Saturday, November 25, 2023
(click here to listen to or read today’s scriptures)
Saturday thoughts on prayer
They tell us to pray without ceasing.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
I will give thanks to you, O LORD, with all my heart;
I will declare all your wondrous deeds.
I will be glad and exult in you;
I will sing praise to your name, Most High.
I will rejoice in your salvation, O Lord.
David, Jesus and Paul all say the same thing. Don’t stop praying, no matter what. But rarely do I meet someone who has much idea how to do that. I pray, and then stop. Over and over. How about you?
Henri Nouwen spent the summer of 1981 in Bolivia and Peru. He was a priest and occasional monk, as well as writer, psychologist, and mystic. He explored the writings of the Desert Fathers, monks and laypeople in second century Egypt who left their homes and jobs in the city (workin’ for the Man every night and day) to live “with God” and virtually no resources in the desert.
Henri had just as much trouble as the rest of us practicing this prayer without ceasing thing. The rest of us. It bothered him, too, like it does many of us. He did happen upon an idea, however, that whatever time he might make to pray, was time for God to work, not for Henri himself to be anything “special.”
Here are some wonderful words from Fr. Nouwen which give the lie to any false guilt we might feel about our own prayer times:
Why should I spend an hour in prayer when I do nothing during that time but think about people I am angry with, people who are angry with me, books I should read, and books I should write
What I must do first of all is to be faithful. If I believe that the first commandment is to love God with my whole heart, mind, and soul, then I should at least be able to spend one hour a day with nobody else but God. The question as to whether it is helpful, useful, practical, or fruitful is completely irrelevant, since the only reason to love is love itself. Everything else is secondary.
The remarkable thing, however, is that sitting in the presence of God for one hour each morning—day after day, week after week, month after month – in total confusion and with myriad distractions – radically changes my life. God, who loves me so much that he sent his only son not to condemn me but to save me, does not leave me waiting in the dark too long. I might think that each hour is useless, but after thirty or sixty or ninety such useless hours, I gradually realize that I was not as alone as I thought; a very small, gentle voice has been speaking to me far beyond my noisy place.
What Henri did learn to do, something I value but often don’t practice, is to sit, just sit, one hour every day. I have moments, glimpses, tiny-house visions of God when I take my deep breaths, when I settle down for a few minutes. The “hour” of prayer eludes me. It will not elude me forever.
God loves me, and you, too much to let us flounder around in desultory prayer. I guess it looks different for each of us, but God’s purpose will not be thwarted. The prayers I pray grow and grow, like a slow-blooming morning glory, inevitably covering everything else in my life with green and yellow flowers.
Nouwen continues his Bolivian reverie:
I do believe that he touches me in places that are unknown even to myself. I seldom can point directly to these places; but when I feel this inner pull to return again to that hidden hour of prayer, I realize that something is happening which is so deep that it becomes like a riverbed through which the waters can safely flow and find their way to the open sea.
(1 Maccabees 6, Psalm 9, 2 Timothy 1, Luke 20)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
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