Have you experienced times when you were able to see your own circumstances as one small part of a much bigger picture? How do you think prayer can be a gateway to this kind of "big picture" perspective?
When I was a boy living in the post-WWII era during the advent of television, one of the first TV shows I remember was called The Big Picture, a sort-of crude documentary by current standards which revisited the war with countless shots of bombs dropping from air crafts and big guns firing tracers into the night. It was very vivid despite the grain and the picture on the black and white 21" console television set. To me, the TV itself was "the big picture" so I'm pretty sure I never understood the dramatic significance of the title.
And now, as one of seven billion humans inhabiting our little blue ball, I'm pretty sure I still don't understand the BIG picture--that all of time and space hinges on a wooden cross on a rocky hill in an ancient country during a very brief moment of the time-space continuum. Seven billion of us each thinking we must matter more than the other ones, that our blink-of-an-eye existences have some significance to the One who spoke everything from nothing. At least that's the way we act.
So can my quiet words spoken only in my amoeba brain find their way through all of that? Heavenly Father, you tell us that it can. You tell us that we matter. You tell us that each of us, like a toddler bumping into the coffee table over and over again, that we can seek you and that you are delighted with us and that we are forgiven. Of course you offer glimpses of the Big Picture in other ways--starry nights, oceans, atoms, light-years, the Wonder of it All--but most of us cannot entertain those thoughts for long before we must retreat back into our much smaller, more shallow, but somewhat manageable existences. I hope this does not seem too existential. God, you are so big but still choose to inhabit my heart. Why?
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
The Red Thread
"Prayer encompasses the epiphanies that happen during the day: turning a corner on a ski trail and seeing a gray fox skitter away, watching the pink alpenglow on the mountains as the sun sets, meeting an old friend at the grocery store. By incorporating those experiences into my prayers, I prolong and savor them so that they do not fall too quickly into my memory bank, or out of it." from Keeping Company with God
Twelve years ago today somewhere on the outskirts of Nanning, Guangxi, China, where the poorest of the poor live, a baby girl was born to a mother who for unknown reasons was unable to keep her. Four days later the orphaned baby was discovered in a box next to a deserted stand on the side of a road and taken to the social welfare institute in the city. That same day, March 7, 2000, I applied for my first passport so that I might travel with my wife Paula to pick up our adopted daughter, still unknown to us that day but known and chosen by you, Heavenly Father.We had already chosen her name, JaneGrace, in memory of my mother and Paula's aunt. Six weeks later, on April 17, my mother's birthday, we received our long-awaited call that Chinese adoption officials had "matched" our American family with their Chinese daughter, complete with faxed pictures as an infant and a toddler. She was beautiful. She still is.
Father, you tell us that we have been "known" from before time, before creation, and it was as if we had known JaneGrace, too. She had been prepared for us and we for her, chosen in you and by you before the beginning of time. We are forever thankful. And bless her birth-parents this day.
The Chinese have an old saying, the legend of the red thread.
Chinese folklore says that there are invisible red threads that connect a newborn child's spirit to all the people who will be important in the child's life.
As the child grows, the threads shorten, drawing closer those people who are destined to be together.
The threads are said to never break or fray, binding families and friends forever.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
When Words Fail
Yancey writes, "My prayers falter, of course. Sometimes I feel at a loss, and must turn to Psalms or a book of prayers written by others, simply asking God to make them my prayers, because I have no words of my own. Jesus himself prayed the words of psalms in times of stress."
Question: What fits for you, when you are longing to reach God but find yourself at a loss for words?
I find it somewhat ironic (and ironic may not be the most exact word to use here but whatever) that someone who writes words for a living, and is pretty darned good at it, would at times be at a loss for words, just like me, when it comes to prayer. I guess there is reassurance in that. But the question also has a built-in condition, that I am "longing to reach God" in those instances where words just don't flow. I have friends whom I respect that would meet such a situation by "speaking in tongues" but at least up until now, God has not gifted me in that way. Do I "long to reach God?" Not nearly enough.
