Prayer
Disclaimer: Since the focus of this site is poetry, blog posts will not be regular or consistent.
I wrote this in the same season as the ‘Please…’ poem, I thought sharing it might find some value for someone, especially when coupled with the poem. So here’s my personal reflection on prayer; it is not a doctrine or an assertion or an argument, it is an expression of my understanding. Take it as you will:
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You see, if I start praying, and I start to see results,
Then when I stop I’ll believe that wounds and failures are my fault
But maybe that’s a good thing? Maybe that’s a healthy fear
Maybe I should be affected by the stories that I hear…
It feels like prayer is an indicator of spiritual maturity, or confidence even, it’s like; the habit and discipline of consistently and intentionally stepping into a place of dependence, while at the same time offering and giving as much of myself as possible. It’s as if, regularly coming to a place of humility, to admit, recognize and confess my shortcomings is evidence of growth and adulthood. Responsibility. Ownership. Not only of my own needs, failings, gaps and insufficiencies, but as well; to voluntarily take on the weaknesses, brokenness and sin of others, of the world, and carry it to the altar. To intercede on behalf of, to represent, to step into the most holy place, and offer, worship, and petition, to bless and be blessed. Not only for my own sanctification, but intentionally and consequentially becoming and bearing that very blessing and sacredness for the sake of others. Stepping across the threshold from the ordinary into the extraordinary. And for a time; Being. There.
Laying down all that need be offered, and accepting all that can be given, accepting the burden of purpose and receiving the freedom of acceptance, at the altar, at the cross, in the Holy of Holies, at the mountain’s peak, where all can be laid down and given up so that more can be returned. Life can be offered and resurrected, recreated. And lived.
By not praying, I neglect my responsibility to bear not only my burdens, but I fail to actively participate as a member of the body of Christ. Denying to share the load and the burden that is carried by the individual members and the collective mission and calling of Christ’s body on earth. There is no access to the resurrection, and the life. I carry on as though this is unnecessary, unimportant, of no value, and ultimately unbelievable. I act is if God does not exist.
Prayer is… almost the ultimate act of faith, it seems. It is to connect, to let the weight of your own sin and the brokenness of the world crush you. To place yourself willingly under that unbearable burden and let it be your end. By this you become more than you are or ever could be without it. It is the choice to surrender and transcend your individuality, to submit to and become part of something greater, and let it consume all that you were. Yet, in that very same moment, and in that very same place, outside of what is known; the gift, truth, and conviction, of identity founded in purpose and perfect relationship is returned, refined, complete, renewed, re-created. Born again.
Prayer is... an adventure. It is to step from the controllable, the known, the safe, predictable, responsible, familiar, and comfortable, the tangible, measurable, relatable, understandable - into everything that is beyond. Into the Kingdom of God. Immeasurable, unreasonable, irresponsible, chaotic, beautiful, awesome, unpredictable, uncontrollable, wild, untamed, terrifying, and dangerous.
Prayer is to stand on the precipice between heaven and hell, and wait. To listen to the cries of pain and the songs of healing, the silence of depression and the whispers of hope, the anger of grievances and the gentleness of peace, the sighs of exhaustion and the breath of life, the hopelessness of anarchy and the freedom of obedience. To feel the cold lifeless structure and edifice of routine and the harmonious underlying rhythms of grace;
Prayer is asking God to dance.
