(And now it has a website).
I was first introduced to it by my father, who found it meaningful to his prayer life back when I was in high school and so, in the way of parents, wanted to pass it along to me. In true high school fashion I took it and promptly threw it out. At that point the only places I ever really felt close to God were at summer camp or while singing in the choir, and I didn't recognize those very real experiences of God as "the right kind" and so was pretty certain I'd failed at the whole God thing. All I knew was that once or twice a month I was being dragged almost two hours away to an Anglican church where the youngest members were in their late forties and women weren't even allowed to layread, and that despite an honest effort the best I could do was be ambivalent about the whole experience. Most of the time ambivalence was too much effort and I just hated it.
For my father, it was a liturgical WIN, but for me it was a complete and total church FAIL.
Cue the sad oboe.
Fast forward twelve years into the future and I'd figured some things out. I knew to value finding God wherever I found him, and if it happened to be in a beautiful old church with one priest who was a motorcycle-driving Hendrix disciple, another who used to follow the Dead and gave amazing, completely extemporaneous sermons that were sometimes kind of stern but stayed with me all week, and another who was a woman whose palpable joy in officiating Communion gave a whole new meaning to the notion of celebrating the Eucharist, then AWESOME.
Obviously that stuff wasn't immediately evident, but shone forth after I spent some time in the community. And there were lots of other things that clicked into place-- a vibrant children's program, a particularly wonderful bible study, some meaningful service opportunities, and some heavy-duty mucking about by the Holy Spirit, but all of this is to say that I'd grown up enough to give some things a second chance. Like church.
And, as it turns out, Forward Day by Day.
When I wrote about my Lenten discipline this past year, I didn't mention my trouble understanding the guide to the lectionary in the back of the Book of Common Prayer. However, based on the advice of a woman with very cool shoes from my EfM** group, I'd also started reading Day by Day again. Sometimes the meditation is hit or miss, and occasionally it'll reference retirement and make me feel instantly freeze-dried, but sometimes it is so perfect as to give shape to my entire day. And, as a side benefit, there is tiny print at the bottom of the page that tells me exactly which psalm, Old Testament, New Testament, and Gospel reading to use with Morning Prayer each day. Laziness WIN.
Today's meditation concerns the anxiety and ambivalence of a psalmist trying hard to be faithful but awash in the difficulties of life (Psalm 119, verses 145-176). This triggered a rehash of my past few days, which have been pretty crappy, truth be told. Silas broke his arm on my watch, Eva fell off the bed and got a massive goose egg on Mr. Milkweed's, and the other night Silas was so repulsed by a beet at dinner that he projectile vomited ALL OVER THE TABLE.
It wasn't so much the beet that did it--ordinarily, he would have just spit it out--but the fact that he'd crammed the entire top part of a hamburger bun into his mouth mere seconds before the beet went in. This cramming thing is something he does a lot, with a wicked little gleam in his eye, precisely because he knows it freaks me out and that I'll hover at arms' length ready to perform the Heimlich. (I haven't figured out how to pretend to ignore him while still staying close enough to administer potential first aid. I am GREATLY VEXED ABOUT THIS, people. Anyway.)
I realized today that,like the psalmist, I also constantly bargain and wheedle and implore God. The psalmist trumpets his piety hot on the heels of a plea for help, and vice versa, and I've created the biggest prayer rut EVER in my own brain by constantly asking that God's will be done, AND GOD IF YOU COULD JUST LET ME KNOW THAT I'M ON THE RIGHT PATH THAT WOULD BE MOST EXCELLENT...PRETTY PLEASE...WITH A CHERRY ON TOP. I cram my prayers with this request, even as I often over-stuff my life with "things I can do" to try and actively figure out God's will when I need to just shut up, sit down, and wait on him.
This is Thomas Merton, who said that "without a life of the spirit our whole existence becomes unsubstantial and illusory." Merton made a life out of waiting on God, and I'm pretty sure God showed up.
Instead of just easing up and relaxing and trusting that God will portion out as much daily bread as is appropriate each day, I beg and scream to be choked with a hamburger bun. To have ALL THE BREAD, rightthisveryminute.
And truth be told, this prayer hysteria is not something my system can handle. Rather than leading to a gradual closeness to the Father, it makes me shaky and overstuffed with my own fevered anxiety. In reality, it isn't true prayer. It's hamster-wheeling, which is something the psalmist and I have in common.
I've got that little picture and quote by Thomas Merton up there because I just finished his autobiography, and love him, and so identify with parts of his journey. He exemplified the sort of patient dedication to prayer that I would very much like to imitate in some small way. Even as I've written about the importance of Christian service and social justice and actively sweating to do God's work in the world, it's time for me to pay more than lip service to the fact that there's another side to the coin, and that it's contemplative. And while it really is necessary for me to actively schedule time to sit and listen, that's all I need to be doing during that time. It's not about being esoteric and complicated except with my eyes closed. It's about opening up and creating space and letting God inside, little bits at a time.
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*Helloooo, Never-Ending Story. The word "narthex," which kind of sounds like the horse that kid Atreyu rode in that awesome 80's movie, really just means church lobby.
**More about that on this link. It's kind of like bible study on steroids. Also, God totally knows my currency. I will seriously consider all kinds of tidings if the herald sports some cool kicks.
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