The suggestion to go to a book of prayers written by others takes me back to my childhood church experience where as a good Episcopalian, I recited verbatim many passages from the prayer book, and it's from there that phrases like "the peace of God which passeth all understanding" still leap from my brain when reading Philippians 4:7 regardless of the version I am reading. Growing up as an Episcopalian, there were only two kinds of prayer, at least for me--the ones said kneeling beside the bed at night and the ones read aloud during church services, mostly by the priest. So the prayer book to me never became personal and even today I would be unlikely to go there. I actually tried recently, at the suggestion of a friend, but it just reminded me of being an Episcopalian.
Unfortunately, sinning makes me pray. Call it what you will--screwing up, being selfish, greedy, lustful (I could make a very long list here.) When I sin and I know it, I feel bad and then I usually pray. Of course it's a selfish prayer because it's all about me. But at least it's a start.
Father God, help me to pray, to long for you, to finds words fitting your glory, to know you more.
Question: What fits for you, when you are longing to reach God but find yourself at a loss for words?
I find it somewhat ironic (and ironic may not be the most exact word to use here but whatever) that someone who writes words for a living, and is pretty darned good at it, would at times be at a loss for words, just like me, when it comes to prayer. I guess there is reassurance in that. But the question also has a built-in condition, that I am "longing to reach God" in those instances where words just don't flow. I have friends whom I respect that would meet such a situation by "speaking in tongues" but at least up until now, God has not gifted me in that way. Do I "long to reach God?" Not nearly enough.
The suggestion to go to a book of prayers written by others takes me back to my childhood church experience where as a good Episcopalian, I recited verbatim many passages from the prayer book, and it's from there that phrases like "the peace of God which passeth all understanding" still leap from my brain when reading Philippians 4:7 regardless of the version I am reading. Growing up as an Episcopalian, there were only two kinds of prayer, at least for me--the ones said kneeling beside the bed at night and the ones read aloud during church services, mostly by the priest. So the prayer book to me never became personal and even today I would be unlikely to go there. I actually tried recently, at the suggestion of a friend, but it just reminded me of being an Episcopalian.
Unfortunately, sinning makes me pray. Call it what you will--screwing up, being selfish, greedy, lustful (I could make a very long list here.) When I sin and I know it, I feel bad and then I usually pray. Of course it's a selfish prayer because it's all about me. But at least it's a start.
Father God, help me to pray, to long for you, to finds words fitting your glory, to know you more.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Better is One Day
How lovely is your dwelling place,
LORD Almighty!
My soul yearns, even faints,
for the courts of the LORD;
my heart and my flesh cry out
for the living God.
Even the sparrow has found a home,
and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may have her young—
a place near your altar,
LORD Almighty, my King and my God.
Blessed are those who dwell in your house;
they are ever praising you.
Psalm 84:1-4
After reading this passage aloud, slowly and thoughtfully, take some time to let it sink down into your mind and heart. What words or images linger with you?
The thought of reading out loud brings back a flood of memories, mostly bad. "Who wants to read the next paragraph? Todd?" Was I raising my hand? I don't think so. Sure I can read every word but when everyone is listening, I'll forget. I'll flub up. I can almost smell my grade school.
But there really is something to reading a passage like this aloud, especially if you are by yourself. Unless you are a lifeless drone, you have to give it some life as if it were a Shakespearean soliloquy. How lovely is your dwelling place, LORD Almighty! That's easy to read silently, but reading it out loud, you've got to believe it or it sounds as phony as cardboard cheese. My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the LORD. Do we wake up every morning thinking this or is it pretty foreign, like French?
My heart and my flesh cry out. I have come to know a young and very talented singer-song writer who leads worship where we attend Sundays. The opening verse to his song My Portion Forever is very similar--My flesh and my heart may fail me, but you're the strength of my soul. You're my portion forever.
