Prayer is a dangerous thing. Before you know it, you get answers and instructions that you couldn't even imagine praying for.
For two days now, I've gotten an instruction that seems, at least to me, a bit ridiculous. As I've been laying in bed, praying that God will work through me and open my eyes in the coming day, I've heard "Dance before the Lord." My mind has been flooded with songs that talk about dancing, including "The Lord of the Dance" and John Michael Talbots "Canticle of the Sun"--which says "Come Dance in the forest, come play in the fields." (You can see it on youtube here: http://www.youtube.com/watch v=OGMIjwf0SVw )
Certainly, King David danced before the Lord-- the ESV says "David danced before the Lord with all his might." The message renders it as "David danced before the Lord with great abandon." Well, that's lovely. I've always enjoyed that mental picture and believed that folks shoud dance a jig of joy before the Lord. Other folks...not me.
"So You Think You Can Dance" is nowhere on my radar, because I know I can't. When it comes to dancing, I'm a frozen chosen to the core. I have no rhythm. I thought that spending 3 months in Kenya would help me get some rhythm, and at the beginning of my time there, the kids assured me they could help. But by time I left, we all knew that rhythm was nowhere in my future. I would argue that my heart is just about as joyful as anyone's, but I don't dance.
But what do I do with the instructions that have been given me? Maybe it's not about physically dancing, though if God has that in my future, I'd say miracles certainly still happen. But maybe it's about submitting all of my days to the rhythm of God's movement in my life. Maybe it's about coming before the Lord with erruptive Joy that can't be contained.
Any thoughts?
Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts
Monday, October 24, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
Friday Five: Spiritual Disciplines
From the RevGalBlogPals site: For today's Friday Five, please share with us five spiritual practices or disciplines from your experience. They can be ones that you have tried and kept up with, tried and NOT kept up with, ones that you flirt with at various times, or even practices that you have tried and found are definitely NOT your cup of tea. Let us know what's worked for you...and not.
I've spent a lot of time with Richard Foster and his list of classic spiritual disciplines (As found in Celebration of Discipline). And at various times, I've played around with all of them: prayer, fasting, meditation, study, confession, service, submission, and even celebration. They've served a purpose, but the ones that I keep gravitating back to are not necessarily from this list of "classics". Except prayer.
So, in no particular order, here are the list of spiritual disciplines that keep me afloat:
1) Prayer: I try very hard to live into the verse that says "Pray without ceasing", thus making my entire life a prayer. Sometimes, I wake up with long, formal prayers on my lips, but more often than not, I'm working with flash-prayers where I simply pray for something that catches my eye. I also frequently use the techniques that I found and loved in Praying in Color. We've started something new at church where we're keeping logs of the people we pray for, and that's been useful as I think about intercessory praying.
2) Paying Attention: This isns't a classic, but it did make sense as I read Barbara Brown Taylor's "An Altar in the World". I try very hard to keep my eyes wide open for what God is doing in the world, and have been consistently surprised by the things I see that I might have otherwise taken for granted. My preaching professor (Anna Carter Florence) said something that echo's Taylors thoughts on the subject: A preacher is a lot of things, but most importantly, a preacher is somebody who pays attention.
3) Writing: I guess this goes along with paying attention, but for me, at least right now, writing is a spiritual discipline that refreshes my soul. I am trying to be diligent about reflecting on the things that I see, and putting them in words. Somehow, the act of writing itself seems to set me free, and allows me to open my eyes even further.
4) Examen: In his Spiritual Exercises, St. Ignatius of Loyola talks about the examen, which is a means of reflecting on the events of the day, and using them to discern God's will for your future. Each day, in my mind or on paper, I try to do a simplified version in which I think of three things I've been grateful for that day, as well as three things that I'd like to do better in the future. And then it's done. The events of the day don't get to nag at me any more.
5) Sabbath-keeping: I have watched many clergy colleagues burn out because they didn't do the things they loved, and that became a lesson to me to keep watch for my own soul. A seminary professor said to us, "If the shepherd isn't fed, she'll eventually devour the sheep." I work hard at not only engaging in holy rest, but I try to carve out time to do the things that feed my soul. I read books and work on quilts and daydream and take pictures and walk for miles on end--even when a convincing argument could be made that I should be doing other things. I don't work around the clock, and I don't feel guilty about taking care of myself (at least most days.) During crazy busy weeks when I just can't make it happen, I'll try to carve out some time for myself as quickly as I can.
I've spent a lot of time with Richard Foster and his list of classic spiritual disciplines (As found in Celebration of Discipline). And at various times, I've played around with all of them: prayer, fasting, meditation, study, confession, service, submission, and even celebration. They've served a purpose, but the ones that I keep gravitating back to are not necessarily from this list of "classics". Except prayer.
