During the decline of the Roman Empire, Benedict of Nursia (480–547 AD) struggled with the lack of Christ-like character among monks, whom he derogatorily called ‘gyrovagues.’ These monks chose an itinerant lifestyle. Therefore, they heavily relied on charity. Gyrovagues would enter a monastery, stay for a few days, eat their fill, and then move on at the first sign of relational tension, hard work, or boredom.
Benedict wisely understood that spiritual maturity would be impossible for these men if they continued changing their environments so quickly. Consequently, he introduced a very practical solution: a new order committed to the vows of stability, fidelity, and obedience. Meant to work synergistically, these ancient vows remain valuable in fostering Christlike transformation for modern men and women.
Stability Defined
Modern society is comfortable with leaving. We leave jobs, marriages, neighborhoods, friendships, and churches with a regularity that was unthinkable even a century ago. While our hyper-mobile world has its benefits, I wonder if our inability to ‘stay put’ creates serious long-term problems that are difficult to see because we do not stay in one place long enough to see them!
Saint Benedict certainly believed this was the case. His solution to the lack of Christ-like character was the vow of stability, which called every monk in his order to commit to that single monastic community for the remainder of their lives.
I realize that the thought of committing to live in one location for the remainder of your life may sound daunting, or even impossible, but I urge you not to dismiss the idea too quickly. A commitment to a single place and people can profoundly shape your life. It fosters valuable character traits of consistency and steadiness, and brings permanence and durability to one’s experiences. Here are just a few ways that pledging to stability might be advantageous.
Stability Offers Us Freedom
Western society tells us that our options for life are limitless. While this sounds enticing, in reality, the idea often burdens us with anxiety. Limitless options perpetuate constant questions like, Am I in the right place? Is there a better job, church, spouse, or neighborhood somewhere?
Our worries about what could be prevent us from remaining present with what is, robbing us of the well-being we seek.
Boundaries Create Freedom
Boundaries increase a sense of freedom and well-being rather than restricting it. For example, studies show that children in a fenced playground feel safe to explore the entire space.1 However, when the same children are in an unfenced playground, they stay close to their parents or caregivers.
Stability acts as such a boundary on one’s life. It frees us from the restlessness and angst of infinite choices and allows us to make the most of what is right in front of us. Stability cultivates a trust in God’s sovereignty that allows us to say with King David, “The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance” (Psalm 16:6).
Stability frees us from the restlessness and angst of infinite choices and allows us to make the most of what is right in front of us.
Stability Smooths Rough Edges
When I was a young boy, my parents gave me a rock tumbler for Christmas. It worked by rotating rough stones, water, and abrasive grit in a small barrel. As the barrel turned, the rocks and grit would grind against each other until all the sharp edges wore away. The process took weeks. When finished, I used polishing compound to give them a quick buff, and my rough and dirty rocks gleamed like gems!
While many components are necessary for a rock tumbler to work, the most overlooked is the lid on the barrel. Without the lid, the rocks would quickly fall out. Outside the tumbler, they will remain unchanged. A commitment to stability serves as the lid that keeps us in the barrel. Without it, we tend to escape the churning and jostling of life that God intends for our proper shaping and transformation.
Stability and Forgiveness
This year, I will be celebrating my 30th year on staff and my 25th year as senior pastor of our church. In those three decades, many people, for many reasons, left our fellowship for a different church down the street or around the corner. In one particularly difficult season, I was hesitant to even shop at the local grocery store, for fear of encountering someone who had left in frustration over tough decisions the church needed to make. There were times when it seemed like my life would be much easier if I could leave too. But fortunately, I didn’t. My commitment to stability held me in place, and God used those difficult times to shave off many of my rough edges.
Stability taught me to forgive and ask for forgiveness. It replaced pride with humility, and fear gave way to a deeper trust in God.
Stability taught me to forgive and ask for forgiveness. It replaced pride with humility, and fear gave way to a deeper trust in God. Curiosity and understanding replaced bitterness and resentment. My commitment to stability made me a better person. It helped me experience what the brother of Jesus wrote in James 1:2–4:
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”
Stability Creates Deep Community
One of the most common reasons people move from one place to another is the search for community. It makes sense. Our desire for a deeply aligned association with others is core to who we are as human beings. God created us out of community (Genesis 1:26) and for community (Genesis 2:18).
Yet I have witnessed people change churches, neighborhoods, friend groups, and even marriages in search of profound relationships. Many never find what they are looking for. The primary reason they don’t is that community cannot be found; it must be built. The vow of stability gives us the time and space for careful construction.
When my wife Michelle and I started our family, we moved into a typical suburban neighborhood. Everyone was kind but kept to themselves. Recognizing that community had to be built, Michelle connected with another young mom who lived around the corner and hatched a plan to host a soup night where each family brought their favorite soup to share.
That initial effort led to swim parties, sleepovers, birthday celebrations, baptisms, and more soup nights than could be counted. For two and a half decades, this little community lived out nearly every ‘one another’ command found in Scripture. We loved one another, encouraged one another, forgave one another, served one another, spoke truth to one another, carried one another’s burdens, built one another up, comforted one another, and so much more.
What everyone thought would be a few years in starter homes turned into one of the most life-shaping communities imaginable. The reason for our success was simple: stability. Although we didn’t make an official vow, we were all committed to staying. Because we did, we built the community we all longed for.
In It for the Long Haul
I understand that not everyone can or will stay in the same location for thirty years or more. The truth is, I’m not even sure that everyone should. Regardless of whether you stay or go, I do challenge all believers to adopt the principle that underscores Benedict’s vow of stability: Resist the urge to pack up at the first sign of relational tension, hard work, or boredom. Before making a move, ask yourself, the Holy Spirit, and a few trusted friends whether you are trying to escape or if God is inviting you to move on. If it’s God who is asking you to move, then go with God’s blessing! If not, then tuck in for the long haul. God’s sure to form tenacity and contentment, strength and patience if you surrender to the process.
Article by Ken Van Vliet.
- Peter Summerlin, “ASLA 2006 Student Awards: Residential Design Award of Honors,” American Society of Landscape Architects. ↩︎
