St. Anthony: From wealth to wilderness

Our story here begins some 250 years after Jesus’ resurrection, in a world still dominated by the Roman Empire—stretching from Britain to North Africa to the Middle East. For Christians, it falls under one of those “open season on the faithful” chapters of our history. 

The emperor—afraid that the quickly growing Christian population would pick Christ over Caesar and revolt—was on an extermination spree, forcing citizens to sacrifice to Roman gods or die. It was a time of war, plague, and martyrdom. Basically, the only thing they were missing was an X account. #WhenUnprecedentedTimesAren’tUnprecedented 😬🥴

But 1,400 miles from Rome, far from palaces and gladiator pits, the father of monasticism was born. St Anthony—whose life would redefine Christian spirituality—began not as a poor hermit in the wilderness, but as an heir surrounded by wealth and comfort. 

Those earthly riches weighed on him, though, and after his parents died, he heard the words of the Gospel, “Go, sell what you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” (Matthew 19:21).

Anthony took those words literally, selling all his possessions and giving the money to the poor. Then, he started looking for ways to follow Christ. He was drawn at first to the hermits who lived on the outskirts of his town, learning the ways of prayer, fasting, and self-denial. 

But that wasn’t enough, and eventually he walked straight into the Egyptian desert, abandoning everything he’d known and himself to God. 

And while God was always with him, the desert is where the devil found him, too. 

The biblical call to solitude and silence 

Entering the wilderness to find solitude and silence is a thread woven deep in the heart of the Christian faith, modeled for us in the Old and New Testaments. Moses was alone in the wilderness when he encountered God in the burning bush (Exodus 3:1-2), and spent forty days alone with God on Mount Sinai, receiving the Ten Commandments (Exodus 34:28) 

Later, in 1 Kings 19:11-12, God tells Elijah to stand on a mountain because He is about to pass by. Then, three dramatic events happened—a powerful wind tore through the mountains, a mighty earthquake shook the land, and a blazing fire swept through—but God was not in any of those things. After all this chaos and power, there was a “gentle whisper” (some translations say “a still small voice” or “the sound of sheer silence”). That is where Elijah encountered God.

And in the New Testament, Jesus takes even more time for solitude and silence. Before beginning His ministry, he enters the wilderness for 40 days (Matthew 4:1-2). Before choosing His disciples, He spent the night in prayer alone (Luke 6:12). After feeding the 5,000, he withdraws to pray (Matthew 14:23). And before His crucifixion, we see Him praying alone in Gethsemane (Matthew 26:36).

Now, you might be reading this thinking, No need to sell me on silence. I would give both kidneys and a hip to have some silence in this season of life right now. Maybe you’re nursing a baby, have kids who enjoy being fed regularly, or, you know, can’t just quit your job and wander into the desert for 40 days—we hear you. As fully initiated members of the “Can’t Even Pee Alone” club, we get it. And more importantly, God gets it, too.

But He does ask us to create pockets of silence and solitude so we can connect with Him. In Psalm 46:10, He says, “Be still and know that I am God.” These moments are not empty spaces but opportunities for us to experience God. Places where we meet Him, hear His voice, and find deep trust in Him. In our modern world, that is often a tricky feat. 

Why we resist silence—and why we need it

We are so constantly bombarded by the busyness of life. With meetings, appointments, errands, work, extracurricular activities, and more. 

Henri Nouwen puts it well in his book The Way of the Heart, “There is seldom a period in which we do not know what to do, and we move through life in such a distracted way that we do not even take the time and rest to wonder if any of the things we think, say, or do are worth thinking, saying, or doing. We simply go along with the many ‘musts’ and ‘oughts’ that have been handed on to us, and we live with them as if they were authentic translations of the Gospel of our Lord.”

His words ring true—and they hint at something even deeper. Sometimes, our distractions aren’t just us accidentally overbooking ourselves; they’re intentional. If we keep ourselves constantly occupied, we don’t have to sit in the silence where God might speak. 

