The Rosary?!

Over the past year I've taken a look into a few spiritual practices to enhance my time with the LORD.  Well, technically all of our life is in the LORD.  Funny how we try to separate it out in American Christianity.  If there is a downfall in modern Fundamentalist Evangelical Christianity it certainly is the lack of discipling/mentoring.  I've complained before that it's a very arms length faith where you pray "The Sinner's Prayer" you get patted on the head, handed a gift Bible and told, "Good luck!".  When you ask what the next steps are the powers that be shrug and tell you, "Uh...pray and read your Bible every day."  Well great, thanks.  

If you're like me that leads to a sort of choice paralysis.  How do I pray? What do I pray? And how is the best way to study this thing called "the Bible"?  Furthermore, as a young FEC, you find out that the one major guideline is "As long as it isn't Catholic it's good.  If it even hints at something Catholic it needs to be burned and purged from all existence within the life of the believer.  You're safe as long as you just pray and read your Bible.  Now, run along and quit asking so many questions."

For an inquiring mind, such as mine, none of this is sufficient.  Yes, I believe Luther was correct in all 95 thesis that he posted on the door.  Yes, I believe that the Catholic church got things wrong.  However, this "purge and reject in totality" mental state of FEC has done far more damage than good.  I was talking about our church's use of an advent wreath and the reflections of advent with someone recently and they gave me this weird side glance and leaned away from me.  They asked, "Why is your church doing that?  That's a Catholic thing.   Advent wreaths aren't in the Bible."  Well, neither are Christmas trees, exchanging presents or Santa Claus but they swallow that wholesale.  As I write this I notice that they seem quite content to embrace some catholic things embraced by the world and not others...but that's another rant for another time.  

The Catholicism-phobia has been to the universal church's detriment in many ways but particularly in the spiritual disciplines.  There are many practices that get derided as mysticism...but I'm fairly comfortable with a few of them.  "Here's how you do this," is a much more manageable and adaptable system than "Pray whenever you want and read the Bible...if you get around to it.  Your name is down in the Book of Life so I wouldn't worry about it too much" and it produces far more reliable results. Now is where I get to the uncomfortable bit on which I'm certain I will be challenged or at least looked at sideways and leaned back away from.

A long time ago I went to the oldest church in the New World, a small Catholic outpost in Puerto Rico that holds the remains of Ponce De Leon.  I literally almost bumped into De Leon's remains because I was amazed by this place.  One of my interesting attributes is a get a literal high from encountering history in the flesh, as it were, and this was no exception.  I knew that I had to get something to commemorate the occasion, so I purchased a wooden rosary that was supposedly fashioned from wood culled from the Holy Land itself.  I don't necessarily believe that nor do I believe such wood confers any special powers upon it.  

It's been over a decade since that day and this year I was researching different Catholic spiritual practices and naturally praying the rosary came up.  I rolled my eyes a bit at first.  Praying to Mary has never been a practice that I could get my mind around.  I mean, why pray to her when Jesus is our high priest and we have a direct line?  And using it to reduce my sins?  Sola Fide!  But then I was thinking about Luther and how he was Catholic.  My mind connected that to the idea that he likely used a rosary and then to wondering if he used the ritual but re-purposed it.  

As it turns out, whether he re-purposed it himself or not, there is a Lutheran way to pray the rosary and it has been quite a benefit to me.  Now, I understand that this may offend my Catholic friends out there.  I love you.  I am sorry to offend.  But if it glorifies God and brings me closer to Him then isn't that a good thing?  Also, I understand this may seriously offend my FEC friends out there.  I love you.  I am sorry to offend.  But if it glorifies God and brings me closer to Him then isn't that a good thing?  It's not like I'm re-purposing Yoga here.  

Essentially the Lutheran rosary is prayed like this:  First, you clutch the cross and speak the Apostle's Creed.  The first big bead you come to you pray the "Our Father".  For each little bead you pray, "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner."  The next big bead you pray the "Gloria Patri".  "Glory be to the Father, to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost.  As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be.  Amen."  So, on the big beads you alternate the "Our Father" and the "Gloria Patri" with the "Jesus Prayer" in between.  You all the way around, come back to the cross and pray "The Magnificat".  I know that "Magnificat" is a big scary Catholic sounding word, but it is simply the prayer Mary prayed upon hearing from the angel that she would bear the Christ child.  Deep breath; it's going to be OK.  In fact I fall more and more in love with that prayer.  It declares so much of who God is, His nature and intent, that it blows me away.  But, I digress...surprise...

