Day 8: Writing my own prayer

A while back I developed an interest in written prayers.  This came from a beautiful reading of the prayer of St Francis. I wanted to find more classic prayers that I could assemble into a personal collection of prayers that I could meditate on when I lacked inspiration or needed to connect to God's intention towards me.  

But as I looked,  I had a hard time finding something that spoke to me in quite the way the prayer of St Francis did (besides the lords prayer and David's confession). So I decided to write one for myself.  

I have to add that it initially felt awkward writing a formal prayer for myself.  But I found the process to push me to search my soul for those things I repeatedly bring to God,  those things I struggle with and that version of myself that I desire God to mold me into. 

Working hard on writing and tweaking over time as i pray it again and again, it becomes a favorite pair of jeans. An old stand by that reminds me of faith in all its dimentions that i can grab on to when I feel myself starting to drift. 

I highly recommend the process if writing is a medium that speaks to you.  After going through it,  I almost fell like having a personalized written prayer should be a standard issue tool for all Christians - right along side memorized scripture and favorite hymns. Having words to go to whenever you need them is so helpful.  I actually keep my prayer on my phone. 

Also... another things about a personal written prayer,  it is written in your own language... how ever you use language.  So it might not be pretty or poetic or publishable.  It's just there - words from yourself to yourself to help point you back to God when you get lost or want to remember what you wanted to say. 

Since I have been talking about prayer practices, I felt it fitting to share .... also,  would love suggestions for particularly inspiring prayers Google is probably not the best tool for the job.

An everyday prayer for when I need it:

Most holy father, 

Teach me your ways. 

My instinct is not holy.  

It is human. 

It is fearful and limited and full of good intention, but so far from your perfect way. 

Train my brain with your thoughts.

Lift my eyes from my present moment into your eternity. 

Breathe me back from eternity into your presence with me in this very present moment. 

Soak me in love ....and allow love to shake free my fears and selfish anxieties. 

Teach me again the ways of love.  

For they are hard to practice,  even harder to master.  

Soak me again in your grace. 

Open my heart to receive your peace and to send that peace forward. 

Grant me peace in knowing that you are. Beyond all that I know 

Or can even imagine... 

you are. 

Silence my heart with the gentle whisper that calls me back to who you are and who I am in you.  

 Gently hold me...

 and in the holding... 

 mold me... 

 and in the molding... 

take up residence in my life. 

Amen

Day 7: Praying with just breath

Confession time...

Breathing exercises do not really work that well for me.  

There are a few exceptions.... 

the rhythmic breath on a long run,  

various breathing techniques, which are really more instinct than anything else during labor.

A form is deep breathing to help clear my lungs when I'm having trouble... which is, ironic,  but it does work 

One large deep breath before a public speaking event. 

There are soooo many techniques box breathing,  infinity breathing, various yoga breathing practices, alternate nostril breathing, belly breathing.  To be fair,  I haven't tried all of these and they are interesting in that they draw my awareness to my body and help me become more aware of my physical self.  They help physically reduce pain,  calm the fight or flight response and increase lung capacity.

But breathing as a form of meditation has never really worked for me the way it has been described.  Practitioners would say I need to practice more. It is something that takes a long time to quiet the mind in the simple act of breathing. 

But... when I first discovered a form of prayer that uses breath connected deeply and instantly and has become one of my go to forms of prayer when I need help calming down,  managing fear or grief,  when I want to invite God to be with me and when I want to listen to God rather than gush words.

The idea is based off of an interesting but erroneous writing, which I can't figure out the source but it has spread across the internet,  as these things do: 

" There was a moment when Moses had the nerve to ask God what his name is. God was gracious enough to answer, and the name he gave is recorded in the original Hebrew as YHWH.

Over time we’ve arbitrarily added an “a” and an “e” in there to get YaHWeH, presumably because we have a preference for vowels. But scholars and rabbis have noted that the letters YHWH represent breathing sounds, or aspirated consonants. When pronounced without intervening vowels, it actually sounds like breathing. YH (inhale): WH (exhale)."

Scholars have rebutted this saying that yes,  the original Hebrew was written without vowels but that was how it was commonly written in those days.  The vowels have always been there. 

Whether it is true or not is irrelevant.  It has stuck with me that with my breath, I whisper the name of God whether I try to or don't. Or is like grace.  I can not control it. As I have life,  I'm intrinsically connected to my God.

In the dark,  in the middle of the night when I'm left with my irrational thoughts,  I can return to this.  I listen to my breath. I listen for the sound of YahWeh. The call of my body inviting God to be present with me then and always. 

As a form of prayer, I've found this to be incredibly powerful.  It is available even when I'm in pain or sick or overwhelmed. Even,  or maybe especially,  when I struggle to breathe and my lungs add a little whistle.  In those times when I most desire God's presence, there is a prayer I can grab hold of. 

