From Augustine…
“We want to reach the kingdom of God, but we don’t want to travel by way of death. And yet there stands Necessity saying: ‘This way, please.’ Do you hesitate, man, to go this way, when this is the way that God came to you?”
And from Francis de Sales…
“He prays well who is so absorbed with God that he does not know he is praying.”
A friend (let’s call him “Wade”) wrote me this in reply to my recent post on this book I’ve been reading. I told him that I knew he was right in nearly every sentence.
I’m posting this (with his permission) because it speaks to something I’ve been feeling a lot lately: We’ve got to have more positive voices speaking in our ears. Next step: Mine needs to be a more positive voice.
People of my age and younger are professional cynics. We are gifted criticall thinkers, with the emphasis on “critical”. We can raise reasonable doubt about very reasonable things with no effort at all. Webs of the negative are quickly spun, and small people (like me) who could be actively creating small waves for the positive instead just get stuck.
Adding to the mess is the simple fact that deconstruction is fun! Who doesn’t prefer the sledgehammer-knocking-down-walls role to the careful and thoughtful work of constructing something new.
The trouble is that constructing something new is what’s needed.
And that’s why I’m grateful to have voices like “Wade” speaking to me.
In my life I have run into these bigger than one man ideas a few times over the years. My tendency, and I think the tendency for most people, is to encounter it, see the immensity of it, and feel immediately overwhelmed and a bit helpless. For some reason we think that we have to come up with some grand idea that is well thought out and pretty much guaranteed to work before we will do anything. And of course this very rarely happens. So we give up and say, “there’s nothing I can do”. We rationalize over time so that we can live with this idea that it is wrong, but somehow ok. Add to that the fact that we are immersed in the system and so continually bombarded with messages contrary to what we are called to what we know deep down is right.I took a political science class on the environment in university. It was a very good class, looking at the state of the environment and politics relationship with that. It was one of the first times that I was forced to reckon with an issue that I could easily see was important, broken, affecting many people and very complex. I enjoyed learning about it, but after not too long I felt weighed down and paralyzed in what I could do to fix this. Pretty soon I was justifying my inaction with things like, ” God is in control”, “It’s all going to be destroyed anyway”, “This has to happen for Christ to come back”, etc…
What happened with civil rights in the south? A woman was tired of being pushed down, and refused to give in. Some people saw and heard this and it gave them hope. They realized they could do something as well, even if it was small to stand up for what they believed and try to stop the opression. Pretty soon there are lots of people doing this and change starts to happen. I realize this is a simplification, but it gives me hope. Hope that there is another way. Maybe I don’t know what that way will look like in the end, but I know something I can do right now that will move away from the current way.
If places like Wal-Mart engage in labour practices that are destructive- yes Jay I heard the intro to your sermon where you saw an ad in that store 😉 – I can stop shopping there. If I don’t like the culture I’m in that tells me over and over again that success and my happiness are dependent on things, money, and security, I can look for people who are not “successful”, either by choice or by circumstances. Small things, but everything starts small. Then look and pray for the next step.
I believe the Spirit that indwells us pushes us in this direction, we just have to learn to pay attention. And to take a step.
So yesterday, I had a “divine in the domestic” moment.
Needing to dress up a bit more than usual, I opened the closet. Finding the shirt I wanted in need of a de-wrinkling, I went for the ironing board. Realizing that a bunch of my shirts were in the same shape, I grabbed a handful. Turning on the iron, I sighed at my memory of what a poor iron-er I am. Tasting some success, I pressed on with encouragement. Noting that last sentence’s terrible pun, I end this string of sentences.
A simple thought hit me as I ironed. It was a simple thought because those are the thoughts of simple men doing simple things.
Heat and pressure…
That’s the iron’s approach to making a shirt look sharp. And I’m amazed at how well it works. But there are those other times. You know the ones–when the shirt doesn’t respond well, when it doesn’t lay flat, when it tries to dodge, when it doesn’t listen. Ironing IN a wrinkle… can that be claimed as a gift because I can do it without even thinking!