All of this can be found in this handy online guide HERE.

So, what has been the effect of this "Catholic thingy"?  A much deeper sense of my place in things and God's place in all of history and creation.  

Naturally my Protestant brain recoiled at the repetition of prayers which many of my folk consider "vain" and prohibited.  The point for me is not that I think these prayers earn me any sort of favors with God.  I don't believe that the effort of doing what I should already be doing, praying, is working off my sins (Sola Fide after all).  What I discovered is that as I pray the same prayer again and again it starts to resonate; I start to think and feel the words rather than rattling them off my lips the same way I tell someone my address or cell number.  It's easy to be flippant with prayers and forget what we said like so much verbal mist.  

Repeating a prayer takes you to another level of understanding and meaning.  I can't pray, "...have mercy on me, a sinner" without reflecting on the fact that I desperately need mercy and that I am, in fact, a sinner.  (Some FEC would want to say here that Jesus took on all our sin so we don't need to think, talk about, or reflect on our sinful state and I say, "Woah, there, Scooter.  Might want to dig into that Bible a little more before you minimize a thing that big.")  I can't pray the "Our Father" over and over again without reflecting on how my entire existence and well-being hangs on who He is and what He has done.  How can I pray "and forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us" repeatedly and not have it impressed on me that there is a connection between how much I forgive and how much is forgiven me?  That my daily bread comes not from my effort but from His generosity?  That I must surrender MY will, that it is HIS will that should be done?  And I cannot get over every time I pray the "Gloria Patri" that I am exalting the LORD in unison with the angels in heaven.  Me, this little lowly, sin riddled, thing of mud and dust is singing to Him the same praise no matter what circumstances I'm going through.  In trial and in comfort it is the same words coming out of my mouth straight to Him, "Glory be..."  

How could anyone not benefit from this repetition?  When I look at it in it's basic parts, the rosary is a tool for praying scripture; for praying prayers that are actually in the Bible.  If we get over our Protestant snobbery (and I'm convicting myself in that more than anyone else) I don't think we can say that in and of itself it's a useless or terrible thing.  We learn scripture, memorize by repeating, so that we may "hide it in my heart so that I might not sin against You".  And, if we're being honest, most of us train our children to do that, but we leave off ourselves because we are "too busy".  But, another digression...surprise...

In the end I think it's important to remember that Luther did not want to split off from the Catholic church.  He saw much good there.  He simply wanted to reform certain parts like the selling and buying of plenary indulgences.  Successive generations of Protestants have treated all things Catholic like the plague...liturgy is even shunned by many which boggles my mind.  Speaking out, in unison, the words of scripture?  I even met a man who got offended that the congregation was called upon to speak the words of the Apostle's Creed in unison because "that's a Catholic thing to do".  There are things I disagree with in Catholic practices as well, but throwing the baby out with the bath water is ridiculous.  We can take the time to judge rightly with scripture as our guide.  Many of us are sensible people.  

So, to sum up (Which I have tried to do for a few paragraphs now but...squirrel!), I would encourage people to try praying the Lutheran rosary.  It has been of significant benefit to myself...even if it may send Calvin spinning in his grave. ;)

Pax,

W

Lurking in the Silences

So, I've been places, I've done things, and now I'm back.  Hopefully that's good enough because I'm not a fan of making excuses and I really have gone and done so much, changed so very much, in ways that only a Living God could do in me.  It will all come out in drips and drabs through the things I'll be relating now and in the future, I'm sure.

The beginning of all the changes came when the LORD brought me to a therapist a few months ago.  I was stuck.  I was in a depressive spiral that nothing could seem to pull me through or out of.  I prayed and received my answer of 2 people, one who knows me intimately and one who didn't know me from Adam, saying "Yeah, you might want to talk to a professional about that."  So, recognizing it for what it was, I submitted myself to His greater wisdom.

I've never really had a problem admitting when I need help.  I've always been quick to read that marriage book, talk to the pastor or get a relationship counselor.  It seems ridiculous to me to waste time not reaching out when help is available.  My only concern on this one was money.  Therapists, and good ones, are fairly notoriously expensive.  Fortunately my insurance covered it (uh...actually Thanks, Obama...) and I was able to find an excellent Christian therapist.  It took 8 or so visits for us to come to the real crux of the issue and it felt like a tree of bitterness had been pulled out by the roots... and then everything changed.  It was, no joke, like the LORD leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Buckle up, buttercup," because over the next few weeks He went to work on me.  I seriously had a friend who has some prophetic gifting message me and say, "Uh, I don't know why, but the Lord says to tell you to relax, let go, and whatever is going to happen is going to be good, no matter how scary it might look."  They had no idea my situation at all and the timing was spot on.

