Thoughts on Prayer

In my last post, I made a comment about praying for a parking space. A friend of mine sent me a message on Facebook about it, telling me that she uses those types of prayers as practice for a life of praying without ceasing, so when the big things come up her first response is to go to God with it. It's a great way to inhabit your life with God's presence - I will not disagree with that; in fact, I think it's a practice that has great validity. Recently, I have been trying to practice the "Jesus Prayer" - an ancient monastic practice wherein you rehearse the same phrase as a mantra-like experience. The phrase is practiced with breathing - breathe in, saying, "Lord Jesus Christ Son of God," and out, saying, "Have mercy on me, a sinner." It's an interesting practice - I managed a full 10 minutes once, before my mind started wandering off to other things. The monks who practice it "religiously" (pun intended) will say it 1000's of times in a day, spanning most of their waking hours. I'm not quite there. ;)

What I find frustrating about "parking space prayer" is when people try to control God using prayer as their marionette strings. If I am judging God's worthiness by whether or not I get to park three spaces closer to my destination on a rainy day - I misunderstand the purpose of faith altogether. Faith isn't about whether God gives you everything you want. I know some churches will teach that you will get everything you want if you ask with enough faith. I don't believe that at all. Jesus said to take up your cross and follow Him. That doesn't sound much like getting everything you want. Jesus said we would be oppressed, mocked and berated (just as He was) for following Him. Again, doesn't sound like the cushy life of someone who can pray for a great parking spot and get it because they really believed they would. I won't go so far as to say God WON'T give you a good parking spot if you ask. But to use that as a standard is a tragedy.

A few years ago, I was going through a rather tough period as Lent approached. Practicing Lent is not something that my faith tradition really does much, but since college I have tried to do something (a "give up" or a "pick up") each year for that season in an effort to participate in the suffering of Jesus and refocus my spiritual energy a little. Well, this particular year I had decided I was not going to do anything. I was somewhat figuring that I was giving up enough at that moment and didn't need to add something else - a rebellion of sorts, maybe. God had a different plan for me that Lent. Instead of giving something up of my own accord, God provided me with the opportunity to see others' pain. That sounds really weird, and trust me it was even more odd than it sounds (although in a very normal way - which made it even more strange). It's not that I could see the source of pain that people carried - that would feel like a peep show and would be uncharacteristic of God to give access to what only God should know. What I saw was like a brown aura that hovered around people - darker and thicker for those in the most pain. I saw it on people I knew, and people I didn't know... people walking down the street, and people with whom I spoke. The whole thing started on Ash Wednesday, and ended on Easter - although every so often I will get a glimpse still.

That experience was quite revealing to me. It felt like I was getting the tiniest introduction to seeing people the way God sees them. It didn't seem at all like I was ogling over another's grief. It really wasn't about the pain. With each vision I felt a deep, inner longing for that person to know healing, hope, and love. It was a feeling far beyond what I could conjure up myself - I don't typically start crying on behalf of someone walking down the street that I've never met. But in those moments I felt such an assurance that God's intervention was needed that I found myself instantly telling God about it. It was a compelling experience that drove me to a new level of understanding of the God-human relationship. It reminded me of the times it is said that Jesus looked over the crowd and felt an overwhelming compassion for them. I think that describes the experience quite well, in fact.

I have not told many people about this experience because it kinda makes me sound like a freak or a religious wacko. I'm not really - just an average person who needed to be shaken up a bit to get out of her own head for a while. But that experience taught me something about God. It taught me the depths of God's caring for others. The Greek word for "compassion" is splangthna (looks even funnier in Greek), which literally means "intestine." If you've ever found yourself feeling like you've been figuratively punched in the stomach over a few words or the action of another person - you get that feeling. It is when your gut is wrenched from emotion. I think that Lent brought me to a new level of understanding God's splangthna. And it compelled me to reach out to my Creator in a new way.

That experience also changed the way I thought about the whole idea of "praying without ceasing." Before, I had thought of it as talking to God all the time. Hard to do that when you're talking to a friend, or playing a game of soccer, or many of our everyday activities. That seems impossible to me. But after my Lenten experience I found myself understanding prayer without ceasing differently - it's not another standard to (fail to) live up to. It's how we experience the world. Do we consciously seek God in all things? Do we see God in the faces of others? Do we experience our human relationships as extensions of our God-relationship?

Wow, I could go so many different places with that idea... that brings up thoughts on Hindu spirituality and Christian sexuality to start off with. One at a time, one at a time... maybe I'll get to those, maybe not.