So, in no particular order, here are the list of spiritual disciplines that keep me afloat:
1) Prayer: I try very hard to live into the verse that says "Pray without ceasing", thus making my entire life a prayer. Sometimes, I wake up with long, formal prayers on my lips, but more often than not, I'm working with flash-prayers where I simply pray for something that catches my eye. I also frequently use the techniques that I found and loved in Praying in Color. We've started something new at church where we're keeping logs of the people we pray for, and that's been useful as I think about intercessory praying.
2) Paying Attention: This isns't a classic, but it did make sense as I read Barbara Brown Taylor's "An Altar in the World". I try very hard to keep my eyes wide open for what God is doing in the world, and have been consistently surprised by the things I see that I might have otherwise taken for granted. My preaching professor (Anna Carter Florence) said something that echo's Taylors thoughts on the subject: A preacher is a lot of things, but most importantly, a preacher is somebody who pays attention.
3) Writing: I guess this goes along with paying attention, but for me, at least right now, writing is a spiritual discipline that refreshes my soul. I am trying to be diligent about reflecting on the things that I see, and putting them in words. Somehow, the act of writing itself seems to set me free, and allows me to open my eyes even further.
4) Examen: In his Spiritual Exercises, St. Ignatius of Loyola talks about the examen, which is a means of reflecting on the events of the day, and using them to discern God's will for your future. Each day, in my mind or on paper, I try to do a simplified version in which I think of three things I've been grateful for that day, as well as three things that I'd like to do better in the future. And then it's done. The events of the day don't get to nag at me any more.
5) Sabbath-keeping: I have watched many clergy colleagues burn out because they didn't do the things they loved, and that became a lesson to me to keep watch for my own soul. A seminary professor said to us, "If the shepherd isn't fed, she'll eventually devour the sheep." I work hard at not only engaging in holy rest, but I try to carve out time to do the things that feed my soul. I read books and work on quilts and daydream and take pictures and walk for miles on end--even when a convincing argument could be made that I should be doing other things. I don't work around the clock, and I don't feel guilty about taking care of myself (at least most days.) During crazy busy weeks when I just can't make it happen, I'll try to carve out some time for myself as quickly as I can.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Grief doesn't go in a line...
Or at least that's what they told us in seminary. Grief doesn't necessarily take a track that goes directly from point A to point B. Sometimes (most times) it goes in a spiral--sometimes you're closer to "ok" and sometimes closer to the depths of dispair. And anything can trigger the change.
I know this. Yet I was surprised when I walked into the emergency room last night to be with one of my congregants who had been in a nasty wreck that invovled the car flipping a couple of times. I was with her, yet I was also in another Emergency room on New Year's Eve Eve several years ago, where I was looking between my parents who shouldn't have walked away from their wreck. I was also in yet another emergency room at UNC, where I had to tell a woman that the same wreck that had put her there had also killed her sister. As I was watching the guy stitch up my young congregant, I was in all of those places-- places which I haven't been in a long time. Places that I had more or less forgotten about, or at least managed to bury pretty deep.
The mom reminded me of something I had felt when my own parents were in their wreck-- I was a rock until I saw the car. My dad kept telling me "When you see the car, remember that we're ok." (We actually saw the car before we saw them, per Dad's request to get their luggage and things before the wrecking yard closed.) When you see the way a piece of steel crumples-- a piece of steel that contains people you love-- how can your own strength and resolve not crumple too?
But I was also reminded how I could literally see the hand of God around not only my parents, but around this young girl. In my parents wreck, the sunroof caved in on both sides of and in between my parents, leaving only enough room for them. A few inches either way and the story I'm telling today might have had a different ending. From what I hear of the young woman's wreck, her car caved around her on both sides, except for a tiny space big enough for her. Maybe this is because I'm a preacher, and I'm pretty active about looking for God's presence in the world, but I see the ways that God's hands literally made a shield for these that I love.
I prayed with the family last night--and I guess prayed the prayer that I wish I had prayed to myself several years ago, which went something to this effect:
Living God, thank you--thank you, thank you for your care. Thank you that your hand was upon these people. As they look back on this day, may they see not the distaster that almost was, but instead remember that you were ever present, holding them in your hands. May they not remember this day with anxiety and grief, but with a sense of your peace, which surpasses all that we know. Help her heal quickly, body and spirit. Calm the fears of those that love her.
Maybe that's still a prayer I should be praying. I don't think of that day of my parents' wreck often, but when I do, I've never felt a peace about it. Until right now, some two years later. And I am grateful.
[caption id="attachment_166" align="alignleft" width="1024" caption="My parents' wreck-- Dec 29, 2008"]
[/caption]
I know this. Yet I was surprised when I walked into the emergency room last night to be with one of my congregants who had been in a nasty wreck that invovled the car flipping a couple of times. I was with her, yet I was also in another Emergency room on New Year's Eve Eve several years ago, where I was looking between my parents who shouldn't have walked away from their wreck. I was also in yet another emergency room at UNC, where I had to tell a woman that the same wreck that had put her there had also killed her sister. As I was watching the guy stitch up my young congregant, I was in all of those places-- places which I haven't been in a long time. Places that I had more or less forgotten about, or at least managed to bury pretty deep.
