Prayer as Life

This past Saturday I presented a workshop on prayer, sharing how we can really pray continually, as Paul instructed the Thessalonians (1 Thessalonians 5:17). As I prepared for the workshop, I considered opening the session by asking participants, “How would you describe your prayer life?”

That got me thinking about the term “prayer life.” As often as I have heard, or even used, that term, I never realized before last week how much of a misnomer it really is.

Using the term “prayer life” implies that prayer is a compartmentalized part of life. We “do” our praying, check it off the list, and move on to the rest of our life. If that is what prayer is, then Paul’s instruction is nearly impossible. We would have to give up work, family time and most everything else in order to pray continually.

If that is what we think prayer is, we have an inaccurate description of prayer. Prayer is life, not just a part of life. Prayer is living in the continual awareness that we are always in the presence of God. Thus all our activities are continual prayer offered to God if we are attuned to God’s continual outpouring of love over us.

To talk about “prayer life” is like talking about “breath life” or “heartbeat life.”  We cannot compartmentalize our breathing into a certain block of time, or stop and start our heartbeat at our convenience. Our very breathing is a gift from God, and is offered back to God in gratitude without us even thinking about it. Our heart beats in praise to God. When we are aware of these great gifts, our awareness becomes a prayer to God for them.

We offer petitions to God, but these are only part of a life of prayer. Living a life fully alive and aware and in a state of gratitude makes all of life a prayer. When we live life this way, we cannot help but draw nearer to God. 

Senses as Sacrament

O taste and see that God is good.

                                                                Psalm 34:8

Taste is not the sense I first think of when speaking of the goodness of God. In fact, when I hear taste and good in the same sentence, I think of something to eat. Yet the taste of food should remind me of God’s goodness. The orange juice I drink with breakfast, a sweet cookie enjoyed midafternoon, the bread and wine of Eucharist—all these are gifts from God and should be present reminders to me of God’s goodness.

But this verse is not exclusively about tasting the goodness of God. Each of my senses should draw me to a deeper awareness of God’s goodness.

The warmth of sun on my skin, the coolness of a breeze, the hug of a friend—O touch and see that God is good.

The sight of a sunrise, the color of a flower, the smile on a child’s face—O look and see that God is good.

The sound of a bird’s song, laughter around a table, or the whistling I hear in the hall outside my office—O listen and see that God is good.

The aroma of freshly baked bread, the scent of a baby’s neck, the smell of a ripe peach—O sniff and see that God is good.

With all my senses I can praise God. I worship with every hair, every heartbeat, every breath, every swallow, every blink. It is all available as sacrament—an outward and visible (or tactile, auditory, gustatory, olfactory) sign of God’s grace. Each of my senses tune me toward God, turning my mind to worship, to awareness, to prayer.

So taste and touch and look and listen and sniff and experience God’s goodness, which is in and around us every moment of every day!

Listening for Quiet

Most of us have almost constant noise in our lives. Whether it’s the inadvertent sounds of air conditioners, traffic or computers or the intentional sounds of television, music or conversations, we are surrounded by sounds. Many people I know invite background sounds of television or radio because they don’t want their surroundings to be quiet.

We may hear the Spirit through the voices of friends and family or through music or through other sounds. However, we may be more likely to hear God’s voice in silence.

Elijah, the famous prophet, whose story is told in 1 Kings, received God’s messages regularly. But when Elijah’s life was threatened, God came to him in an unexpected way:

The Lord said, “Go out and stand at the mountain before the Lord. The Lord is passing by.”

A very strong wind tore through the mountains and broke apart the stones before the Lord.

But the Lord wasn’t in the wind.

After the wind, there was an earthquake.

But the Lord wasn’t in the earthquake.

After the earthquake, there was a fire.

But the Lord wasn’t in the fire.

After the fire, there was a sound.

Thin.

Quiet.

When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his coat.

He went out and stood at the cave’s entrance.

