"Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Enter, you who are blessed by my Father! Take what’s coming to you in this kingdom. It’s been ready for you since the world’s foundation. And here’s why:
I was hungry and you fed me,
I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,
I was homeless and you gave me a room,
I was shivering and you gave me clothes,
I was sick and you stopped to visit,
I was in prison and you came to me."
Matthew 25:34-36, The Message
I spent years as a frustrated mystic. I chased hard after God, to know him, experience him, understand him. I did this mostly in the spiritual discipline of prayer. Hours and hours of prayer in all kinds of prayer forms.
Prayer times, prayer circles, solitary prayer, corporate prayer, prayer with fasting, intercessory prayer, devotional prayer, spiritual warfare prayer, praying the scriptures….I’d pray standing up, I’d prayer walk, pray laying down, pray while driving the car, pray while washing dishes, pray while in the shower, pray – pray – pray….are you exhausted yet? I sure was.
All of that praying was driven by two ambitions: to be a truly pious woman, and to have a deeper revelation of Jesus.
I don’t know how much piety I developed through the practice of prayer, but I can tell you that there were times I experienced what some would call "an encounter." That is, I’d feel a tremendous spiritual experience with the Divine that helped me feel closer to God; at times an ecstatic-like experience, but mostly a quiet sense of Presence. Calm. Peaceful. Centered.
But those encounters were few and far between. The hunt was ever on to find God.
And then one day, in my prayer time of all places, I heard a gentle yet firm voice speak to the deepest part of me.
Stop this, the voice said. Unplug this machine.
That one word, Unplug, was my demise.
That was the beginning of God messing up my religion.
My prayer life soon became cold. Barren as a ghost town in the middle of nowhere. My elaborate prayer closet, decorated with wallpapered bible verses became dilapidated like a forgotten shack.
Where was I to find God now since my prayer machine had been unplugged?
That began an arduous journey of learning to discover God in new places. Sometimes a helpful guide would come along to help me sort it out. Like pastor Ken Loyd.
My friend Ken told me that he doens’t pray as much as he ought to. He befriends the homeless, invisible street kids and hopeless career alcoholics, the most downtrodden souls of our city. He goes downtown every week, several days of every week, just to spend time with the poorest of the poor. He’s not a hero, he’ll tell you; he’s a friend. They have been the heroes to him. .jpg)
He told me that he realized that prayer comes differently for him now. He doesn’t pray with words so much. He prays with his feet every time he tromps downtown in the cold rain to give food and socks to the orphaned. His life is his prayer.
Ken has discovered Jesus in these places, in his friends who live outside.
My prayer life is still flimsy, when it comes to words at least. But Ken inspires me to pay attention to seeing God in the life that is swirling around me, in the people I care about, especially the vulnerable and broken. When Jesus told that story of where he showed up, in every example he used members of society who were the weak.
Yes, there is prayer with words. But there is also prayer in the most ordinary of ways : being kind to each other. For we are all homeless, addicted, sick, imprisoned in some kind of way.
I am willing to remain a frustrated mystic. I’m learning to let my life become a prayer instead.
Pam – Right now, I am wondering what it would look like if my life became a prayer, my reasonable act of worship/service. Thanks for being the catalyst!
Yeah, baby. Awesomeness. So much of what you speak here has been floating around inside my own head this week; it’s always a cool thing when what you’ve been thinking is there before you in someone else’s words
I do a fair bit of meditation and to me prayer and meditation are cousins, and sometimes meditation is actually prayer it’s just that I don’t know I’m praying because I’m not using words. And the best prayers are the ones without words although they’re probably the most frustrating ones to us Westerners who have tried our very hardest to distil the Word down to … well, words
Pam- as usual you inspire me. Have never made the kind of effort you describe to enhance my prayer life. I guess I knew from early on that I was too easily distracted, chasing after every shiny thought that popped in my brain. Despite my weaknesses God spoke to me and answered prayer, demonstrating His love for me right where I am. My desire now is to practice our friend Ken’s kind of prayer (in my own time an place). It’s so clear— and your story reinforces it— that we must look otherly, not inwardly to find Jesusl — Al
thanks for your feedback, guys.
i have so much more to say about prayer and my own journey of learning that prayer can be demonstrated through so many means other than words. In fact, tomorrow I will be speaking on this at The Bridge.
Otherly, I like how you say this Al. Otherly. For so long my prayers were mostly about Me. Yuk, yuk, yuk!
Sue, you are totally describing my thoughts exactly. Meditation is such an underserved topic of prayer. We are way too squirrelly to sit quietly for more than a couple of minutes. Yet wordless, silent prayer is apparently a wonderful way of connecting to the Creator. I know my words have often gotten in the way!
Glenn, not a bad thing to wonder about. Maybe you’ll be writing a segment for us sometime to let us know if anything is being worked out for you in that department.
(I wonder if blogging can be considered a kind of prayer? Why not!!!)
Pam- your words are like a wind, whooshing through and making its presence felt,and being so free. Being a prayer is so good. I hope your writing opportunities continue to expand and you share more and more of the wellspring of depth from your heart.
lol,
ive been at the park(underpass not unlike denie’s) where folks like kens prayer partners live. It is what that still small voice has told me to do.
I have not stopped my, ahem, for lack of a better description “traditional” prayer, but it has sure changed its sound. I suppose one would call the sound my footsteps and the growl of my scoots tailpipes the new sound of my enhanced prayer life.
pam
i know that you know,
you are loved..
Brother Frankie
A Biker for Christ
Pam, thanks for your kind words about me. Often, my verbalized prayer goes something like this, God, When?
Pam ,this message you shared is so important,true and justified.Quite simply, it is the way God works ,through ,us