I’ve recently been thinking quite a bit about the way we - Christians - behave, why, and what the reason is that we do the things we do. Amongst the many questions bouncing around in my head is the topic, why do we pray the way we pray? Where did we get the idea and picture of prayer? I can already see the rebuttal forming now: “It’s the way Jesus taught us to pray; it’s what is commanded of us in the Gospel; you are precariously leaning over the border toward heresy... careful Eric...”
I’m not quite sure I agree any longer with the idea that Jesus taught us or commanded us to pray a certain way (within reason, of course; he did outline an understanding of how certain prayer can work); furthermore, I would argue that prayer is used incorrectly and thought of in ways that create a erroneous picture of the Christ I believe works in and through this world; it seems to paint a portrait of Christ as a genie or cosmic vending machine where we somehow have convinced ourselves that we can have anything we ask of God. Additionally, when reality does hit and our prayers are apparently ignored there is a defense, a theodicy if you will, that removes God from being at fault or in any way blameworthy. “Ask and you shall receive”, right? So what must we believe if are prayers aren’t answered, if we seen ignored or forgotten? What happens when the parent we are praying for healing from cancer is not healed, but dies a very uncomfortable death?
Personally, I contend fully with the idea that we can pray for anything from God and truly, unsullied expect God to respond sending our way the desired response, object, or request. Why, oh why do we cause ourselves such pain? Why do we want so badly our God to be a genie? Why have we painted the picture that God does miracles all the time?
Could we have fabricated an idea or prayer based on what we want God to be as a god, how we want him to respond, and/or who we want God to be to us? What if the way we live our life is the most unadulterated, real, and pure prayer- what if much of prayer is completely nonverbal? If scripture does describe the God we follow, does God not undeniably know the real prayer of our hearts? For example, I’ve spend many hours of my life praying orally, thinking about many of the words I should say, thinking about the topics I should cover, making sure my words are eloquent and sharp, all the while stealthily communicating messages to the people I’m praying with, and making myself look articulate and well read.
What good is that!?! Do I honestly think God hears that inauthentic spouting off of words over the true cry of my heart, what my heart is saying below the surface of those superficial christiany words? No. I believe God hears those persuasive, smooth-tongued words and weeps, wanting so badly for me to connect to the spirit in real ways, sharing real feelings, and coming metaphorically naked before him. Enough! Enough. Enough. I desire to wholeheartedly connect to the heart of God whatever it takes. I want to know him, I want to hear him, I want to touch the inmost parts of my God!
I have been plagued with a mind that can’t unfussily accept the way things are... I want more, whether understanding or insight: I need more. I desperately want to grasp - to the best of my ability- the truth! I’m tired of the great dichotomy between what Christianity has become in America and what I think God desperately wants from us.
One of the many books I’m reading currently (oh, so many books to read and so little time to fit them all in) is Messy Spirituality by Michael Yaconelli. For those who have read this book there may be many mixed feelings from topic-to-topic and/or overall on the subject of spirituality. However, truth does often come disguised as contrary to the way things are as we understand them.
All that to say, Yaconelli uses a story about his encounter with a woman he considered “a deeply spiritual lady..” who “..spent hundreds of weeks in silent retreat...saturated with her faith... you could almost smell God when she came into the room. (p.25)” During their conversation the topic of prayer floated across the table. Yaconelli mentioned his embarrassment to be sitting at a table with a person who spends so much time in prayer when he spends so little- barely ten minutes a week, to be exact.
The woman’s eyes burned with anger. She quickly reacted to his statement: “Oh, Mike, knock it off. First of all, you don’t spend every day with me. You don’t know me at all. You are comparing what you know about yourself to what you don’t know about me. Secondly, I battle depression daily, and it has won during several periods of my life. I never told you about it. I don’t have a family; I like to be alone and silent. Trust me, I am just as ‘spiritual’ as you are. (p.25)”
Directly following this rebuttal, the woman gently added, “You think about God all the time, right? Thinking about God is being with God. Being with God is spirituality. Thinking about God is praying. (p.25)”
Though, in my opinion, there is no one way to pray or is there an all encompassing form or prayer, this statement stands out as the most basic, however loaded, way to connect through prayer to God, yet I feel we attempt earnestly to clutter and complicate prayer and the spiritual life. What if our life is our prayer and faith and hope come with the faith that we don’t need to convince God of anything through our prayers but simply trust with faith that our life’s prayer is being heard, that God will do with us the best thing for his children and our relationship with him? What if we could cut out a lot of the theatrics and figuratively and/or literally drop to our knees in front of Jesus?
What if?
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