussion, something enters that seems to pollute the atmosphere.” Pushed to its extreme, such thinking leads to withdrawal and isolation. However, the warning is still to be heard. Verbosity can be the enemy of solitude and hence, intimacy with God. It is good to be reminded that it is virtually impossible to listen attentively while speaking vociferously. It would be well to listen more and speak less. Conversation, especially the idle kind, can sweep us away from the solitude and rest that God has intended for the human spirit.

One final thought triggered by Nouwen’s ideas about solitude is what he calls the “ought modality” — what I ought to say, or think, or do, or feel. When I succumb to this, I am victimized by my environment and surroundings. Compulsion rules the day. We find ourselves imprisoned in a world shaped by others rather than a life controlled by God. This is the enemy of any quest for intimacy with God.

Add to this the many “ifs”: what if I become ill; what if I lose my job; what if I am victimized by enemies; what if my peace is stolen by forces I cannot control. The “ifs,” like the “oughts,” sweep away the quietness and serenity of spirit that foster intimacy with God.

How do we, then, live a life of solitude in a fast-paced, rushing world? It is here that I find hope. There is an inner tranquility, quietness, and serenity that is attainable in the midst of a busy world. In other words, it is possible to live with an inner quietness, while navigating through the intersections of a rushing, out-of-control world.

Pastoring is demanding and setting priorities is rarely easy. Do I refuse to go to the bedside of someone in desperate need so I can practice solitude? Do I sacrifice ministry to others to nurture my own inner spirit? What belongs to God, and what belongs to men? How do I parcel out my time and energies in ways that will maximize my life of service to God and to His people? This is never an easy choice.

It is here that God’s call to obedience sheds its light on our path. Service unselfishly given does not exclude the life of solitude. With the fulfillment of our call also comes the opportunity to practice quietness and tranquility of spirit. This in balance is the call of the Spirit. A call we dare not dismiss.

Martin Luther acknowledged that on one occasion he had so much to do that he had to spend 4 hours in prayer to get everything done.5 Is there a secret here that most of us have not yet discovered? Is prayer the key to accomplishing much in response to the demands of a busy life? I think so.

Intimacy And Communion — It’s Cultivated In The Fellowship Of Prayer

I meet few Christians who are satisfied with their prayer lives. In fact, with some there is significant frustration and disappointment. Could it be we have given prayer a narrow definition that violates its very essence? Do we measure our prayer life against artificial criteria that is unbiblical and therefore unattainable?

It is said of Francis of Assisi that he prayed so much “he became a prayer.” Bloesch, in The Struggle of Prayer, characterizes the prayer life of the great saints not so much as involvement in a single act of protracted prayer or the endless repetition of prayers. Rather, it was a constant waiting on the Lord — praying inwardly even though occupied outwardly with the daily tasks of life.

May our lives become a prayer. Of course, we must include the regular practice of focused intercession, those occasions when a pressing challenge makes “praying through” the only option. But to see prayer as life is a dimension we should not discredit.

Jacques Ellul, inPrayer and Modern Man, has much to say about this broader understanding of prayer: “Prayer is not an affair of the moment. It is the continuous woof [fabric] on which is woven the warp [yarn] of my occupations, my sentiments, my actions. The warp without that woof will never constitute a whole, or a pattern, and the tissue of life will never be woven. We will, in fact, give way to every solicitation.”

Andrew Murray reminds us that Jesus never taught His disciples how to preach, only how to pray. Murray did not speak much of what was needed to preach well, but much of praying well in his book, With Christ in the School of Prayer. That is true and convictingly so. Do I know as much about praying as I do about preaching? Am I a student of prayer as much as a student of preaching? Is my love for prayer as strong as my affection for preaching?

How is intimacy with God possible without continuous prayer? How can closeness with God be cultivated aside from the fellowship of prayer? Does not this fellowship support both the necessity and the possibility of one’s life becoming a prayer? Must we pass in and out of prayer as if we were changing lanes on a busy freeway? No! God calls us by His Spirit to a life of intimacy fostered and fed by the practice of continuous prayer; a mind and heart set on God.

Intimacy And Strategy — It’s Received As A Gift Of Divine Grace

How do I experience intimacy with God? It involves journey, relationship, solitude, and prayer. But how? We must know. This is the bedrock of all we are, all we do, and all we hope to be — both in time and in eternity.

So far we have circled the wagons. We have listened to witnesses. We have tried to focus the subject. But now it is time to ask: How?

I don’t have the exact answer, yet I think I have hold of an arrow that points the way.

How do you fall in love? Is it a matter of time? No. Some people claim a “love at first sight.” Is it a matter of appearance? No. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and we have all witnessed persons deeply in love whose outward adorning is unimpressive. Is it a matter of presence? No. Some have fallen in love by correspondence. Do you get the point? There is something profound about falling in love, even on a human level, that defies definition and understanding.

It is here we have a clue. Intimacy with God is possible only because He wills it to be. It is His gift to us. It is a demonstration of His unmerited favor. He reaches out, and we are given the privilege of response. Our part is to remove the barriers, come out of hiding, rid ourselves of shame, and receive the gift of His grace: intimacy.

All that has been said is part of the picture. But it is grace that adds the color and brings the landscape to life. Mysterious? Unthinkable? Beyond? Yes. But it is gloriously real and incredibly divine. It is a life of intimacy with God.

Urban T. Holmes, in A History of Spirituality; An Analytical Introduction, lists the rungs on the ladder of ascent for John of the Cross:

1. The soul becomes sick for the glory of God.
2. The soul searches for God unceasingly.
3. The soul is moved to do works for God.
4. The soul suffers, the flesh is conquered, and God gives joy.
5. The soul has an impatient desire and longing for God.
6. The soul runs swiftly toward God and senses His touch.
7. The soul acquires an ardent boldness.
8. The soul lays hold of God as the beloved.
9. The soul burns gently with love.
10. The soul is assimilated to God, apparently after death.

Let’s join the climb. The view from an elevated place is inspiring and life-giving. We will climb until we arrive victoriously in His presence.

We have worked our way back, and the coffee is still warm. The passion for intimacy has been reignited, and we have been touched with a fresh wind of His Spirit.

We are left “gasping for the breath of your truth.”6

Richard L. Dresselhaus, D.Min., is an executive presbyter and former senior pastor, First Assembly of God, San Diego, California.

Endnotes

1. Kenneth Leech,Soul Friend (Harrisburg, Pa: Morehouse Publishing, 2001).

2. Richard F. Lovelace, Dynamics of Spiritual Life(Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 1979).

3. Richard J. Foster, Celebration of Discipline (San Francisco: Harper, 1988).

4. Henri J.M. Nouwen, The Genesee Diary (New York: Image Books, 1981).

5. Donald G. Bloesch, The Struggle of Prayer (Colorado Springs: Helmers and Howard Pub., 1989).

6. E.M. Blaiklock, The Confession of Saint Augustine (London: Hodder and Stoughton Pub., 1997).