I have grown in Christ more in the past two weeks than probably the past three years and, as things of the Spirit often are, it is very hard to describe.  So much has changed.  How I react to stressors, how I relate to my kids, my wife, the LORD Himself, and most surprising of all is how I feel about my writing has all changed.

There was a hole, as there usually is when a tree is uprooted, that I could sense in the Spirit.  I knew that I needed to fill it in or another tree would take its place or even the same one as before.  So, I asked around to the important people in my life who were also Christ followers what it was was that they do for their devotions.  I needed to fill that hole left behind with a spiritual practice.  I was already reading my Bible and praying but something else needed to be added.

My spiritual mentor told me about how she wakes early every day and listens for God.  We spend so much of our Christian walk talking to/at God and hardly any time listening intently.  So, I woke up at 5 am, told the LORD what I was up to and waited.  What happened was almost indescribable.  I guess the easiest way to say it is that I have a renewed sense of His constant presence.  Most of that first session and some of those after (I have in fact been up at 5 every morning for this ever since) I'm pretty sure was the Holy Spirit rifling through my sub conscious going, "Don't need this...don't need this...this shouldn't have ever been here in the first place...I know I didn't put this here so out it goes..." And life has been so different.  Peace.  Joy.  I was so the opposite of depressed that I put my therapy sessions on hold indefinitely.  I'm react so much more readily with care and compassion.  And the best part is I know that it's not because of me.  When I studied Zen, Paganism, Kabbalah back in my wild youth it was all about my performance which led to pride and ego inflation and looking down at those "less spiritual" than I.  This?  He is doing the heavy lifting, making the changes, and causing the things within me to become more and more like His Son, Jesus Christ.  I couldn't force this change if I tried.

Now, that is all setup for what I wanted to say in this entry: He is in the silences waiting for you.

We spend so much time watching movies, playing video games, filling our lives with entertainment, noise and distractions; so much so that we almost have to yell at each other just to be heard.  And yes, from time to time God will "yell" at us.  We get in the car turn on the radio, we have our eyes pulled away from the road and each other by notifications on our phone and we want to send the kids to this or that and then we've got to do drive thru on the way home and we are so wound up or are done with the kids that we put them in front of the TV while they eat and then we can't wait to get them to bed so we can have time with our spouse to watch that one show which we then binge too late into the night and we sleep 6 hours and then hit the snooze button too many times and then have to scramble to get the kids to school and ourselves to work, and then when we get done with work we get in the car, we turn on the radio...and then wonder "Why don't I hear anything from God in my life?? Why is He silent?!?!"  (and just so we're clear...this was me, not me judging someone else)

What I have found is that the Lord is a lion lurking in the silences.  He is a still small voice waiting to pounce and in modern society we give Him less and less opportunity.  We have to make the opportunity.  You have to carve out time with a machete if you want to hear Him, hack away at the idols in our own lives, and one of the hardest idols to slash is our self.

I didn't want to do this.  I didn't want to wake up faithfully every day at 5 and if He hadn't actually led me there during a period of transition I don't know that I would have done it at all.  I would be on the same vicious cycle of distracting myself and wondering if He was even listening at all when it was me who didn't care to listen.

The World will make the most of any opportunity to push back, to drop a crisis in our lap, to distract us with a phone notification, pull us into being emotionally explosive about some political thing done by people who don't even know or care that you actually exist but you care so greatly about though you have no effect, because if you have even 10 minutes of silence, 10 minutes to breathe, the Lord will pounce.  I do not doubt that this is the reality one bit.  (again...because this was me)

When we look at the Biblical vision of Sabbath it is with the intention of God's people having rest, quiet, peace.  That is where I truly believe God really operates on people.

When do most major changes in people's lives happen?  When a heart attack or something major malady puts them in the hospital and all they have is time to look, breathe, think, and reassess...or watch daytime TV which ultimately gets people to turn that off as well.  He is there, lurking in the rest and in the silence, waiting for the opportunity to leap/pounce into the lives of His people.

The Bible is full of references to testing the Lord's promises, invitations to "taste and see", and that is one of the most life changing things you'll ever do...because when God basically says, "C'mon...I dare you..." (and believe me, that's what "taste and see" is...a Holy dare) He's always going to do exactly what He said He would do.

Pax,

W

On Lent : Plucking out an eye...