So again, I am taken to a song. Most of us relate much better to songs than to poetry. Psalms seem more like poetry than music, but I think that's because of the way most of us first heard them. Now there are many songs written from the Psalms. Down a little further in Psalm 84 is the line Better is one day in your courts than thousands elsewhere.
So better is one day, better is one day, better is one day...than thousands elsewhere. Words and images that linger with you. Songs from the Psalms do that.
LORD Almighty!
My soul yearns, even faints,
for the courts of the LORD;
my heart and my flesh cry out
for the living God.
Even the sparrow has found a home,
and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may have her young—
a place near your altar,
LORD Almighty, my King and my God.
Blessed are those who dwell in your house;
they are ever praising you.
Psalm 84:1-4
After reading this passage aloud, slowly and thoughtfully, take some time to let it sink down into your mind and heart. What words or images linger with you?
The thought of reading out loud brings back a flood of memories, mostly bad. "Who wants to read the next paragraph? Todd?" Was I raising my hand? I don't think so. Sure I can read every word but when everyone is listening, I'll forget. I'll flub up. I can almost smell my grade school.
But there really is something to reading a passage like this aloud, especially if you are by yourself. Unless you are a lifeless drone, you have to give it some life as if it were a Shakespearean soliloquy. How lovely is your dwelling place, LORD Almighty! That's easy to read silently, but reading it out loud, you've got to believe it or it sounds as phony as cardboard cheese. My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the LORD. Do we wake up every morning thinking this or is it pretty foreign, like French?
My heart and my flesh cry out. I have come to know a young and very talented singer-song writer who leads worship where we attend Sundays. The opening verse to his song My Portion Forever is very similar--My flesh and my heart may fail me, but you're the strength of my soul. You're my portion forever.
So again, I am taken to a song. Most of us relate much better to songs than to poetry. Psalms seem more like poetry than music, but I think that's because of the way most of us first heard them. Now there are many songs written from the Psalms. Down a little further in Psalm 84 is the line Better is one day in your courts than thousands elsewhere.
So better is one day, better is one day, better is one day...than thousands elsewhere. Words and images that linger with you. Songs from the Psalms do that.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Stopping Time
Artists often speak of their creative experience as something where they can even "lose control," giving themselves to beauty, or truth, out of their pure love of it.
Question: Have you ever had the sense of "losing yourself" while doing something you love--such as an outdoor activity, listening to music, making a meal for friends, or creating something artistic? How could such experiences become a form of prayer for you?
Time marches on. Jesus tells us not to worry about tomorrow. So does Fleetwood Mac. Remember? Clinton's inauguration? Can't you still see Bill and Hillary on the dance floor?
I've already written about poetic inspiration a few posts ago so I won't travel that highway again. But "losing yourself" in some activity as a form of prayer?
I lived most of my life in the Colorado mountains so I have witnessed the rugged natural beauty of the Creator. On a hike through wildflowers in the crisp thin air of an alpine trail, time does seem to stop. In fact at altitude it can take forever to walk a mile. But the world with its worry and fast pace is long gone, dissolved into a place that for a brief time really seems not to matter. I've often wondered what someone thought when they climbed back into their car and turned on the radio on 9/11 after a trek to the top of a 14er, a crash landing on the peace of God which passes all understanding.
But for me, the creative act closest to prayer--closest to worship--is the performance, to be inside a song, a part among many, the rhythm, the harmony, in tune and on pitch, and the song could go on forever and it wouldn't matter. An hour passes in a moment. Time stands still.
Question: Have you ever had the sense of "losing yourself" while doing something you love--such as an outdoor activity, listening to music, making a meal for friends, or creating something artistic? How could such experiences become a form of prayer for you?
Time marches on. Jesus tells us not to worry about tomorrow. So does Fleetwood Mac. Remember? Clinton's inauguration? Can't you still see Bill and Hillary on the dance floor?
I've already written about poetic inspiration a few posts ago so I won't travel that highway again. But "losing yourself" in some activity as a form of prayer?