The mom reminded me of something I had felt when my own parents were in their wreck-- I was a rock until I saw the car. My dad kept telling me "When you see the car, remember that we're ok." (We actually saw the car before we saw them, per Dad's request to get their luggage and things before the wrecking yard closed.) When you see the way a piece of steel crumples-- a piece of steel that contains people you love-- how can your own strength and resolve not crumple too?
But I was also reminded how I could literally see the hand of God around not only my parents, but around this young girl. In my parents wreck, the sunroof caved in on both sides of and in between my parents, leaving only enough room for them. A few inches either way and the story I'm telling today might have had a different ending. From what I hear of the young woman's wreck, her car caved around her on both sides, except for a tiny space big enough for her. Maybe this is because I'm a preacher, and I'm pretty active about looking for God's presence in the world, but I see the ways that God's hands literally made a shield for these that I love.
I prayed with the family last night--and I guess prayed the prayer that I wish I had prayed to myself several years ago, which went something to this effect:
Living God, thank you--thank you, thank you for your care. Thank you that your hand was upon these people. As they look back on this day, may they see not the distaster that almost was, but instead remember that you were ever present, holding them in your hands. May they not remember this day with anxiety and grief, but with a sense of your peace, which surpasses all that we know. Help her heal quickly, body and spirit. Calm the fears of those that love her.
Maybe that's still a prayer I should be praying. I don't think of that day of my parents' wreck often, but when I do, I've never felt a peace about it. Until right now, some two years later. And I am grateful.
[caption id="attachment_166" align="alignleft" width="1024" caption="My parents' wreck-- Dec 29, 2008"]
[/caption]Sunday, February 6, 2011
Sunday Prayer
God,
Wake me up--body, mind, and soul.
Remind me of your calling on my life, Fill me with passion for these your people.
Give me words to say--not my words, but yours.
Close my ears to the squabbles, to the petty complaints that have little to do with "Thy kingdom come". Open my ears and my heart to your holy voice.
Instill in me the courage to say (and mean) "Here I am, send me."
Amen
Wake me up--body, mind, and soul.
Remind me of your calling on my life, Fill me with passion for these your people.
Give me words to say--not my words, but yours.
Close my ears to the squabbles, to the petty complaints that have little to do with "Thy kingdom come". Open my ears and my heart to your holy voice.
Instill in me the courage to say (and mean) "Here I am, send me."
Amen
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Prayers at work
There's a verse in James that says "the prayers of a righteous person are powerful and effective". Sometimes, that's easier to see at work than other times.
Our church for the last year and a half or so has gone through some sort of "winter." It seemed like our spirits were all frozen over, as was any sort of joy at being Christ's church.
But something is beginning to thaw. Folks are taking new interest in the church, and what we can do to make it more accessible to folks who haven't been "doing" church lately. Suddenly people are volunteering, and saying "I can do that." I'll be honest, I've felt a little winter-y too. But suddenly, I feel more hopeful and joyful than I have since the "honeymoon" period of my ministry ended.
I think folks must've been doing a lot of praying for this church. Come Springtime, come Holy Spirit...
Our church for the last year and a half or so has gone through some sort of "winter." It seemed like our spirits were all frozen over, as was any sort of joy at being Christ's church.
But something is beginning to thaw. Folks are taking new interest in the church, and what we can do to make it more accessible to folks who haven't been "doing" church lately. Suddenly people are volunteering, and saying "I can do that." I'll be honest, I've felt a little winter-y too. But suddenly, I feel more hopeful and joyful than I have since the "honeymoon" period of my ministry ended.
I think folks must've been doing a lot of praying for this church. Come Springtime, come Holy Spirit...
Monday, August 2, 2010
Prayer for the day
[Thoughts from the conference where I'll be this week: Writing and the Pastoral Life. I'm in rural Minnesota, at St. John's University and Abbey]
A prayer as I'm trying to figure out what it is to be both a writer and a pastor-- as I realize that I'm tired and burned out, but that there is still a longing in me for something more.
God, make me a vessel. Set me on fire.
Remind me of my calling, reignite my flame.
Give me a voice, and something worth saying.
Wake me up--today.
And again tomorrow,
and tomorrow's tomorrow.
Amen
A prayer as I'm trying to figure out what it is to be both a writer and a pastor-- as I realize that I'm tired and burned out, but that there is still a longing in me for something more.
God, make me a vessel. Set me on fire.
Remind me of my calling, reignite my flame.
Give me a voice, and something worth saying.
Wake me up--today.
And again tomorrow,
and tomorrow's tomorrow.
Amen
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