Prayers
01/02/19 04:32
I can’t speak for other religions, or even for other expressions of Christianity, but I certainly run into quite a few people whose ideas about prayer are different from my own. People often think of prayer as a solitary activity - something that you do on your own in a private place all by yourself. There is a good reason for that. Jesus is quotes in Matthew saying:
“Whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, because they love to pray while standing in synagogues and on street corners so that people can see them. Truly I say to you, they have their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room, close the door, and pray to your Father in secret. And your Father, who sees in secret, will reward you” (Matthew 6:5-6).
Jesus’ own words advise us to go into our rooms, close the door and pray in secret. There is a long tradition of solitary prayer in Christianity. From the time of the desert mothers and fathers to the present, there have always been Christian mystics who have separated themselves from the mainstream of society for the purpose of pursuing prayer as a full-time vocation.
Having said that, however, I often experience prayer as a very connectional activity where I am deeply aware of the power of community. A little over years ago I experienced the sudden and unexpected death of one of my brothers. Then my mother died. Our first grandson was born. My father in law died. Our daughter got married. It was supposed to be a sabbatical year for me, but while I was gone on the sabbatical some folks thought the timing was right to launch significant criticism of me and attempt to bring about a change in the leadership of the church. One of the leaders of the critics wrote me the nastiest letter I have ever received. I would have been able to handle any one of these events on my own with grace and dignity. However, the combination and the cumulation of events left me reeling. Some days I would try to pray and I couldn’t even figure out how to do it.
It was then that I became aware that there were a lot of people who were praying for me. It was in that season of my life that I learned an important lesson that I have shared with people many times since: “When you have no words for your prayer, it is a good thing to know that you aren’t the only one praying.” There is no question that the prayers of others upheld me as I journeyed through that year and into the next when I was still picking up the pieces of the year that had passed. I move on. The church moved on. The critics, including the writer of the letter continued to participate in the church and the church gave us opportunities to renew our relationship. I learned to have face to face and supportive conversations with some of the folks who had previously seemed to be attacking me. We grew in faith through our experiences.
My season of grief gave me a deeper connection with those who grieve, but it also gave me a connection with the power of prayer.
I participate in a couple of different prayer chains. One of those prayer chains is made up of just a half dozen of my colleagues - all pastors of churches of other denominations than my own. They are also my friends. We usually ask each other to pray via text message and we keep each other advised with those for whom we pray. I’m pretty sure that we have pretty divergent theologies of intercessory prayer. I don’t think God needs me to tell God that there is a need. And I know that God doesn’t need me to tell God what to do. I pray to raise my own consciousness of God’s power and presence. I pray to surround another person with spiritual support and care. Others may think of their prayers differently. We often pray for situations where the outcome is not what we would desire. A sick person doesn’t recover. An accident victim doesn’t survive. A bitter person makes terrible decisions. An addict abuses worse than before. Of course there are times when we have witnessed remarkable cures and genuine recovery as well. What has occurred through this particular prayer chain, is that I have deepened my respect for my colleagues. I have learned of their great compassion and care. I don’t know what words they use when they pray, or if hey use words at all. What I do know is that there are others with whom I can share my concerns. Even if my prayers take place in a secret place with the door shut they have the effect of making me feel more connected to others.
Of course I have responsibility for leading communal prayers as well. I made a resolution, before I was ordained that I would never refuse to pray when asked. If someone asks me to say grace or to close a meeting with a prayer, I always say, “I’m honored to do so.” And I am honored. I know that others are capable of praying and I am grateful when they do, but I don’t shirk from the responsibility of leading others in prayer. I think that this practice has brought me closer to others. Those leading committee meetings in our church often bring prayers of their own, but they know that I will always say yes if asked and it receives some tension over how to begin or end a meeting. We don’t have to go through an awkward time of everyone staring at their shoes hoping someone else will volunteer.