And the truth is, we don’t always want to hear what He has to say. What if He asks us to let go of something we love? What if He challenges the plans we’ve carefully laid out? What if His voice interrupts the comforts we cling to?

Silence is risky because it strips away our excuses. In the stillness, we lose the ability to drown out conviction, to pretend we don’t know what He’s asking of us. It is so often easier to stay busy than to surrender.

And while we may have more readily available distractions at our fingertips, St. Anthony and the other desert fathers recognized that the impulse to stay busy isn’t new—it’s human nature. The temptation to fill our lives with noise, tasks, and comforts has always been there.

So they took the radical approach: they walked away from it all. They stripped their lives of distraction because they understood that holiness requires room to grow. In the silence of the desert, there was no crowd to impress, no status to maintain, no endless stream of diversions to numb the soul. 

St. Anthony said, “He who wishes to live in solitude in the desert is delivered from three conflicts: hearing, speech, and sight; there is only one conflict for him and that is with fornication.”

The fornication he refers to is more than just physical sin—it is the battle with temptation itself, the relentless struggle against the desires, thoughts, and attachments that seek to pull the soul away from God. Removed from the distractions of the world, the desert fathers were freed from external temptations. But solitude did not eliminate temptation. Instead, it magnified the war within. 

There, in the stillness, they faced themselves—not just their longing for comfort, companionship, or pleasure, but the deeper unrest of the human heart. Their desires, their weaknesses, their fears—all laid bare before God. With no distractions left to dull their awareness, they had to confront what had always been lurking beneath the surface: pride, vanity, restlessness, and the craving for anything other than God to satisfy the soul.

And that’s where we see Anthony again, walking into the desert, where temptation waits like an open maw.

Anthony’s temptations: When the enemy peaks

Temptation was waiting for St. Anthony in the desert, and it didn’t show up subtly. Demons came for him in full force—whispering voices, clashing sounds of battle, terrifying visions, and even wild beasts sent to attack him. But Anthony wasn’t easily shaken.

In his solitude, he fought back with prayer and unwavering faith, echoing Paul’s words: “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world” (Ephesians 6:12).

At night, those who visited him saw the mountain filled with wild animals, as though hell itself had opened against him. Yet Anthony stood firm, declaring, “I am a servant of Christ.” His words alone sent the demons fleeing.

The devil, relentless as ever, tried again—sending hyenas to surround him in the dark. But Anthony, seeing through the enemy’s tricks, responded with holy defiance: “If you have power over me, then devour me. But if not, depart, for I am Christ’s.” Once again, the beasts disappeared.

Then came one last attempt: a grotesque, part-human, part-animal creature appeared before him. Anthony simply signed himself with the cross and stood his ground. The beast collapsed and died, a sign that the demons had lost this fight. While this would be enough for most of us to assume the fetal position, these episodes were a small number of many spiritual assaults Anthony endured over his lifetime. 

The desert, the battle, and the encounter

But Anthony’s battles weren’t unique to him—they’re the same battles we all face, just maybe with less terrifying visuals. 

And it is precisely when we find ourselves in that exposure—outside of distraction, outside of our usual comforts—that Satan strikes. Just as he came for Jesus in the wilderness and Anthony in the desert, he comes for us in our solitude, whispering lies, stirring up fear, and trying to convince us that the crazed and depraved thoughts that assault our minds are the truth. 

Yet even in the wilderness, we are never truly alone. Just as Christ stood with Anthony in the desert, He stands with us in our battles. Scripture proclaims that truth to us again and again:

Isaiah 41:10 – “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.”

Psalm 23:4 – “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.”

John 16:33 – “In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

2 Corinthians 12:9 – “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”

The desert—the place of solitude and silence—is the forge for transformation in the Christian life. 