And at that point, there’s just one solution… more heat and more pressure.
Somewhere in the puff of the steam and the gulp of the iron as I set it to rest, that image meant a lot. In fact, it meant enough to make me wonder if God had wrinkled a few of my shirts Himself just to get me to the board.
Heat and pressure… those serve a purpose. They’re presented to iron out wrinkles and smooth out crookedness and bring proper alignment.
Can I be conscious of that in my “heat and pressure” moments? Or do I just squirm, wish wishing for “relief”?
And if I do find a way to dodge it, can I accept that the coming solution will be… yeah… more heat and pressure?
Father, press us. Grant us just enough strength to remain under the heat and pressure that You bring. Beyond that, keep us weak that we might be easily straightened and quick to respond to Your hand upon us.
All right, the disclaimer: Most of what follows is stolen. And many of those parts are worth stealing. Feel free.
“Simply put, prayer is all the ways in which we communicate and commune with God.”
I can buy that.
In fact, I quite like that because it describes a fair bit more than the old childhood “prayer entry” song ever sang about: “Let’s fold our hands and bow our heads and close our eyes and talk… to… God.”
I’ve met few people of faith who don’t confess to a struggle with prayer. Even the occasional one possessing sufficient will-power to muscle through with such a habit often wonders if they’re “doing it right”. Every God-loving individual eventually hits a cold and dry season in prayer.
What if such a season is to serve a purpose? What if it is meant to direct us towards a new place?
“It signals an invitation to deeper levels of intimacy that will move us beyond communication, which primarily contains words and concepts, into communion, which is primarily beyond words.”
What about a prayer life that is not primarily about speaking? I’ve got to admit that I’m greatly attracted to, and slightly frightened by, the idea.
But I can’t help wondering if it’s not exactly what most of us are in serious need of.
Take Nouwen’s question, for example…
“How can we possibly expect anyone to find real nurture, comfort and consolation from a prayer life that taxes the mind beyond its limits and adds one more exhausting activity to the many already scheduled ones?”
What’s the taxing part of “prayer as we know it”?
Isn’t it frequently the creating of the words? We spend our energy most moments in “making” and “building”. Then we enter the presence of our Father, the Maker of makers, and we feel the pressure to keep it up.
I’m increasingly aware of another way. Here’s a couple voices that have spoken to me about this way…
John Climacus…
“When you pray, do not try to express yourself in fancy words, for often it is the simple repetitious phrases of a little child that our Father in heaven finds most irresistible. Do not strive for verbosity lest your mind be distracted by a search for words. Single words by their very nature tend to concentrate the mind. When you find satisfaction in a certain word of your prayer, stop at that point.”
And Ruth Haley Barton…
“We are purposely not very wordy in our intercessions, because we realize that this is another place in the spiritual life where human striving and fixing can easily take over.”
Fewer words? Deeper places? Show me more please.
Why?
Because I think I’m needy of what waits to be found down such a path.
When one thinks of seeking God or pursuing Him, there is built into that idea a concept that He can be reached or caught at some point. On that thought comes this bit from a little book called “The Heart of a God Chaser”…
“Catching Him. Really, it’s an impossible phrase.
We can no more catch Him than the east can catch the west; they’re too far removed from each other. It’s like playing chase with my daughter. I really don’t have to run. I just artfully dodge this way and then that, and she can’t even touch me, because a six-year-old can’t catch an adult. But that’s really not the purpose of the game, because a few minutes into it, she laughingly says, “Oh, Daddy,” and it’s at that moment that she captures my heart, if not my presence or body. And then I turn and she’s no longer chasing me, but I’m chasing her, and I catch her and we tumble in the grass with hugs and kisses. The pursuer becomes the pursued.”
So if you’ve been seeking a touch lately, enter the game. Chase your Father, knowing that He loves to play!