I lived most of my life in the Colorado mountains so I have witnessed the rugged natural beauty of the Creator. On a hike through wildflowers in the crisp thin air of an alpine trail, time does seem to stop. In fact at altitude it can take forever to walk a mile. But the world with its worry and fast pace is long gone, dissolved into a place that for a brief time really seems not to matter. I've often wondered what someone thought when they climbed back into their car and turned on the radio on 9/11 after a trek to the top of a 14er, a crash landing on the peace of God which passes all understanding.
But for me, the creative act closest to prayer--closest to worship--is the performance, to be inside a song, a part among many, the rhythm, the harmony, in tune and on pitch, and the song could go on forever and it wouldn't matter. An hour passes in a moment. Time stands still.
Friday, March 2, 2012
An Attitude of Gratitude
Today's Question: What moments can you recall when you felt a deep sense of gratitude? Did it give you a longing for Someone to thank?
This one of those tricky questions. As I start to ponder thankfulness, I start with the obvious, like the birth of my children and grandchildren, the adoption of my Chinese daughters, the provision God has made for me each day. Here's the tricky part. As I begin to stretch, it's hard to find one single thing or person in my life that I am not thankful for. My grandmother Katherine who instilled in me a love of music. My brother Willie who for 65 years has been my big brother with all the emotional stability that brings. My dad Arthur who showed me the reality of how Christ can change a life. My mom, Jane, who instilled in me the pursuit of ideas and worth of writing. My dad's second wife Doris who cared for and loved my dad and family for almost half of his 93 years. My wife, my friend. My animals, all forty-one of them. Shall I go on?
What about all the misfortune that's come my way? My mistakes? My blunders? My failures? Yes, I've learned that I need to be thankful for those as well because, as trite as it sounds, they build character and perseverance. I've learned that if I am experiencing pray-er's block, I can start thanking Him. For my daily bread. For breath. For love.
When my daughter Sarah was about four, she learned a song If I Were a Butterfly. The chorus went like this:
So I just thank you, Father, for making me me.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D_7Q4erjsOM
This one of those tricky questions. As I start to ponder thankfulness, I start with the obvious, like the birth of my children and grandchildren, the adoption of my Chinese daughters, the provision God has made for me each day. Here's the tricky part. As I begin to stretch, it's hard to find one single thing or person in my life that I am not thankful for. My grandmother Katherine who instilled in me a love of music. My brother Willie who for 65 years has been my big brother with all the emotional stability that brings. My dad Arthur who showed me the reality of how Christ can change a life. My mom, Jane, who instilled in me the pursuit of ideas and worth of writing. My dad's second wife Doris who cared for and loved my dad and family for almost half of his 93 years. My wife, my friend. My animals, all forty-one of them. Shall I go on?
What about all the misfortune that's come my way? My mistakes? My blunders? My failures? Yes, I've learned that I need to be thankful for those as well because, as trite as it sounds, they build character and perseverance. I've learned that if I am experiencing pray-er's block, I can start thanking Him. For my daily bread. For breath. For love.
When my daughter Sarah was about four, she learned a song If I Were a Butterfly. The chorus went like this:
You gave me a heart,
You gave me a smile,
You gave me Christ Jesus and You made me Your child,
But I just thank you, Father, for making me me.
So I just thank you, Father, for making me me.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D_7Q4erjsOM
Thursday, March 1, 2012
I'm a Whi-i-i-ner
Today's question: Are there ways of weaving prayer into your life that you have found particularly satisfying in the past?
Today's note: We can invite God into our lives and ourselves into God's. When we do that, putting ourselves on a personal footing with God, so to speak, relationship heats up and a potential for extraordinary friendship stirs to life. For God is a Person, too, and though a person unlike ourselves, One who surely fulfills more of what that word means, not less.
