An instruction from Evagrius:
In your prayer seek only after justice and the kingdom of God, that is to say, after virtue and true spiritual knowledge. Then all else will be given to you besides.
Evagrius
Need we say anymore? Let us always remember justice and do justice in all our thoughts and actions.
Seeking spiritual knowledge goes without further mention. It should be why we have our daily practices.
The man who stores up injuries and resentments yet fancies that he prays might as well draw water from a well and pour it into a cask that is full of holes. –Evagrius
That moment before you click “post” on Facebook or “tweet” on Twitter or “send” in your email app, that moment between reactive thought and public unveiling, that moment when you could have paused and inhaled deeply–what stored up injury or resentment is releasing its venom upon your friends, acquaintances, strangers who now think differently about you?
That moment when you sit to pray and your anger and hate spill over. Then, what is the condition of your heart? Is it that of the penitent of whom Jesus taught to settle things with the other person before approaching the Temple?
In that moment can be the pause where we realize the problem is not them but what is within ourselves. And how we can now lay aside those burdens and stand naked before God asking for grace.
It is that which TS Eliot wrote, “…at the still point, there the dance is…and there is only the dance.”
The ancient Desert Father Evagrius called contemplative knowledge food for the soul.
There was a time when contemplation was thought to be reserved for those who had a vocation for it–monks, nuns, recluses, strange people.
Perhaps “ordinary people” just had to work too hard to have time for contemplation. Although I’m not sure that’s the case.
We believe today anyone can be a contemplative. Unfortunately, this general attitude did not evolve from a Christian perspective, although Thomas Merton had an impact. Much of it is “New Age” which is Westernized Hindu and Buddhist meditation. Something where we can sell gurus, incense, candles, pillows, icons. It’s all a business.
As a youth, I actually never heard of Christian contemplation until I “accidentally” discovered St. John of the Cross at the library. What I had heard about was the Beatnik adoption of Zen Buddhist meditation (and espresso with cinnamon sprinkled on it). It fit my personality, this contemplation thing.
It can fit yours. 10-20 minutes daily physically changes your brain. It changes your personality. I was helped for many years in formation by repeating the Jesus Prayer–Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me. After a time you can shorten, then shorten more, until you just sit in the presence of God.
And if you listen, there will be times when God whispers in your consciousness. This should not be ignored. It is a direction for you to go or instructions on whom to meet or a nudge for awareness of what is to come.
It is truly food for the soul.
People have realized for probably as long as there have been people something about prayer.
Prayer is a lifestyle.
Just this morning, I’ve read from the oldest book of the Hebrew Bible, something from the European Middle Ages, something from the 1800s, and something contemporary. All realized the reality of prayer, not as some time and some place where you repeat words.
Brother Lawrence talked about cultivating the practice of the presence of God.
Job’s friends tore their clothes and sat with him for seven days, not in words but in practice, to pray with him for the disaster that had overtaken him.
Habits become just the way you live over time. The Russian peasant, the hero of The Way of a Pilgrim, determined to live the life the Apostle Paul advised when he had taught us to “pray without ceasing.” He was exploring just how one could make prayer an intimate part of life. And remarkable experiences came his way.
There are times to pray with intention for outcome. Times to pray aloud especially for the comfort and encouragement of others.
But mostly, let your life be your prayer.
I’m deep into another book. It’s a class on taking a spiritual journey from a different perspective. The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity by Julia Cameron.
Devoted as they are to the scholarly appreciation of art, most academics find the beast intimidating when viewed firsthand. Creative-writing programs tend to be regarded with justified suspicion: those people aren’t studying creativity, they’re actually practicing it! Who knows where this could lead?
Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way
Once I had a bright idea. Going to the senior pastor of my church, I proposed teaching a class on prayer. Actually, the idea was not to teach about prayer; it was to teach and lead to practice the varieties of prayer. The students were not to view it as an intellectual enterprise where they would learn the types of prayer–intercessory, praise, complaint, or whatever–but they would become pray-ers.
