Definitely Pray (a poem)

I have so many questions about prayer. Like many, I have at the top of the list: why do prayers seemingly go unanswered for so many? But that is not my deepest sense of prayer. I don’t see prayer as an external change-maker, though I do think external change can happen after an internal shift. Prayer is complicated, and simple. But no matter what I ‘think’ about prayer, I find it important in my life to pray. Here I offer a poem born of reflecting on the matter.

Definitely Pray (a poem)

To me, prayer is definitely the inhale.
The drawing in of breathe.
The beginning.
Creating the space.
When I ask a friend if there is anything I can pray for her about
Her very articulation
No, the pre-thought
The hesitation
The possibility of hope, of change, of forward movement
From current reality to alternate future
Is the prayer.
(My prayer offering only affirms the powerful moment in my friend’s heart/mind/life).

To me, prayer is definitely the exhale.
It is the letting go.
The trusting.
The acknowledgement of pain.
The stopping of the constant fear.
It is the inner acknowledgement that for THY kingdom to come. My kingdom has got to go.

To me, prayer is definitely the moment in between the breathe.
It is the empty space.
Where life unfolds.
Neither as majestic as a birth.
Nor as tragic as a death.
It is ordinary.
It carries on.
It is woven into each moment.
Neither here nor there.
It is the I AM unfolding in each of us.

What is prayer to you? How do you reconcile the beauty? The poetry? The suffering? Do you find relief in prayer? What is your practice of praying?

Why do bad things happen? (and what can I do about it)

Why do bad things happen?

My most simple response: I have no idea. I resonate with the debate: how can an all knowing God permit evil? How can an all loving God allow it? How can an all-powerful God not intervene? A seminarian friend of mine suggested one has to get rid of one of the omni’s (omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent) for this debate to be reconciled.

I do not claim the ability or the desire to fully comprehend God. And so I wrestle with what I can see and know, and I accept the inner call to do something about the suffering I see.

My daughter (Miss three) said to me the other day, out of nowhere: “Why do boo boos happen?” I paused and really delighted in her question, and got down on her level. I said to her as I say to you now: I really don’t know sweetheart. I affirmed her acknowledgement of pain: “Boo boos are no fun are they?” Then I moved into comfort and action: “What is the best thing to do when we get boo boos?” And we discussed together the ways to receive and offer comfort. Obviously a frozen ice pack, preferably in the shape of cookie monster or spider man, was in order and snuggles, oh and a Band-aid of choice.

I was part of the nationwide grief in November 2013 when more than twenty people were needlessly killed. I felt pushed over by the grief, the pain, the fear of how it could be possible. As I stood on the shores of disbelief, a friend shared this idea with me from Fred Rogers: “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’”

I felt something shift within me. Instead of plunging into the horror of the offense, I could be purposeful about where I focus my attention and look for the relief. As Helen Keller says; “Wherever there is suffering there is the overcoming of suffering.”

I posted the anecdote with my three year old to Facebook and I was delighted by the responses. One friend said: “Why don’t more bad things (and boo boos) happen?” A solid question.
I recently received a bit of difficult news in life, but I find peace in not asking myself to label an experience as good or bad, but in choosing my response. When considering the question “Why do bad things happen?” What if instead I asked: “How will I respond to the suffering I see before me?”

It is my belief that my belief is irrelevant. As reflected by Emanuel Swedenborg discussing what happens after we die “The question is not asked what your belief has been or your doctrine, but what your life has been. Was it such or such? For, as is known, such as one’s life is, such is one’s belief, yes, one’s doctrine. For life fashions a doctrine and a belief for itself.” (Divine Providence 101 ). No matter how one explains the nuances of why bad things happen, the most important thing is the action we take, the comfort we offer. At times it takes a great deal of self discipline (and often the support of trusted friends) not to sink down into the horror of it all, to say to myself, “I will not despair,” though I say it feeling weak. I know, heart knowing, that there is a loving force in this world. A force I want to align with. A force inviting me to partner in the effort to alleviate such suffering. To do no harm.

What is your view? How do you reconcile the suffering in the world? What is your understanding of ‘Why Bad Things Happen?’?

[If you want to read more on this topic, check out ‘Why do bad things happen?’ http://www.newchurchconnection.org]

Our attitude in the face of life’s challenges determines our suffering or our freedom.
Tara Brach

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind” (2 Timothy 1:7).

(The Agony of) Waiting.

I have some people on my mind who are waiting. I’m particularly thinking of people waiting for medical results. However, there is so much waiting in life. Waiting to hear back about a job, waiting the two weeks to find out if you are pregnant, waiting to hear a loved one is safe, waiting for the next step in a career or relationship, waiting for your current suffering to end. Waiting must be up there with one of the more difficult journeys in life, as it is such a theme in scripture.

For me, waiting for medical results has felt akin to holding my breath. It feels like having a cement block in my gut. Waiting often plays out as believing every worst outcome will come true. Waiting is like an animal in danger on high alert with darting eyes. Waiting is an inability to face the current day before you, a feeling of dread that you can’t get out of bed. Waiting leaves you for a time (hopefully!) while you sleep and the few micro-moments before you wake. And then you remember, remember that you are waiting.