I am beginning to think I sound like a whiner. Anyone remember the bit on Saturday Night Live called the Whiners. "I'm a Whi-i-i-ner."
http://www.hulu.com/watch/275071/saturday-night-live-the-whiners-at-snl
What does the question mean by "satisfying?" Satisfying to whom? To me? To Him? On the human level, how could anything I do be satisfying to God. On the spiritual level, He is "delighted" with me with or without prayer. The question must mean satisfying to me. So the answer is No, I have never found a consistent way to pray that has satisfied me. I always feel tongue-tied, even in private. If words begin to come, the thoughts don't. I've used the alphabet before, heading down A, B, C, praying for people with last names starting A, B, C but I would rarely get to D before succumbing to other thoughts or real distractions. I've tried to "pray without ceasing," but then I stop. I heard someone preach on that verse before saying to maintain an "attitude of prayer" or a consciousness of God's closeness. But when Jesus asked his disciples to pray, I don't think he meant maintain an attitude of prayer. Then there are the so-called prayer warriors. Talk about feeling inadequate. Attend a prayer meeting with prayer warriors.
To learn more about myself and prayer is the reason I am writing this. I hope by writing words down I might come to a better understanding of prayer. I hope God hears my written words as well as my spoken ones.
Then there's the subject of God as a person. When Jesus walked on this planet, I understand that he was a person, in that he was human, a God-man. In evangelical circles it follows that a person needs a "personal relationship" with Jesus. I understand that Jesus died for my sins and that as the son of God, he and he alone could have done that. He is God, he is spirit and truth, the word of God, light, and in Christ all the atoms and subatomic particles in the universe are held together. "God in three persons, blessed Trinity," goes the old song. Why am I having so much trouble getting this. Maybe that's also why personal prayer seems sometimes odd and strange to me. I am talking to the One who created the wind.
Numbers 23:9
God is not human, that he should lie,
not a human being, that he should change his mind.
Does he speak and then not act?
Does he promise and not fulfill?
Today's note: We can invite God into our lives and ourselves into God's. When we do that, putting ourselves on a personal footing with God, so to speak, relationship heats up and a potential for extraordinary friendship stirs to life. For God is a Person, too, and though a person unlike ourselves, One who surely fulfills more of what that word means, not less.
I am beginning to think I sound like a whiner. Anyone remember the bit on Saturday Night Live called the Whiners. "I'm a Whi-i-i-ner."
http://www.hulu.com/watch/275071/saturday-night-live-the-whiners-at-snl
What does the question mean by "satisfying?" Satisfying to whom? To me? To Him? On the human level, how could anything I do be satisfying to God. On the spiritual level, He is "delighted" with me with or without prayer. The question must mean satisfying to me. So the answer is No, I have never found a consistent way to pray that has satisfied me. I always feel tongue-tied, even in private. If words begin to come, the thoughts don't. I've used the alphabet before, heading down A, B, C, praying for people with last names starting A, B, C but I would rarely get to D before succumbing to other thoughts or real distractions. I've tried to "pray without ceasing," but then I stop. I heard someone preach on that verse before saying to maintain an "attitude of prayer" or a consciousness of God's closeness. But when Jesus asked his disciples to pray, I don't think he meant maintain an attitude of prayer. Then there are the so-called prayer warriors. Talk about feeling inadequate. Attend a prayer meeting with prayer warriors.
To learn more about myself and prayer is the reason I am writing this. I hope by writing words down I might come to a better understanding of prayer. I hope God hears my written words as well as my spoken ones.
Then there's the subject of God as a person. When Jesus walked on this planet, I understand that he was a person, in that he was human, a God-man. In evangelical circles it follows that a person needs a "personal relationship" with Jesus. I understand that Jesus died for my sins and that as the son of God, he and he alone could have done that. He is God, he is spirit and truth, the word of God, light, and in Christ all the atoms and subatomic particles in the universe are held together. "God in three persons, blessed Trinity," goes the old song. Why am I having so much trouble getting this. Maybe that's also why personal prayer seems sometimes odd and strange to me. I am talking to the One who created the wind.
Numbers 23:9
God is not human, that he should lie,
not a human being, that he should change his mind.
Does he speak and then not act?
Does he promise and not fulfill?
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