Day 6: personality vs character flaws - what is sin actually

In raising boys that are wired differently I've had to train myself to re-think what is "normal" what is "right" and how we "should" live. I've also had to rewire how I talk about and address "bad" behavior. Sometimes I need to look deeper and understand the why behind the behavior and teach an alternative explaining why A is unacceptable and B is.  

The whole process has gotten me thinking about sin,  character flaws,  personality differences and our faith walk. I feel like Christian writings lump all these things together under the category of sin and simply brush it off... on one hand,  we have all sinned and need grace.  On the other hand,  we are made new in Christ and somehow can just choose to stop sinning. There is also a cultural weight in Christian circles that this person is a "good" person because they are a believer. 

Also,  there seems to be a blurry line between socially unpleasant things with sin... is being annoying sinful? Impolite? What about "lazy" people or "selfish" people.  Are those "bad" qualities sin? What about in cases where the person can't help themselves? What about days when someone is grieving or depressed? What about kids? Is it not sinning when they are 2 but it is sinning when they are 6?

Having one label for all the "bad" things that people do feels to black and white for what feels to me like so many shades of gray.  It would perhaps work to label all these things with a single label but then... the word sin for so heavy,  so terrible.  It has so much weight. 

Personally,  I'm a "do the right thing" kind of girl. I struggled with perfection and have felt this constant pressure to change myself to "be better".... But as long I've wrestled with my own short comings, the more i struggle with... "be better how?" I find this simplification of all things sin,  somewhat challenging. 

For example,  I'm loud and outspoken. Tried and true extrovert  I can't help sometimes but share my thoughts and emotions.  I've struggled with this as a personality trait that in some cases becomes a character flaw.  It gets me into trouble and I wish myself to be different. 

In years of being married to an introvert,  I see that his tendency to stay quiet can also cause problems.  

What if we could change? What if he got better about speaking up? What if I got better at shutting up? What if all extroverts and introverts did the same.  Changing that personality trait to be balanced in staying quiet and speaking up would bring everyone in from the edge some sort of social norm.  A level of social communication that is ideal. 

But we can't,  we don't... no one nails social communication perfectly.  But moreover,  I'm not sure if anyone should.  We benefit from the different personalities.  And we call this the body. Each made for a specific role. 

But then,  if our particular personality type leads to a certain propensity for certain types sins but also to certain ways of reflecting God into the world. Going back to my extroversion as an example.  I am more likely to spout off and say hurtful things.  But I'm also more likely to have courage to speak up for injustice. The practice of taming my tongue in one situation makes it harder for me to speak up in another. 

So we struggle.  Often with the same things over and over. I see Paul writing about similar struggles.  But then I wonder,  where is the line and how is it drawn? 

On one hand,  we can say,  it doesn't matter because "all have sinned" and all receive grace. But on the other,  the faith walk is one of being transformed.  

Let's explore an example - being deeply involved in a community and caring for people,  lends itself to gossip.

Well,  you can be involved in a community but not fall into gossip.  But... caring for community means having constant news about the lives. It is the natural work of a community builder to ask about people and learn what is happening in their lives. It is such a thin line out even a blurred boundary between important work of information gathering and sharing for the benefit of all members of a community. It involves thousands of micro decisions about what is important to share and what isn't. 

Or what about a workaholic. Living with deep passion for a vocation.  Some are called to do work that changes the world.  Could they accomplish it without being a workaholic? Should all of us set limits on work? What about the one who could cure cancer or grow the faith or become president. 

In a certain light, a way of being is sinful.  In another,  it is living out of a call.  I think in some way,  most of us struggle with these kinds of dichotomies.  Few of us overtly sin for purely evil purposes. But rather wrestle with the dark side of our light. Leaning in to our call while being aware of the shadow that it may cast.

I'm very thankful for grace and that I don't need to answer this.  But as I continue to work on myself and raise my differently wired boys, I do wish there was a moral manual that was a bit more concrete for how to deal with edge cases,  annoying personality quirks and character traits that both cast light and leave shadows. 

  

Day 5: Scientific Doxology

It feels like God has been reading my blog because when I turned on Spotify to listen to my new podcasts, the episode that came on what almost a direct response to my previous two posts -- It was called Scientific Doxology and was a conversation with a scientist who saw his work in science as a form of praise.  He discusses how that framework for thinking about work shapes his work and his days. As I listened I could almost hear God whisper --"What if we took the concept of prayer and the concept of how we spend our day and we combine them --- What if the busyness of the day became a prayer?" In full discloser, I didn't finish the episode, which I've linked, but it was enough to get my mind rolling.

Could the ordinary busyness of our days over time form a liturgy of prayer?