A voice came to him and said, “Why are you here, Elijah?”      1Kings 19:11-13(CEB)

Wind. Earthquake. Fire. These are ways we might expect the God of all creation to make God’s presence known. Instead, God came to Elijah in quiet—quiet that Elijah can hear.

When we intentionally choose quiet, it is a fast from the almost perpetual sound that keeps us always at a level of semi-attention. We may not even be conscious of the wear such sound is placing on our souls. Quiet gives our souls time to rest, time to heal, time to listen for that thin sound of God.

If you are not practiced at intentional quiet, I invite you to try it. Start small—5 minutes a day, or if you are really feeling adventurous, try 5 minutes at two different times a day. Like physical exercise, you have to be deliberate, be consistent, and build up gradually.

Thin. Quiet. It is a marvelous invitation to listen for the whisper of God!

Burnout or Burning Love?

When I was a child, I remember making a piñata out of a balloon and papier mâché. We inflated the balloon and applied the coating of papier mâché. Once the coating was dry, we popped the balloon and the papier mâché retained the shape of the balloon that had been inside. Without the extra strength of the balloon inside, we had to handle the piñata carefully, as it was rather fragile (which is a good thing if you are going to swing at it with a bat).

I see many folks whose Christianity could be illustrated with a piñata. They have experienced the Ruach, the breath of God, the Holy Spirit, at some time in their lives. It filled them and their lives expanded. As they took on the works that manifested their faith, these outward signs of discipleship became the manifestation of their Christian walk. These important acts of discipleship—missions, Bible study and attendance—at some point displaced the inner Spirit as the primary expression of faith.

A faith practiced only in outward works is quite fragile, and I’ve seen many who crack under the pressure of this one-sided, outward discipleship. You will know them by expressions such as these: “I’ve done my time,” “I need a break from church work,” “Let the folks with children handle it,” “I’m burned out.” I’ve heard these comments and, I confess, at one time in my life, I said such myself. When works for Christ are done from a sense of obligation rather than passionate desire, burnout is the eventual result.

Works are certainly important, and the world is in great need of visible expressions of the love of Christ. But the primary cry of the heart is for an indwelling Spirit, not a project to complete. The “Protestant work ethic” falls short in creating disciples who are aflame with love for God and for each other.

Everything changes when one’s life is fueled by the Spirit. Burnout is replaced with burning love. The heart of stone is replaced with a living heart (Ezekiel 36:26), a heart that beats for God, and thus, for all of God’s creation. It is such a passion that called me into the work of spiritual direction.

Works, if they are to be a true expression of discipleship, must flow from a faith enflamed by the Holy Spirit. A life lived from the Divine Center leads us to works that are uniquely ours to do, that God created us and gifted us to do. From such, there is no burnout, just the heat and flame of an all-consuming love. 

Coming Home

Last week I attended SOULfeast, a conference organized by Upper Room Ministries. Each year people of various denominations travel to Lake Junaluska, in the North Carolina mountains, for several days of soul exercise. We learn, we are stretched, we rest, we pray, we eat, we celebrate, we worship, we sing, we play. Children and adults, individuals, families, church groups—all sorts of folks pilgrimage to the mountains to be both spiritually renewed and challenged to grow.

When I arrived and checked into the conference, I had a deep inner peace that I had arrived home. I don’t live in the area. As far as I know, I am not related to any of the other participants at SOULfeast. But the sense of being home was overwhelming. The mountains are already where I feel closest to God, so just being there is a good head start for spiritual renewal, but that was not the whole of what I experienced. It was being with a family of faith, a group of people from all over the world whose deep yearning for greater intimacy with God compelled them to this holy place, this weeklong community of the body of Christ.

I had always thought of home as a place inhabited by folks with whom I shared a common life experience. Even in that sense, I was still home at SOULfeast. I saw folks I see there every year, some of whom travel great distances to be there. I marveled at children who had grown and changed because I see them each year.

The week did my soul good. The experience of being united with others who long for more than a casual faith sustains me when I get discouraged. I know that I will be back next year, if possible, because the connection to this family of mine is strong and life-imparting. 