And so I have on my heart and mind people who are waiting. And I offer this prayer for those waiting:

Dear Creator,
Your wisdom exceeds my imagination. The beauty of your creation brings me to my knees. Lord, sometimes I live like I know the future and I find some comfort in that. But I’m reminded right now how I never know the future. In this moment of waiting, of not knowing, I feel the weight of every possible bad outcome in my gut. Lord take this weight and give me breathe. Help me to exhale and acknowledge my unknowing. Lord help me to breathe in possibility and hope. I’m tired, bone tired, and weary from waiting, Lord. I know this moment is fleeting to you, but to me it feels like all eternity. Lord give me courage, tenacity, perseverance for this journey. Lord, hold my hand. Wait with me. Help me to carry on when I need to carry on and help me to crumble into your love when I need to crumble. Lord, at the end of this waiting is more information, something that will impact the rest of my journey. Lord I’m afraid, but I long for peace and confidence in you. Lord help me to take the new information at the end of this waiting period in stride, help me to breathe, sit with me, give me words to reach out for help. I thank you for the hope that I feel despite these woes Lord. Please protect that hope in me and help it to grow.
Amen.

“A thousand years in your sight are like a day that has just gone by, or like a watch in the night.” (Psalm 90:4)

“Wait patiently for the LORD. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the LORD.” (Psalm 27:14)

Is God a Book?

Last night I went to a talk exploring the topic of ‘Is God a book?’.

Probably the quote from the Bible most likely to make me (or anyone) think this is: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” (John 1:1).

I was so excited about this topic as I had just been conversing with a friend on the matter. It really frustrates me when we act like God is a book. Now don’t get me wrong God is not not a book, but I’d say God is also not a book.

The footnote (from my NIV 1995 translation) to John 1:1 says: “Greeks used this term (Word) not only of the spoken word but also of the unspoken word, the word still in the mind–the reason. When they applied it to the universe, they meant that rational principle that governs all things.”

This is a powerful insight on a familiar text. If I substitute these phrases for John 1:1 a whole new meaning presents itself: “In the beginning was the (rational principle that governs all things) and the (rational principle that governs all things) was with God, and the (rational principle that governs all things) was God.”

I was raised with a deep, sacred respect for the Bible. A value that I see as worthwhile. And the same time, it is not the book itself that is sacred. It isn’t the pages. The ink. I would argue it isn’t even the message. It is How the Message Transforms You. The book is only sacred to the degree that it compels you to kindness, love, wisdom in action. (Warning: this is a risky perspective. What if it led one to believe anything that compels you to kindness, love and wisdom is sacred?)

I think of the beauty of God’s love like a sunset. I think of the Bible (or other sacred text for that matter) as a description of that sunset. Sometimes cumbersome. Sometimes not feeling like a sunset at all. Sometimes feeling like the opposite of a sunset: clinical, frustrating, oppressive. And then there are those Divine moments when one reads a description of the sunset and realizes the sunset is happening this very moment and present all around. Yes, there are those moments.

My friend argued with me yesterday (in a kind way). He described the Bible to be more like a radio that is able to tune into the radiowaves/sounds/vibrations of God. I like that analogy. It resonates in how one must take action (the tuning process). And yet, I don’t want to frame radios and put them up on my wall. I don’t want to for a moment mistakingly think the radio is the music. I think this sometimes happens when we put the radio above the music. When we revere the book, the ink, the words, above the heart of their message. When we have a desire to tell people ‘this is Divine revelation’ rather than show them how a message a text has transformed our lives, our outlook, alleviated our fears, inspired hope, compelled us to be more loving than we would otherwise.

Hebrews 4:12 says:  “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” (ESV) This is a powerful description of the Word of God: a force that discerns the thoughts and intentions of the heart.

The Bible Study talk last night, by Rev. Jonathan Rose, highlighted the many ways that things are hidden in the Bible (examples of Moses in bulrushes, David hiding from Saul, and even Jesus hiding at key moments). I found these deeply comforting.

“I will give you the treasures of darkness.” (Isaiah 45:3). Sometimes there is such an emphasis on the Bible, on God revealing things, bringing light. That the dark moments in life feel void of a Divine presence. However, this message about darkness (and many others) remind me that even as I have walked in darkness, the Divine knows this darkness and has provided it, and there is even treasures-or  perhaps the Divine -hidden in darkness at times.

I do continue to navigate life with an innate sense of respect for the text of the religious tradition I was raised in (the Bible and the Writings of Emanuel Swedenborg). However, I do not worship these texts. I do not elevate them above the moving, living presence of the Divine. Much of my faith today is reflected in the buddhist notion: “The finger that points to the moon is not the moon.”

Perhaps one reason I hold to God not being a book (but as I said before not not a book) is because when you make words on paper (which translation? which cannon?) divine itself, the power there to rule over people is startling. When you separate what God said from the whole manner in which God works (a most loving, merciful manner) you may reach conclusions that are actually the opposite of the Divine’s teaching.

Just 13 verses after we are presented with this notion of “The Word is the Lord”, let us not forget that: “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14 ESV). I do not for a moment think that the Divine then retreated back into a book.

I hear the call in my life to continue to engage these ancient texts, to hope, pray and invite the Divine to speak through it. I believe the Divine is in these sacred texts, just as the Divine is in you. And I know at a deep level the presence of the Divine through these books, and not limited by them.

What is your view of sacred text? Do you think that God is a book? When we refer to the Word of God is this a past event? Is the Word still being revealed? In your life?