If so, I have the lament sections nailed. 

Lord have mercy (on this messy house) 

Christ have mercy (on these children who are driving me nuts).

In seriousness, I think an aligning of the heart with the work God has given me in a day and letting my actions become a movement that connect me to God could transform the simple doing into sacred doing.

When I reflect on life, I can sense moments where this happens. When I deeply connect with one of the kids, or pull out a well of patience on a day when everyone seems to be melting. When I stay up with a sleepless child and lean into their needs rather than rolling over and mumbling in my sleep. When I stay up making a birthday cake or let yet another corner of my house surrender to the project of the day and dive fully in to learn about the bug or plant or element or whatever it is so we can experience and learn together. It is deeply purposeful and in those moments, I know I am exactly where I need to be. 

I experienced this also in work. In building our startup and showing up with couples who struggled with fertility. I held them in my heart during every board meeting, when I was writing articles for our website, when I was building our test kits, when I was meeting with the app developers. There was a prayer in my heart in all the hard work that made it feel like church. 

It isn't so much what I'm doing but what is in my heart in the doing. When I connect deeply to the work of God that is played out in my life, it easily transforms my days into a series hymns. When I feel far from God or when my life feels out of step with what God is doing in the world, I find every reason to complain and find distractions to fill my hours.

I wish I could say that I spend most of my time connected to God's work in my life -- but I'm not great at this. I have definitely had seasons where it was so easy. And so many others when I've been restless, seeking, agitated. Wanted God and life to be easier to understand, wanting some sort of instruction manual for how to align myself and my life to the Divine. To be fair, I think this is exactly the lifelong work of monks, priests and nuns who explicitly move out of life in society to devote themselves to the practice of aligning the living of life with the holy rhythm of God. Even as I fall short, I think returning my mind to this as a practice could help center me and help me prioritize what I get to and what I let go of. 

 In this season, I find myself entering middle age. My children are growing. My community is changing. My career is on standby mode. I sense life change somewhere on the path ahead of me but it is obscure and hard to grasp. This concept of life doxology could help me navigate the waters to understand better, where do I go from here.

Day 4: How do you spend your day

Today, I spent mine cleaning the house, doing taxes and getting the kids caught up on missing schoolwork. It was a rather uninspiring day. Outside was gray and cold and rainy. Inside, I flipped between entertaining a toddler, helping with math and finding tax documents. This led to a daylong meditation on how we choose to spend our days -- or sometimes, how our days choose to spend us. 

Lately it feels more like the second. Emails, school assignments, work priorities, laundry, dinner, crying baby, a planner full of misc appointments -- a doctor for this one, a teacher conference for that one, some school fundraiser, various minor holidays and school theme weeks. It feels like an endless list of things I didn't choose but somehow have to do. And I wondered -- how much can I live out my faith if my life is being dictated to me? Or is it? Did I choose this list as part of a call I took on and living in response to all these small demands is exactly what it means to live out my faith? 

Guys. I'm struggling here. Which is it?

I remember in 2020, all this minutia fell away and it was just me and my babies in the house. Motherhood became raw and hard in a way I hadn't ever felt but it also became more of a spiritual practice than I had ever considered it to be as I found space to be intentional with my children and to raise them without the distraction of the outside world placing excess demands on me. 

On the other hand, community is an essential part of being human and living out our faith. Community comes with ice cream socials, potlucks, classroom fundraisers and spirit days. The anthropologist in me is quick to point out how important all these things are to building and maintaining weak social ties. The theologian in me responds with how we are a body with many parts and it is our essential call to love each other -- sometimes love is going to the stupid thing you don't want to go to because that's what it looks like to show up. 

But as I lay open my planner, I try to find mental space to be intentional. I look for gaps in my schedule and I weigh -- should this be downtime, God time, giving to others time, feeding the hungry time? Half the time, I don't even have the time to open my planner -- the day starts and I just do the things and go to bed. And I feel -- conflicted. Part of me knowing that this is what it looks like to live selflessly. To follow through on calls God has given me in this time, in this place. The other part of me thinking -- this is suburban hell. It looks nothing like the life that Jesus has called me to live.

A few months ago, I had to give a sermon on All Saints Day. One line that has stayed with me is -- one day, our planners are empty. There will be no more pages to write. Did I live well the days I had? 

Day 4: How do you pray?

There are as many forms of prayer as there are people.  Over the last several years I have come to appreciate prayer practices that are far different from the traditions I grew up with.

Growing up I thought of prayer as mostly long form rambling to God. Sometimes it was public and flowery.  Sometimes private and raw. But mostly a one sided conversation where I talk and God listens.  Then I try to listen to life and sermons and Bible verses to hear God speaking back.  

