January 21, 2004

• Prayer of a Heretic

  
  

  On the wall of my attorney's office there's a prayer.  Matted and framed and written in lovely calligraphic hand, I look at it every time I go there.  I read it while I wait.  I wonder how close or far I am from the ideals it suggests.  And I think about prayer. 

  
  

  I remember when the subject of prayer first captured my imagination.  Some years back, I was invited to teach a class on prayer.  Of course, I already had my own perspective on the topic, but I take teaching very seriously.  I poured through a dozen or more volumes written by men and women on prayer through the ages. 

  
  

  I had the idea that I'd be explaining how to pray, kind of a Prayer for Dummies thing.  As I studied and prepared, I was struck by the conviction that most of us (okay me, for all you new readers, feel free to assume that when I say us I mean me because really this blog is all about me), anyway that most of us have an inadequate understanding of what prayer is.  I have a friend who says that prayer is nothing more than a superstitious petition.  More than one person has said that the fact that so few prayers are "answered" is proof that God does not exist.  After all, if God exists, surely He would respond to the pleas of the faithful if He were at all able. 

  
  

  Before I began my notes, my own idea of prayer was that it was a conversation that I would enter and leave.  I'd talk to God at various times convenient to my schedule, and then the prayer would end.  I thought of prayer as primarly a mental activity, one in which my goal was to phrase my words as precisely as possible.  I learned to pray by the ACTS model (Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, Supplication).  Oh, and always "in the name of Jesus."

  
  

  I hope that I haven't given the impression that I now dispute that these are legitimate elements of prayer.  It's just that my original understanding was inadequate to cover all that I began to learn about prayer.  Prayer isn't ulimately about talking to, or even talking with.  To pray is to relate.  When I am able to open myself to this understanding of prayer my entire concept, my entire being changes. 

  
  

  See there is an aspect of prayer that is verbal just as there is an aspect of me that is verbal.  And on this note, I'll go ahead and tell you although I'd appreciate it if you'll keep it just between us, that sometimes when I pray verbally, God answers me the same way.  Mostly, He tells me jokes.  Sometimes He makes me groan because I've discovered that God as He reveals Himself to me is the Master of the Pun.  But my relationship with God is much broader and deeper than words.

  
  

  Because relating to God is at the basest level the process of orienting myself to God, everything I do is prayer.  Everything I think is prayer.  Everything I am is prayer.  Everything about my life is prayer.  No wonder the Apostle Paul said, "Pray without ceasing" ceasing to pray is the same thing as ceasing to live.  Some of my prayers are laments, some are celebrations, some are quiet being in the Presence, and some are actual conversations.  Now remember you aren't supposed to be telling on me, I have enough on my plate without having to spend the weekend in the hospital. 

  
  

  Whenever I say your name, where ever I walk, whenever I lie down to sleep, what ever I raise my hand to do --- I'm already praying. 

  
  

  and the prayer from my attorney's office:

  
  

  Lord, Thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing older and will some day be old.  Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion.  Release me from craving to straighten out everyone's affairs.  Make me thoughtful but not moody; helpful but not bossy.  With my vast store of wisdom: it seems a pity not to use it all, but Thou knowest Lord that I want a few friends in the end.

  
  

  Keep my mind free from teh recital of endless details; give me wings to get to the point.  Seal my lips on my aches and pains.  They are increasing and love of rehearsing them is growing sweeter as the years go by.  I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoythe tales of others' pains, but help me to endure them with patience.  I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others.

  
  

  Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.  Keep me reasonably sweet, I do not want to be a saint, some of them are hard to live with, but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the Devil.  Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places and talents in unexpected people, and Gove me O Lord, the grace to tell them so.  Amen  (17th Century Prayer)

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