The pastor was OK with it. Half-a-dozen people signed up. They all, each one, wanted to study about prayer.They did not wish to practice it. I never tried the idea on other people again.
I’m reminded of a scene in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance where Robert Pirsig, the author, has been accepted into the Ph.D. program at The University of Chicago to study philosophy. He proposes to the department chair that he focus his studies on rhetoric. “That is not a substantive discipline,” the chairman replied. And thus ensued the beginning of a long-running battle between the two.
You see, you practice rhetoric. You don’t study it like, say, Aristotle–the chairman’s favorite.
The ancient philosophers? As much as anything, they taught how to live.
The Bible–both the Hebrew and the Christian? Oh, you can spend your life intellectually parsing through the thing getting hundreds of ideas. You can develop inane theologies, philosophies, cults.
Or you can follow what Jesus’ brother James said, “Be doers of the Word, not hearers only.” Or, Jesus as quoted by John, “Those who have my commandments and follow them are those who love me.”
I went to graduate school to study political philosophy (OK, that was a mistake, but well, I was young and stupid). We graduate assistants developed a phrase, “Operationalize your Eschaton!” In understandable terms, “Get off your metaphorical butt, go out, and do.”
Prayer is not a discourse. It is a form of life, the life with God. That is why it is not confined to the moment of verbal statement. The latter (verbalization) can only be the secondary expression of the relationship with God, an overflow from the encounter between the living God and the living person.
Jacques Ellul
We have thoughts, worries, concerns for others. Our minds are always busy with something. Even in deepest meditation, stilling our mind is impossible for long. Many think of prayer as a verbal outpouring of all these stirrings to God.
Ellul (a theologian/philosopher/sociologist whose work The Meaning of the City influenced me some 50 years ago) called that a discourse–speaking more than a sentence. But, he says, prayer is a form of life. I turn to examples such as Brother Lawrence, for whom life was prayer and prayer was life. He was a lay Carmelite brother whose teaching is found in The Practice of the Presence of God. That book, by the way, is not difficult to read. What is difficult is to order your life the way Brother Lawrence teaches. Or according to the idea expressed by Ellul.
It is too easy to pause a moment and rattle off a stream of consciousness discourse with God, relieving our minds and asking for miracles.
Return to the New Testament. Read through with an eye toward all the descriptions of people–both Jesus-followers and non-followers. Don’t look for rules and lists. Read as mini biographies. See what kind of life is described.
Go and do likewise. Live your prayer.
I’m currently reading again in the book of Daniel. I do not read it because of interest in future-telling. I know that some have woven fantastic and captivating stories about some future end-of-times. That’s not a new phenomenon, by the way.
No, once again I am captivated by stories of how a group of four friends, captured as teens, taken away to a foreign land, taught the language and culture of the foreign people, continued to live with God in the face of occasional grave danger.
The king has a dream. Won’t tell anyone what it was, but he wants an interpretation. His wise men tell him it cannot be done. The king says, then kill all of them. Daniel and his buddies learn about their imminent demise, turn to God, and God tells Daniel the dream and interpretation.
Tattletales tell on the three friends, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, and the king orders them burned alive. When the king looks into the furnace, he sees four men. God is with them. They walked out unharmed.
The king gets mad a Daniel. Has him thrown into a cage with a hungry lion. God is seen with Daniel, and he walks out.
There are more–but do you get the drift. They live with God, and God lives with them.
Richard J. Foster called it the “with-God” life.
God takes care of his part. It requires awareness on our part. Even while administering a vast empire, Daniel had a rhythm to life of withdrawing three times a day to connect intentionally with God. Jesus also had a rhythm to his life of withdrawing to connect intentionally with God.
What about us?
How do we become proficient at something?
We practice. Of course, we don’t just go through the motions. We learn the model, the right way. Then we do it over and over until we are proficient almost without thinking.
