4.3.20

Well I had all the best intentions, I wrote another draft on the 1st, but in some twist of fate the draft did not save–April Fool joke on myself, perhaps? Maybe its best it was a half baked thought, that was leading down to no true end and a lot more questions.

Yesterday I met with a psychiatrist for the first time in years, a wonder of telemedicine that I could be on the comfort of my couch and drink coffee while recounting my history of medications that have worked and the others that failed and my symptoms that have followed me around since at late grade school. It wrapped up hopefully, with a new medication addition and reminder from another professional that navigating the world on fire with additional support is good care of my self.

Since the disappearing draft I have been contemplating the crooked path of symbols of sacredness. Items that are both means of grace, but have sorted pasts of their own. I told my wife, “we often quote that God lead God’s people to ‘a land with vineyards that you did not plant,’ but if someone else planted the vineyard–that means that there are people who planted and are now displaced.” Displaced planters, those who broke up rocky soil and drew the lines, who pruned and grafted and watered and cared–these are the plans of those that wish to see it through. Yet another drinks deep.

Wine is in a lot of sacred spaces, Passover Dinners and Communion, gifts of libations at temples, feasts to celebrate weddings and it crosses trembling lips with a promise of warm calm for a moment. Song of Songs praises the Loved as being a goblet of wine. I have participated in some of these moments, I have held for a moment on my tongue the work of another. What is it to see the Divine in the glass and still to know that justice may seem off for another? Who am I to receive what the other has labored for?

I don’t have a great answer, after all the justice of food is a complicated one in our world. I know that I can make choices on what to buy and what to do without. I can hear the echos of sermons past that grace at all is given through the suffering Christ, who offers his body to feed those that did not labor, and his blood to quench the thirst of those that did not care for the vines. Sacred is not unencumbered by the complexity of our world–if anything it is a reflection of how joy and grief are not opposites but cooccurring realities–there is bitterness and comfort in every sip. So I will grieve and I will praise.

What sacred things do you find most complicated?

1st Draft 3.13.18 Grasp

Have you ever (like myself) struggled with the mechanics of prayer? How do you pray, what do you pray, do you speak out loud or listen for the still small voice of God? Should you kneel or lay prostrate or stand with holy hands lifted to the heavens?

When I am worried or anxious I often find myself feeling at a loss to be connected to God and then the mechanics of prayer become more than a practice–they are a lifeline–I am desperate for connection. At these times I have to go back to go forward. I go back to the prayers that were at first not my words but others. The earliest prayer I learned was the Lord’s Prayer and then are some point in Sunday School we were given acronyms for prayers, like A.C.T.S. (Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, Supplication), prayer stones, dinner prayers, and bedtime prayers.  Over my life I have accumulated books of written prayer from all sorts of traditions, and if you haven’t prayed prayers like this, I recommend it–they do become your words and the Spirit is definitely up to something when I give myself to this kind of prayer.

I often go back to scripture and pray through these ancient writers’ words or to see how they came to prayer. So here I found myself reading Ephesians; reading for likely the millionth time in my life the verses from chapter three.

“This is why I kneel before the Father. Every ethnic group in heaven or on earth is recognized by him. I ask that he will strengthen you in your inner selves from the riches of his glory through the Spirit.  I ask that Christ will live in your hearts through faith. As a result of having strong roots in love,  I ask that you’ll have the power to grasp love’s width and length, height and depth, together with all believers.”

Ephesians 3:14-21 CEB

This is why I kneel… it begins not with a how to pray, but a why to pray–for others, for ourselves, for all of humanity that is covered by the name of God. The writer of Ephesians is praying that the readers are given the perception, the handle to hold onto the reality of the extravagance of God. (How awesome that God is the Love, gives the love and gives the ability to catch hold of the love!?) Prayer is not a manipulation of the Divine, it is an invitation into the flood of God’s love for all of creation–we all get to be trees planted and drawing off of that spring.

Maybe it is harder to not be praying than to pray? In seems like most things the perception of my disconnection is not God’s distance, but my own.

 

via Daily Prompt: Grasp