I remember the first time I heard someone explain the very colorful passage where Jesus declares that if your eye offends/causes you to sin then gouge it out (Matt 5:29 and then again in Matt 18:9.  My father had a friend from work over to dinner and he knew we were Christians.  The man was "Christ Curious" and asked my dad what the passage meant.  Was Jesus serious?  If so, my dad's friend related, he'd be a blind, mute, paraplegic before the week was through.   I laughed heartily, but it stuck with me.  It is such a vivid image.  My father went on to explain it was, naturally, Jesus being hyperbolic to establish how seriously God takes sin and, by extension, how seriously we should treat sin.

This Saturday (Hurrah for Saturday Evening church) our Pastor's homily/sermon (Is it "homily" in Presbyterian circles?  I know it can be for Catholics...bah...) was on the basics of what Lent is all about.  He said, "Lent forces us to ask the question, 'What does it mean to be a disciple of Jesus Christ?'".  The text was from Mark 8 where Jesus declares his own impending death.  Peter takes Jesus aside and rebukes him for saying he's going to die.  (Seriously...Peter rebuking Jesus...whew...) Jesus turns around and rebukes Peter by calling him Satan.  Seriously.  He calls him Satan.  And then he makes a statement that, because of the multi-millenia distance, sounds innocuous to us.

"Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me."

Let that sink in.  Let that REALLY sink in.  Forget that we wear crosses as jewelry.  Forget every time you've seen them in the sanctuary of your local church.  Forget that you know the end of each gospel.  What is a cross?  What was a cross to them?

It was a horribly unclean implement of torture used upon criminals originated in its use by an oppressive gentile regime.

Pick up my cross?  Really Jesus?  What the heck are you talking about?  I'm not condemned to die.  I'm not an unclean law breaker.  Did you eat some bad Matzo or something?  You're talking crazy, dude.  Maybe you should take a nap and we'll clarify that later.  Let's get you out of the sun there, Mister Messiah, OK?

If they could see us from then to now and saw the representation of the cross in our churches, around our necks, tattooed on our arms, on our Bibles, as decals on our vehicles, I'm fairly certain they would throw up in their mouths a little.  It was that repulsive to them.  We're talking on the order of when Jesus declared that if they wanted to be saved then they needed to eat his flesh and drink his blood.  It cost him a lot of disciples.

This was, of course, Jesus speaking outside of time already knowing what was to come.  But what is the cross we are called to carry?

It is not the things we give up for Lent.  As difficult as that is, and the sugar cravings are pretty darn bad over here, it is not our "cross".  Difficulties, disease, pain, problematic relationships, etc...I don't think that these are "the cross we have to bear".  Sure, they are less than pleasant to go through, but I think there is a bigger meaning here.

I like how The Voice puts it, "If any of you wants to follow Me, you will have to give yourself up to God's plan..."

HIS plan no matter what it is, the cost, or what might happen as a result.  Can you trust God's plan to death?  I find it to be pretty easy to say, "Yes.  In a renounce Jesus or die situation I would choose death."  It is harder when you add torture to the mix.  If you add public humiliation and shaming to it then I'm even less likely to be OK with the divine plan.  How about working for no visible result and still putting in the time day after day?  I often ask people, "What if God's "great and mighty" plan for you is to be a janitor?  Or a stay at home parent?  What if it's to work your 9-5 with no recognition?  Would you deny yourself and give your all for His will?"  I'm always surprised how many people discount that possibility.  They brush it aside with some personal assurance that whatever God has for them is FAR more glorious than something so petty or humble...forgetting, of course, that the least will be greatest and the last first in Jesus' upside down rule that declares us all to be servants and subservient to one another.

A cross, at least in my eyes, matches Jesus' path.  "I really would rather not have to suffer living through to this plan you have set before me...but, nevertheless, Your will be done."

The things we give up for Lent, I'm realizing, has more to do with the eye-gouging.  What I give up offends me, is bad for me, is going to ultimately kill me or my relationship to God.  I'm startlingly aware of why Jesus refers to these things in our life that offend as "body parts".  We love them like they are.  We take our sins or other negative behaviors and we clutch them to our chest, both disgusted by them yet very unwilling to give them up.  I'm shocked at how much giving up something as simple and relatively innocent as sugar is quite like losing a limb.  It becomes something of a metaphor for my "innocent" sins.  Jesus is calling saying, "Cut it off.  It's bad for you.  Trust me.  Pluck it out.  You don't need it.  It can only weigh you down.  Make the clean break."  Usually I find myself begging, "I only just want to keep it a little longer.  Just a LITTLE bit longer.  The littlest bit.  Come on.  Please?"  It's a self serving lie, of course.  He does know best.

