Frankly, I don't understand it. Well, I don't understand a lot things, but particularly prayer. I have wanted to write several entries about prayer but I always get stuck with frankly, I don't understand it. I just know I am suppose to do it. And I do. I don't understand how it works and more often than not, if. And I am never quite sure what it is I am suppose to do either. I suspect some of difficulty in understanding prayer probably comes from my theology. More often than not how we view someone is very much how we will talk to them.
A couple of weeks ago I purchased a 1916 copy of "The Canticles of the Protestant Episcopal Church of the United States of America to be used with Morning and Evening Prayer," or briefly stated, "The New Hymnal". I collect prayer books (and bibles) of all kinds. This new purchase came out of the Episcopal church in Wilmington. Charlotte P. Bailey was the owner. She lived on 106 North Sixth Street. In case you are wondering, I only paid $5.50 for it. This fascinates me since a new BCP would cost much more and it is bound in paper not embossed leather. I wonder if Charlotte knew more about prayer than I. I wonder if she stared at her shoes.
During morning prayer Sunday at church, I found myself staring at my shoes. They were new. I have not had patent leather in a long time. And these were a very, very lovely nude color, open toed, open heel, stacked, wedges with a nice bow. I love those shoes. The pastor had instructed us to repeat, "Lord in your mercy," each time after the pastor said, "Lord hear our prayer." Now, I am very, very familiar with this liturgy, but I got a little lost on the first sentence, which I might add Faulkner would have been proud. I began staring and thinking about my shoes. How comfortable they were, how pretty, I can't believe that I only paid $12.50 for them and I might just have to buy another dress just to match the shoes. And then Davis poked me and said, "Mom are you even praying?" I felt properly chastised and decided it best to take my shoes off and place my feet on the cold, stone floor to stayed grounded and hopefully in an attitude of prayer. Actually, I felt like a novice who nods off during lauds (3 am), and the abbot comes by, hits him on the head and then chastises him to pray the Stations of the Cross until 6 am alone. And I have always wondered if the abbots were leading communal prayer how did they know the novice wasn't praying?
And I began to think as my feet touched that cold, stone floor that it is an awesome responsibility to give voice to someone else's prayers. How does a pastor decide exactly what to say on Sunday morning? Does he write it down? Is it ad lib? Did he get it from a website? What if he gets a name wrong or forget someone? Does he really know everyone he is praying for? Does it matter if he doesn't? Am I suppose to be listening to his words or saying my own? Is there a class on saying pastoral prayers in divinity school? And how do you grade that? Is he really praying or just talking? Clearly, my grounding technique was not working.
Prayer is a mystery. It is simply to big for us to define. It is not meant to be figured out. Like all forms of communication, it is based on relationship. Jesus clearly thought prayer so very important, he rushed to do it. In Mark, for instance, the word immediately is used to describe Jesus before he prayed. "And immediately he went away to pray..." John describes an incredibly realistic Jesus who prayed. For the better part of three chapters Jesus prays for his disciples...and the gist was this: "Guys this is going to be the hardest thing you have ever done, it will not be easy, it will hurt, but just hang in there..."
And the psalms just don't get any more real. Just read Psalm 22. The psalmists screamed at the door to heaven and demanded answers.
Perhaps this is where we all struggle. The mystery. You may think you really know someone. Think about your dearest friend, a spouse, your child. You may know all about them but something will always remain a mystery. It is not in the knowing that the relationship is built, it is in the experience.
We will never "know" God, but we can experience God. And I think perhaps this is crucial to how we pray at times. "As we believe, so we pray."
And I can be less than honest with God about what I believe to be true...If prayer is to mean anything at all...if I am going to have any sort of intimate relationship at all with God..then I can not self edit. I have to learn it is ok to say..."God, I am a bit more than disappointed in you." "God, you can not possibly be listening to me... because if you were listening..." "God, it hurts my feelings to feel this abandoned by you.." I think the thing to realize about prayer is this and this may be the most important thing of all...
God is the only one, the only one you will ever be able to be completely real with without fear...there will be no judgement, there will be no anger, there will be no rejection, there will only be one thing...and this is the one thing...and this is the only thing you ever have to know..the only thing you ever really need to believe about God is quite simply this...God will always meet you with...
GRACE...
all is grace,
beyond grateful that people actually read my words as if I had something important to say
nude patent leather shoes
duponi silk
clouds that collapse on one another
rental cars
friends
sunshine
cats curled on top of my feet keeping them warm
stone cold floors
prayers spoken and unspoken
iced tea
ice cold watermelon
bee balm
monarch butterflies
the first hummingbird of summer
ground hogs playing in the grass
the color turquoise
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