Thoughts on Prayer

Francis Bacon said, "Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested." Right now I am chewing on C.S. Lewis' Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer. Pen in hand, I underline, pause to think, write cryptic notes in the margins, and stop to pray.

Lewis speaks of trying to pray "without words at all -- if one can really achieve it." I wonder if that relates to Brother Lawrence's The Practice of the Presence of God. Sadly, I have tried Lawrence's ideas only to fall flat on my face before 9AM. The clutter of my mind clogs the prominence of Christ all too quickly. My thoughts wander, I repeat words, phrases, ideas. When my prayers sound rote, I turn to Valley of Vision, the collected prayers of Puritan writers. Their precise language, sense of personal sin, and God's offer of marvelous mercy deepen my appreciation of God's grace. Somehow, my prayers gain more of a God-ward direction. I "grocery shop" my lists less often. I sit quietly and consider the awe and majesty due His name.

I don't want floating prayers that arise from my ideas, imagination or emotions, but I want to engage mind and spirit supported by the relationship Christ initates with me. Why? I have lived through times of using words or acronyms that became repetition that morphed into formulas. Christians desire to develop a deepening prayer life. one that truly communes with the Lord. But how is prayer done in holiness and to the glory of God? When I ask such quesitons, I align my plight with the  disciples who asked Jesus, "Lord, teach us to pray."

My quest continues as I also ask the Lord to teach me to pray. While Lewis' ideas help, the Scriptures themselves guide. As I read the Bible, sound doctrine leads me. For today, that's enough to ground me as I talk to the Lord and take the time to listen to Him speak as the living Word speaks.

Monday Meditation

I continue to study prayer corporately at church and independently from the porch of our cabin. Yesterday's sermon provided a wake-up call about the breadth of my prayers. You know. Can I pray beyond my needs and the needs of my family? And do I?
Even when I had more brain cells than I do now, I had a prayer focus for days of the week to aid my memory. For example, since Monday starts with m, I pray specifically for missionaries then. Dave and I keep tabs with some particular folks serving in the US and in four foreign countries. We email and know details about their prayer needs. However, one missionary friend, now in heaven, used to tell us this simple truth: He'd say, "What are you struggling with right now? What's on your mind? We can probably use prayer for the same kinds of things." Your kids start school this month and you have concerns about their choice of friends and the teachers they will have. The same smooth transitions you pray for your kids you can pray for ours too. Whether we have the most current letter or email, we can pray meaningful prayers for missionaries.
But the pastor still has me thinking about other countries and things beyond my immediate concerns. So this morning I stopped and asked the Lord to enlarge my boundaries. I'm not thinking the prayer of Jabez that gained popularity a few years ago. Rather, what information could I gather that would make me a more intelligent pray-er? Honestly, I did some Scripture reading this morning, followed by some listening. Still working on that.
Another difference in my prayer life comes from using HOPE. H starts my prayer with an emphasis on the holiness of God and giving Him the honor due His name. O opens my heart to present my offenses to this holy God. P allows me to praise the Lord through using the Psalms, a CD or singing aloud, and finally, E leads me to present needs and concerns for God's eternal purposes, something larger than please heal my neighbor. Prayer keeps bringing a joy in this journey of life. No one likes dull or repetitive conversations, so why offer them to the Lord?

Monday meditation

Mondays in retirement afford me the time to meditate on Sunday's worship. This morning I sat on the porch, sang several hymns accapella, prayed for a friend leaving on a mission trip this week, meditated on a prayer from Valley if Vision, and rethought yesterday's sermon from Matthew 6.
The wind of the Spirit blows across my mind, rustling my thoughts as the breeze gently turns the leaves over in the woods. Today I am processing my thoughts about the best sounds of Sundays out here. Dave and I now worship with a small congregation in Oakland; we currently have no pianist or organist, and we borrow the Episcopal Church for our services. The two sounds that draw my heart upward involve the hymns sung with harmony but no instruments and the swishing of pages in people's Bibles.
Happily, our worship leader, a frequent bass soloist in the Garrett County Choral Society, has a fantastic voice and leads well. But the richness that draws me to worship comes from the people singing harmony all around. The words minister truth and the harmony reminds us of the diversity in God's church. Different gifts can minister all week as God's people serve in various ways. And the other sound? Worshipers not only carry their Bibles, but they also turn to each passage, from the call to worship to the foundational passage for the pastoral prayer to the references made during the sermon. Like little Bereans, we follow each passage, personally seeking the truths of Scripture. The sound of those pages turning draws each heart to the main focus of worship: what do the Scriptures say.
I love the sound of people flipping pages in their Bibles! Interestingly enough, as I took a photo of my porch chair this morning, the breeze kicked in and turned the page in my Bible. Hope you have time for meditating on your Sunday worship.

And sweetly distills in the dew and the rain

You may recognize the above title as a line from the hymn, "O Worship the King, All Glorious Above." Today the rains came to western Maryland and I, driving home from having had a doctor's appointment in Annapolis, drove through sheer deluges as I came across I 68. So what "sweetly [distilled] in the rain"? Interestingly, enough, I often cast my eyes to the definition of "prayer" from the Shorter Catechism, attempting to memorize it as I drove. Having no DVD player and a limited number of radio channels provided the quiet time for concentration, and I held the paper as, phrase by phrase, I tried to cajole my addled brain cells into memorization.
The first phrase, "Prayer is an offering up of our desires unto God for things agreeable to His will," gives me pause. Precise language impresses me; "an offering up" carries more impact than "an offering." I need to trust God, believing His sovereignty knows and ordains "things agreeable to His will," events that will bring Him glory and conform me more to His image. Fine, when all goes well, but what about the 34-year-old dad who died? That death returns me to meditating and surrendering my idea of how things should go "to God for things agreeable to His will." May the rain on the daisies help distill such a prayer offering.