Anthony spent the next twenty years in solitude, and when he finally emerged, those who saw him were stunned—he looked unchanged. Neither scraggly from fasting nor bloated by idleness, he was strong, steady, unshaken. He wasn’t swayed by attention, grief, or pleasure—a soul ruled by reason and faith.

And with him came power. Through him, the sick were healed, the possessed freed, and the sorrowful consoled. His words, filled with grace, persuaded many to forsake the world for Christ. Soon, the desert became a city of monks, drawn by his example.

Anthony’s solitude prepared him not just to withstand the world, but to transform it. And this is the gift of silence—not emptiness, but encounter.

Ultimately, solitude and silence are not an absence but presence. When we are still, we make space for the Living Word to speak.

The Word through whom all things were made, who called light from darkness, who knit you together in your mother’s womb, who commanded Lazarus to rise, who rebuked storms, cast out demons, healed the sick, forgave sins, shattered chains, and defeated death itself. 

That Word speaks now—but have we made room to listen? When we drown our lives in busyness and noise, we silence the very voice that brings life. But when we embrace the quiet, we don’t just escape distraction; we step into divine presence. 

This kind of silence—the kind that makes room for God—isn’t passive; it’s the posture of a heart ready to receive. And no one shows us this better than Mary.

The silence that speaks

When the angel appeared at the Annunciation, she didn’t rush to speak—she listened. And throughout Scripture, Mary’s silence is striking. But perhaps it’s not because the Gospel writers forgot her words, but because she is the silence through which the Living Word was born. 

In the moments in which any other mother would’ve cried out—Simeon’s prophecy, fleeing to Egypt, losing Jesus for three days, meeting Him on His way to Calvary, watching Him crucified—Mary has very little to say. 

But her silence was never empty—it was full. Full of faith, full of surrender, full of divine presence. And in a world that rushes to fill every space with noise, distraction, and urgency, 

Mary shows us another way:

A silence that listens. A silence that trusts. A silence that receives.

And if we follow her example, we will hear the same Word she heard, the One who speaks life, healing, and transformation.

Mindset Takeaway: Practicing Silence in Daily Life

Silence doesn’t require an empty house, a retreat, or a desert—it begins with small, intentional choices woven into everyday life. Here’s how you can cultivate desert moments where God’s voice can be heard.

Start Small

Before diving into the noise of the day, take just 1–2 minutes of intentional silence. Before you pick up your phone in the morning, before prayer, or before stepping into a busy moment, pause. Let stillness be your first act of the day, a space where God is invited in before the world rushes in.

Create ‘Desert Moments’ in Your Day

You don’t have to escape to the wilderness to encounter God—you can meet Him in the quiet corners of your routine.

• Turn off background noise while doing dishes, driving, or rocking a baby.
• Resist the urge to fill silence with a podcast, TV show, or scrolling.
• Let small moments of quiet become places of prayer, reflection, and rest.

These pauses may seem insignificant, but over time, they become sacred spaces where the Living Word speaks.

Replace Reaction with Reflection

When faced with stress, frustration, or overwhelm, practice pausing before responding—just as Mary did. Instead of rushing to react, take a breath. Let silence create space for grace, allowing you to respond with wisdom, patience, and trust instead of fear, frustration, or impulse.

Let Silence Reveal, Not Just Remove

Silence isn’t just about eliminating distractions—it’s about paying attention.

• When you quiet the noise, what rises in your heart?
• Do you feel restless? Anxious? Pulled toward a distraction?
• Do certain worries, emotions, or desires surface?

Rather than pushing them away, offer them to God. Let Him reveal what needs healing, pruning, or surrendering—and trust that He is speaking in that stillness.

And if you’re looking for a little more structure to help you enter into this practice, we’ve got a totally free Lectio Divina guide to go along with this week’s blog post. It’s a simple, guided way to pray with Scripture and make space for the Living Word to speak into your life.

You can download it for free (don’t even need to put in your email!). 

And, in case you need some courage for the desert season ahead, grab this screen saver with St. Anthony’s words to bolster you!