But there was also the rosary that my grandmother prayed faithfully and the Lord's Prayer that we recited in unison during service.  People at my church were into intercessory prayer which seemed to be a receiving of the Holy Spirit and prophets would both bring supplication and response in turn. And there was a few years when everyone was into the Prayer of Jabez.  

There are prayers of silence in monasteries. The physical movement of the body through a labyrinth or the stations of the cross as another form of silent prayer.  There are readings of the psalms,  singing of hymns, painting a prayer with swirls of color.  The prayer that sends us off to sleep at the end of the day and the sobbing screams of grief or despair in life's darkest hours.  The prayers we groan at the end of our rope. The silent wonder in the holiness of a baby's first breath, the vast ocean or the sacred grove of ancient trees. The prayer of just being still and knowing that God is God.

Prayer is sometimes an automatic response when we get in trouble (God, please let me pass this test... God,  please get me out of this situation) or encounter something so sacred that we know in our soul that God is present.  Other times it is a practice that we struggle through kicking and screaming... or fight off boredom or a wandering mind .... or return to again and again and again with deep longing to just fine the presence of God. 

What is prayer? 

I was talking with a friend about prayer and the role it plays in different people's lives. It was the kind of conversation that was hard to articulate ideas as we realized how big prayer, as a topic is.  What is prayer? Why do we do it? How do we do it? How does God respond? On the surface it feels simple,  but there are so many different beliefs it's hard to really nail it down. In thinking about it,  it was hard to even define what constitutes prayer separate from just thought or worship or other spiritual practices.  Perhaps many spiritual practices are different forms of prayer? Is hard for me to draw a line between where one thing ends and another begins. 

As I've been pondering this for the past few days and I think at its heart,  prayer is a place where the space between us and God narrows. Sometimes we seek God. Sometimes God seeks us.  It can change us if we let it.  

There is a lot of theology and oh, so many books written about how prayer might work mechanically.  

Does God answer prayers? 

Does prayer release God to do God's work in the world? Or does God lead us to pray?

Will God answer our prayers if we pray them more often?  

There are so many questions like this. Even more ideas about what is and isn't true about prayer. 

But I think we sometimes over complicate it. Simply drawing near to God and receiving God drawing near to us is what is essential. For we were made to be in relationship and in relationship we are changed, given life, healed,  inspired, redeemed, forgiven and made whole. How it works exactly is a mystery beyond knowing.  

This Lent, I'm trying to lean in to practices of prayer that are shaped like my soul.  Rather than seeking so pray the "right" way or in a specific tradition, I am trying to focus on words,  movements and expressions and actions where I feel that space between me and God narrow. To connect to my native prayer language.

I invite you to consider what is your native language of prayer. We are all unique wonders. Fully known by our creator.  God hears our prayers spoken or not,  written or breathed. Images,  melodies, dancing or silence. Simply being still in the presence of God. 

Also,  as I explore this world of prayer,  I'd love to hear what your prayer practices are like and how you experience them. 

Blessings.

Day 3: The parable of the river wash

The wind was blowing and the kids were chilly. Andrew had the idea that if they climbed down the hill, it would block the wind so he led an expedition with the little brothers in seek of a wind shelter. Inside the RV, I glanced out the window and watched them grow smaller and smaller as they explored the area. 

I had a terrific line of site. The area was nearly completely void of life. A vast field of volcanic rocks, there weren't even the typical desert shrubs that fill most desert landscapes. But, they kept going and as they turned into little dots, I decided to grab the baby and join them. 

The wind was chilly, I totally didn't blame them for seeking a wind block. The baby wiggled out of my arms and ran down the hill after his brothers. In the distance, I saw a line of trees. Maybe we could gather some firewood in the creek bed. 

I caught up with the boys as they climbed down into the river wash. 

Between the trees and the dip in the landscape, the air was completely still and warm as the sun shone down on us. The river wash was a stark contrast the the land around it. It was full of trees and small plants. Flowers of many kinds were blooming. The ground was sandy with an arrangement of different types of interesting rocks, drift wood and the occasional insect. 

The children were wide with wonder.

"This is a hidden gem." Andrew exclaimed.

"It is so beautiful and no one would know it is here." Philip followed.

Miles fell silent as he bent to examine flowers and look under rocks for bugs.

We walked along the river bed for a while. The kids played and explored and wondered.

Philip began singing a hymn he knew from school.

I listened to him with a bit of wonder. The natural beauty of nature compelled him to sing about God. 

It was so clear that his heart had found that connection with the creation, the creator, and his natural response was to sing. 

We can find church anywhere. Ancient cathedrals with light streaming in through the stained glass murals. Or river washes in the middle of a barren wilderness.

I walked in silence and breathed in the sunlight, the wildflowers, the still air, the peaceful exploring children and the small voice that sang of God's love for us.