Prayer and talking

I read this post and this one at Jenell’s and it made me think about how the way I pray has changed.  I grew up with the notion that prayer is mostly me talking.  It was all pretty straightforward and unmysterious.  There was even an acronym, and if you know that ACTS stands for adoration, confession, thanksgiving, and supplication, then you grew up evangelical just like me.  Putting the adoration part first always felt a bit like a little kid saying, “You’re my favorite mommy in the whole wide world.  I love you.  Please can I have a cookie?”  The confession bit was supposed to keep our prayers from getting blocked by all the nasty things we did, and the thanksgiving part was supposed to remind us of all the good things God had done.  Only then did we get to the part where we asked for stuff.

There are some good principles in there.  It’s good for me to remind myself on a reasonably regular basis that I am not God, that I am capable of hurting people, and that despite the pain and violence, there is miracle and beauty in the world. It’s still me doing all the talking, though, and I think I don’t know what to say anymore.  Sometimes I get to “Oh God” and can’t get any farther.  Some days I ask God to save us.  Some days I just say “Thanks.” Some days I sit and wait to see what happens, and either the Spirit speaks to me or I think about work or sex or lunch. 

Probably I got tired of hearing myself talk after I realized that I have no idea how prayer works.  When it comes to getting what we pray for, it frequently seems like it doesn’t work at all.  Sometimes miraculous things happen. Sometimes they don’t, and I have yet to figure out God’s system.  It seems like a lot of the time God lets the world run the way it does, no matter who it hurts, and then shows up in an unpredictable fashion. 

I don’t really buy the idea that God doesn’t give us what we want because it wouldn’t be good for us.  I know that I once prayed for a certain someone to love me.  He didn’t, for which I am grateful now that I can see the many reasons that would have been a bad idea.  But it’s not like we’re all praying for the affection of the emotionally unavailable - those prayers for world peace don’t seem to be working out too well, and you’d think that God would be on board with that. 

I’m listening to a song by Willy Porter right now (because I love Willy Porter like Rudy loves U2) and one of the verses says:

You stay here.  I’ll go look for God.

It won’t be hard. I know where He’s not.

I will bring you back with me.

Make Him listen.  Make Him see.

I think that instead of the end goal being safe travel or someone getting well or saved, prayer is supposed to be one of the ways I look for God. Maybe we talk so much because we’re afraid that God won’t listen and God won’t see unless we make enough noise to alert God to our presence.  Lord knows there have been many times I’ve felt rather desperately invisible to the almighty. 

All I’ve got to say tonight, though, is “Dear God – this is me.” 

Comments

[Nate]

Amen.

Brr, that ACTS thing. About as nasty as the Five Questions To Start A Conversation About God With A Stranger.

I've always had a kind of mystical view of prayer, I think, that it is just as much about listening as talking... but it's been a rocky and frustrating road. Even though this year I've felt the sense of something warm and quiet inside stirring a lot stronger than I ever have before, I've also felt as if part of my personality were disintegrating due to the agony of crying out 'where the fuck are you, God, and why the hell does none of this MAKE ANY KIND OF SENSE?' and hearing a big brassy silence.

Simultaneous presence *and* silence, yep, that's my screwed-up prayer life at the moment.

Still can't bring myself to reread much of the Bible without it burning like acid. Feel a bit like Mina Harker from the later chapters of Dracula, the whole aversion-to-holy-symbols bit despite playing on the same team. But I *have* been enjoying Julian of Norwich, and now Madame Guyon.

Some of those mystical classics read sort of like sex manuals, really. A very common-sense 'right, here's how it works, this is what it should feel like, here's where you might have difficulties, any questions?' kind of approach.

I struggle with the inner peace and silence thing. Silence as such, I do as easily as breathing. But inner quietness... my 'centre' is a dark attic and there are lots of eyes and sharp rakes and poultergeists. I do not go there willingly and when I do I feel lucky to escape unscathed.

[jen lemen]

well said, christy.
me.too.

[bobbie]

great post christy, took me back. your last line reminded me of that pre-adolescent book 'dear god, it's me margaret...' mine has changed drastically. and the times where i am talking it's much more like tevia in fiddler 'would it kill you if???'

[dave paisley]

FWIW, about that praying for world peace thing, it finally clicked into place for me when I heard these lyrics for the first time:

"There are plenty of people who pray for peace
But if praying were enough it would have come to be"
from "Life Uncommon", Jewel

I love that song...

[sparrow]

I learned the most about prayer from Etty Hillesum, a twenty seven year old mystic who died in the Holocaust. More about her here: http://www.liv-coll.ac.uk/pa09/europetrip/brussels/hillesum.htm

[christy]

Nate - Sounds like a "dark night of the soul" experience. I've spent a lot of time in my dark attic lately, which has been both healing and terrifying. I've found the only way past the terror is to look the spooky stuff in the eye. Blessings and peace on your difficult journey.

bobbie - I think I am the only woman my age I know who never read "Are you there God? It's me Margaret." I read voraciously as a child, so I don't know how I missed it.

Dave - I'm not a huge Jewel fan, but I do love that song.

Sparrow - Thanks for the heads up _I've never heard of Etty Hillesum before.