Every year I make a week-long retreat to the Abbey of Gethsemani, tucked away in the rolling hills of Kentucky. Something about that place keeps calling me back: the silence, the simplicity, the invitation to step out of ordinary life and enter into solitude.
This year, though, my retreat didn’t begin with serenity. It began with a temper tantrum.
My buddy and I arrived late in the afternoon for our tenth annual retreat. I opened the door to my assigned room and stopped cold. It was tiny. One small window. Barely enough space to turn around. I looked at it and thought, Really? Where am I supposed to write, read, and contemplate nature?
After a seven-hour car ride, disappointment rushed in fast. I dropped my bags, tightened my jaw, and slipped into a full-blown childlike pout.
Not exactly a shining monastic moment.
So I walked outside to cool off. And there, on the front gate of the monastery, were the words:
“God Alone.”
I stood there and laughed. Or maybe God and I laughed together.
Because in that moment, something became clear. The retreat wasn’t about getting the right room. It wasn’t about having the perfect conditions to feel calm, centered, and prayerful. It was about being with God.
God alone.
That little phrase cut through my whining and brought me back to center.
False Self Attack
A few days later, my false self, tried again. A larger room opened up down the hall, and I felt the pull. Part of me wanted to pack up, find the retreat master, and make my case for an upgrade.
But that morning, a line from Psalm 23 in The Message landed in my heart, “The Lord is my shepherd, I have everything I need.”
So I stayed put.
But to be honest, every time I walked past that bigger room, the grumble in me still cleared its throat. Maybe that was part of the retreat too: not just seeing my attachments once but noticing how quickly they return.
The Wisdom of Thomas Merton
That’s what makes Thomas Merton’s words, “God Alone,” so powerful.
Thomas Merton, the great Trappist monk of Gethsemani, understood that “God Alone” was more than a pious slogan. For Merton, it didn’t mean rejecting the world or denying our humanity. It meant recognizing that God is the source, center, and fulfillment of everything.
We don’t build our lives on ego and then tack God on at the end. God is the beginning. God is the ground of all life.
Merton saw how easily we get distracted, even in the spiritual life. We can chase peace, virtue, and solitude as if we can manufacture them. But even good things can become substitutes for God.
In one of his sharpest insights, Merton says we can end up seeking abstractions like holiness, perfection, and piety instead of seeking God. That’s what makes “God Alone” so piercing. It pulls us back from self-improvement projects and returns us to relationship.
In plain language, I think Merton was saying at least four things.
First, God Alone means letting go of the false self.
The false self is the version of me that wants control, approval, comfort, and things to go according to plan. It says, “I can be at peace once I get the right room, the right conditions, the right outcome.”
My retreat meltdown wasn’t really about the room. It was about the false self not getting its way.
And the false self can get very religious. It can say, “But I need a better room so I can pray well.” It can baptize its preferences and call them necessities.
But “God Alone” exposes the game. It reminds me God is present everywhere. God is present in the room I have, not only in the room I want.
Second, God Alone means simplicity of heart.
Beneath all my inner grasping is an invitation to become simpler within. Not necessarily to own less, though sometimes that may be part of it. I mean becoming inwardly undivided. Not being pulled in ten directions by irritation, vanity, and restless demands.
That’s what happened at the monastery gate. My inner clutter got interrupted. In one glance, everything got simpler.
Why am I here?
Not for the perfect room.
Not for creaturely comfort.
Not to arrange my own little world.
I’m here to be alone with God, to listen for the inner voice of love, and to draw closer to Divine Presence.
Third, God Alone means contemplation over striving.
Merton understood the spiritual life can become one more arena for ego performance. We can try to become holy the way we try to become successful: by effort, image, and comparison.
But contemplation isn’t self-construction. It’s surrender. It’s consent. It’s showing up and allowing God to be God.
That’s why Merton’s famous prayer begins, “My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.” Those words aren’t failure. They’re honesty. They’re the ego loosening its grip and letting God lead.
Fourth, God Alone doesn’t mean loving God instead of people.
Merton is clear true solitude is not an escape from others. It helps us love God and other people more deeply. Real contemplation softens us. It doesn’t harden us. It makes us more authentically human, not less.
That matters.
Because “God Alone” can sound severe if we misunderstand it. It can sound like a denial of human need, beauty, and relationship. It can even twist into a holier-than-thou spirituality.
But that’s not what Merton meant. He meant when God becomes our center, everything else finds its right place. We stop asking people, possessions, circumstances, and outcomes to do for us what only God can do.
God Wastes Nothing
Maybe that’s one of the hidden invitations in every irritation. The irritant reveals what I’m clinging to. It exposes where I’ve made an idol out of comfort, control, or predictability.
And then, if I stop and listen, the irritant can point me back.
Back to center.
Back to the heart.
Back to God.
That doesn’t mean the room didn’t matter. It means the room wasn’t the point. God was. And once I remembered that I could laugh at myself and begin the retreat I had actually come for.
By the end of the week, the room I had judged as too small had become a little sanctuary where God and I could be alone. In that tucked-away space, something in me softened. I became smaller, and God became larger.
I still have much to learn on this contemplative path called Divine Flow. But I’m beginning to see that even the irritations of life are part of the process.
In God’s economy, even my temper tantrums can be used to re-center me and help me grow.
Maybe that’s one of the quiet graces of the spiritual life: God wastes nothing.
Not even a pouting wannabe monk in a too-small room.
And maybe the deeper question isn’t, “Is God Alone enough?”
Maybe the deeper question is this: When I’m not reaching for my phone, my plans, or my usual escapes, am I willing to trust that God is enough for me right now?
And the next time life irritates, interrupts, or rubs you the wrong way, perhaps don’t dismiss it too quickly. It may be more than an annoyance. It may be one of the quiet ways God turns life’s irritants into invitations—inviting you back to center, back to trust, and back to the peace of Divine Presence.
A Tool for Your Spiritual Toolbox: Lectio Divina with Thomas Merton
If you’d like to carry this reflection into your own quiet time, choose one of these short lines from Thomas Merton and sit with it slowly in prayer:
“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.”
— Thoughts in Solitude
“God alone is holy and strong.”
— The Sign of Jonas
“True solitude is the home of the person.”
— New Seeds of Contemplation
Try using these words in a simple Lectio Divina style:
Read
Choose one phrase and read it slowly two or three times. Don’t rush. Let the words settle.
Notice
Pay attention to the word or phrase that catches your attention. What stirs in you? What feels comforting, challenging, or life-giving?
Respond
Talk to God honestly about what appears. You don’t need polished prayers. Speak from the heart.
Rest
Sit quietly for a minute or two. Let the words move from your head to your heart. Simply be with God.
Live
Carry that phrase with you into the rest of your day. Return to it when you feel hurried, irritated, or scattered.
May you find, even in the ordinary irritations of life, the God who is gently drawing you back to the peace of Divine Presence.
Have a blessed week.
Your friend in the flow,
brian
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If you’ve been longing for a deeper, more peaceful way of experiencing God in everyday life, I’m hosting a free workshop called What’s the Contemplative Tradition… and What’s in It for Me?
In this workshop, we’ll explore what the contemplative path actually is, why so many of us were never taught it, and simple, practical ways to begin integrating it into your daily life.
It’s a simple, grounded introduction to a more life-giving way of walking with God.
Workshop Details
Date: Tuesday, May 5, 2026
Time: 7:00–8:30 p.m. Eastern
Location: Online via Zoom
Cost: Free
Register here: https://www.findingflowlife.com/whats-the-contemplative-tradition-workshop
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