I’m thinking of a baseball player who practices catching ground balls and making the throw. Over and over until she can do it effortlessly.
The golf pro practices a shot a hundred times a day until muscle memory takes over and he can make the shot in competition.
In Yoga, you don’t go to class, you go to practice. Whenever we roll out the mat, we are practicing.
I once offered to teach a class on prayer. From the beginning, there was a disconnect between the class and me. I wanted them to learn prayer by learning how to practice prayer. They wanted to learn about prayer. They just wanted to go through the Bible or other literature and read what others said about prayer. They wanted a Ph.D. in prayer–a research degree. I wanted for them to become a person in prayer.
When we pray, we should be like the publican or the prodigal, says John Climacus. Pray simply. Many words distract the mind as we search for even more words. People tell me they can’t pray because they don’t know all the words. I tell them, good. You don’t need all the words.
In fact, consider prayer like a conversation where you listen more than talk. You only need a word or phrase and then wait on God with God.
This is the 28th step of 30. We have learned to recognize and overcome the negative and evil emotions, desires, thoughts. We have practice the good habits such as humility , stillness, prayer. Now we are uniting with God.
Practice these and see how you grow as a person.
Today is the confluence (or coincidence) of Ash Wednesday and Valentines Day. Probably a better happenstance than the coincidence of Easter and April Fools Day coming up in six weeks. (No Easter eggs for you…April Fool.)
Henri Nouwen wrote a little book on prayer called “With Open Hands.” I see it on my bookshelf occasionally when I’m looking for some book in my library. He talks about approaching God in prayer.
What is our biggest challenge in living with-God?
One of the disciplines, such as study, worship, prayer, service?
Perhaps it is the same challenge as in relationships–like your Valentine (if you are fortunate enough to have one)?
Perhaps it is listening.
We pray–but we consider talking to God as praying. But, it does not end there. Just like talking to (or at?) your spouse won’t cut it with them.
Nouwen shares a story about an elderly woman transported from home to the hospital by the emergency squad. One hand was tightly clenched into a fist. When the medical staff was finally able to open her hand, they found she was clutching a quarter. It was as if she were clutching on to her last tangible belonging.
Opening our hands in prayer is a physical act that relaxes us, opening us up to the Spirit, a posture of listening.
We cannot listen while tightly clinging to our own cares and opinions and thoughts.
We must open ourselves to the Other. Focusing all our senses. Mentally alert in anticipation of hearing something important.
We are entering the season of Lent. Perhaps this can be a time of learning to listen to God with open hands.
Prayer is not an old woman’s idle amusement. Properly understood and applied, it is the most potent
instrument of action.”
Mahatma Gandhi
“I’ll pray for you.”
My wife and I were in charge of a gate at the county fair Sunday evening. A woman came through. My wife knows her. I know the family. There is a health situation in the family. My wife said, “I’ll pray for you.”
A friend I know through the journalism community has faced severe health problems for several years. Actually, it must feel like a lifetime to him. I said I’d pray.
Then I thought, “What a great responsibility we’ve given ourselves. We had best pray.”
People of all faiths pray to their gods. Sometimes I think even atheists pray, they just don’t know to whom and probably don’t call it that. Even New Age people have their prayers.
My quote is from a Hindu who was well versed in Christianity. And a great leader.
We call the types of prayer I discussed intercessory prayers. We are praying for God to intercede into the normal events of the world and bring about what appears to us to be a miracle.
Some believe deeply in the power of connection to God and the power of God to intercede. I have experienced situations of health restored that has no medical explanation. I have a friend who teaches praying with intention. That is a good thought. Jesus would like that more modern word than he used.
Some of course probably see that phrase “I’ll pray for you” as just a comforting remark.
But do we take the promise to pray lightly? Do we really pray with intention for whatever situation we said we would? Do we accept the responsibility that we’ve given ourselves?
Gary Mintchell
Faith Venture 