Performance and Pride

“Does the LORD really want sacrifices and offerings? No! He doesn’t want your sacrifices. He wants you to obey him. Rebelling against God or disobeying him because you are proud is just as bad as worshiping idols or asking them for advice.”
1 Samuel 15:22b-23a

These words from Samuel convict Saul. Saul disobeyed, but he thought he was doing a good thing by reserving the best animals for God. When do we add to what God has directed, thinking that our addition is good? Such thinking is arrogant on our part, for we demonstrate that we believe we know better than God what is needed.

I wonder how much of our activity is done to make us feel better about who we are. When we act in a way that draws the approval of others, or do something because we think we are “supposed” to do it, are we risking rebellion against God? Are we being driven by pride? 

The Wesleyan Covenant Prayer has a line that challenges our notions that what God always wants is our activity: let me be employed by Thee or laid aside for Thee. We embrace being “useful” for God, but are we willing to be laid aside for God? To listen, rest, and wait? To be silent, to be voiceless in church affairs, to be on the sidelines when that is the obedient thing to do?

When we allow ourselves to be “laid aside” we confront just how much our self-worth is driven by our addiction to productivity. Without an activity to do, a contribution to make, a role to fulfill, we lose the attention and approval of others, and we may believe we are not worth much. But only when all that activity and productivity is stripped away can we even begin to discover who we really are in Christ. It is then that we learn that what is important is our attention to God, not our activity for God.

Sadly, many people never learn this lesson, or they only learn it when something catastrophic happens—job loss, major illness or debilitating injury, or a difficult change in relationship. When we either cannot be productive or when our productivity is no longer valued, we come face to face with our false notions of self-worth. It is in learning to love ourselves simply for who we are that we can learn to love others the way God loves us—unconditionally, not based on performance. And when we love ourselves and others that way, we are no longer driven by pride and performance but instead share and receive the grace of God.

Despicable People

 “Can you see the one the Lord has chosen?” Samuel asked all the people. “He has no equal among the people.” But some despicable people said, “How can this man save us?” They despised Saul and didn’t bring him gifts, but Saul didn’t say anything.                                                                                                                  1 Samuel 10:24, 27

The ones who failed to trust God in the selection of Saul as king are called despicable. Their doubt, their inability to see God at work, their lack of faith that God could work in and through Saul earned them a rather harsh assessment.

Yet in our culture, and sadly, even in the church, we would hold such people up as shrewd, careful and reasonable. We admire those who won’t be “duped” by “fanciful” notions of faith, such as trusting God to provide and direct, who won’t be “gullible” enough to be amazed at the way God can work in and through people. We don’t believe God can change people, that God’s nature is more powerful than human nature, or that people can really be reborn in Christ.

A friend of ours recently returned from a mission trip to Uganda, where one of his tasks was to distribute reading glasses. A girl who needed glasses to be able to continue her education came to get a pair. The team had collected glasses in certain strengths, the strongest of which did not help the girl. That morning, our friend had found an odd pair of glasses in a strength they had not collected for their trip. He laid it aside, but when this girl came, she tried the glasses and could see. Our friend had no explanation other than God, because the glasses had not been in their collection the day before, and they had carefully cataloged what they took prior to leaving the States.

Why can God only act in miraculous ways in Africa, or in a hospital or among the poor, and not in a church budget committee meeting? Why do we not believe that God can provide the resources we need in our first world, upper middle class churches to do God’s work? Why do we, the members of these churches, cling so tightly to what God has given us, as if it is all we can expect to receive from God? Why do we worship the idols of scarcity and fear and rationalism instead of the God of abundance and peace and joy? Scripture has a word for us: despicable.

All powerful God, who created all, have mercy on us for being despicable people who doubt your ability to act, who fail to worship you, who think we know better than to trust in your provision. Rend our hearts and minds, smash the idols we elevate as greater than you, strip away anything that we trust other than you. As we stand empty and shaken before you, fill us with your joy, your peace and utter trust in you, that we may be forever changed from despicable to disciples. Amen.