My prayers are not about informing God. They are about reminding myself and others that we belong to something bigger than just ourselves. We are connected to those who suffer and those who grieve. When we take time to think of those connections, we understand ourselves more clearly.
“Whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, because they love to pray while standing in synagogues and on street corners so that people can see them. Truly I say to you, they have their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room, close the door, and pray to your Father in secret. And your Father, who sees in secret, will reward you” (Matthew 6:5-6).
Jesus’ own words advise us to go into our rooms, close the door and pray in secret. There is a long tradition of solitary prayer in Christianity. From the time of the desert mothers and fathers to the present, there have always been Christian mystics who have separated themselves from the mainstream of society for the purpose of pursuing prayer as a full-time vocation.
Having said that, however, I often experience prayer as a very connectional activity where I am deeply aware of the power of community. A little over years ago I experienced the sudden and unexpected death of one of my brothers. Then my mother died. Our first grandson was born. My father in law died. Our daughter got married. It was supposed to be a sabbatical year for me, but while I was gone on the sabbatical some folks thought the timing was right to launch significant criticism of me and attempt to bring about a change in the leadership of the church. One of the leaders of the critics wrote me the nastiest letter I have ever received. I would have been able to handle any one of these events on my own with grace and dignity. However, the combination and the cumulation of events left me reeling. Some days I would try to pray and I couldn’t even figure out how to do it.
It was then that I became aware that there were a lot of people who were praying for me. It was in that season of my life that I learned an important lesson that I have shared with people many times since: “When you have no words for your prayer, it is a good thing to know that you aren’t the only one praying.” There is no question that the prayers of others upheld me as I journeyed through that year and into the next when I was still picking up the pieces of the year that had passed. I move on. The church moved on. The critics, including the writer of the letter continued to participate in the church and the church gave us opportunities to renew our relationship. I learned to have face to face and supportive conversations with some of the folks who had previously seemed to be attacking me. We grew in faith through our experiences.
My season of grief gave me a deeper connection with those who grieve, but it also gave me a connection with the power of prayer.
I participate in a couple of different prayer chains. One of those prayer chains is made up of just a half dozen of my colleagues - all pastors of churches of other denominations than my own. They are also my friends. We usually ask each other to pray via text message and we keep each other advised with those for whom we pray. I’m pretty sure that we have pretty divergent theologies of intercessory prayer. I don’t think God needs me to tell God that there is a need. And I know that God doesn’t need me to tell God what to do. I pray to raise my own consciousness of God’s power and presence. I pray to surround another person with spiritual support and care. Others may think of their prayers differently. We often pray for situations where the outcome is not what we would desire. A sick person doesn’t recover. An accident victim doesn’t survive. A bitter person makes terrible decisions. An addict abuses worse than before. Of course there are times when we have witnessed remarkable cures and genuine recovery as well. What has occurred through this particular prayer chain, is that I have deepened my respect for my colleagues. I have learned of their great compassion and care. I don’t know what words they use when they pray, or if hey use words at all. What I do know is that there are others with whom I can share my concerns. Even if my prayers take place in a secret place with the door shut they have the effect of making me feel more connected to others.
Of course I have responsibility for leading communal prayers as well. I made a resolution, before I was ordained that I would never refuse to pray when asked. If someone asks me to say grace or to close a meeting with a prayer, I always say, “I’m honored to do so.” And I am honored. I know that others are capable of praying and I am grateful when they do, but I don’t shirk from the responsibility of leading others in prayer. I think that this practice has brought me closer to others. Those leading committee meetings in our church often bring prayers of their own, but they know that I will always say yes if asked and it receives some tension over how to begin or end a meeting. We don’t have to go through an awkward time of everyone staring at their shoes hoping someone else will volunteer.
My prayers are not about informing God. They are about reminding myself and others that we belong to something bigger than just ourselves. We are connected to those who suffer and those who grieve. When we take time to think of those connections, we understand ourselves more clearly.