I say to myself more than anyone else, "Let go.  Give it up.  Trust Him.  The Father knows best."

Pax,

W

Ash Wednesday

My family has recently begun attending the local Presbyterian "Mega Church" as I call it.  (Seriously, it's the biggest Presbyterian church I've ever seen.  It doesn't seat thousands but it does have three services).  The church we had been attending decided to move twenty minutes away so we'd been churchless for a while.  The Presbyterian church is where we've sent our kids to AWANA so we had a pretty good feel of the people or at least the place so social anxiety was minimal.  I had some other qualifications I felt I needed in a church (I can't remember if I've written about that.  I'll have to look.  That was an...interesting...process...) and the Presby satisfied them all.  We started attending the Saturday evening service which, let me tell you, is a great thing for a church to have.

Anyway, the point is that, as my wife states, Presby is kind of like Catholic light...all the ritual without the Latin, the guilt, and they let the leaders be married.  I'm not sure that's an official description, but suffice to say they celebrate things like Ash Wednesday.

I'd never been to an Ash Wednesday service before given that I had the typical FEC sensibilities of "It ain't in the Bible, so we ain't doin' it".  Maybe it's my age creeping up on me and sentimentality creeping in, but I felt like I really wanted to go and experience it.  I'd done Lent before and was committed to doing it again this year by giving up sugar.  Well, sugar in overt forms.  I know bread has some sugar in it as do fruits but I'm not giving them up.  The sugar in my coffee, cookies, candy, soda, etc. however are verboten.  It's the indulgences I'm limiting.  (Day two is going on right now for me and...the withdrawals are pretty bad right now.  My body is less than happy with me.)

There was a soup and bread meal before the service that we also attended in order that we might get to know the congregation a little better.  I say "might" because I'm a little strange when it comes to meeting people.  My wife is the more daring one when it comes to conversation.  I'm always busy thinking, double thinking, and triple thinking what I'm going to say, how it will be received, how they might respond, and by the time that process is over I start wondering if the length of time I've spent thinking it through has been too long so as to make it not just awkward but super awkward.  It's a vicious cycle.

The time came and we all filed into the sizeable sanctuary which filled up very quickly.  That was probably my first shock.  At all the churches I've been a part of before it was hit or miss that even a quarter of the congregation showed up for an event that wasn't on Sunday morning.

My nine year old daughter nudged me a bit and asked me where the ashes were and if they actually were the burned palm branches from last palm Sunday.  My little nerdling had researched it before we left the house.  I replied that I didn't know and that wasn't necessarily a for sure thing.  She then asked what it was all about.  Apparently the things she retained from her research were more along the lines of interesting trivia.
I explained about ashes as a symbol of mourning and how we come to Lent as a recognition of our sins; that our sins have offended God, that we are from dust and to dust we will return.

She asked if she had to get that stuff on her forehead if she went up and I assured her that it's only for the will, completely voluntary.  My daughter gave a confession of faith in Jesus last year and still hadn't even gone forward for her first communion so I didn't expect that she would even entertain the idea

One of the things people in FEC circles get hung up on connected to Ash Wednesday and, by extension, Lent is the focus on the "sin" component.  I was struck by this when my sister had called me earlier in the day to relate her experience attending the event at a Catholic church.  The priest apparently went on about our sin, how sinful we are, how it offends God, and so on until she had to leave.  Naturally my Smart Ass (tm) reply was, "Did you check the denomination before you went through the door" and she said yes, of course but...what about Grace?  Naturally my brain kicked into overdrive and started obsessing on the differences.  I came to a few conclusions and notions.

It was best said by the pastor at the Presby service that night.  He said that we cannot understand the full value of that grace until we understand the depths of our depravity and the offensiveness of our sin.

Jesus' sacrifice has little value to those who don't think they did much of anything wrong in the first place.  Amazing Grace is only such a sweet song when we realize we are a wretch.  I look reflect and find that I can easily live my life thinking that my sins are minor things because I'm keeping the Big Ten with little to no problem.  I'm really not bowing down at idols, disrespecting my parents in word or deed, haven't come close to murdering, and I can't even remember the last time I coveted my neighbor's donkey.  But God says my heart is corrupt and full of deceit.  I sin.  I sin all the time.  Not a day goes by that I do not sin.  It's a modern numbing that tells me "Oh, well, ya know He's going to forgive you so shrug it off and don't give it a second thought."  Just because I know that the Judge with find me innocent doesn't mean that I should feel nothing when finding that I've committed a crime.  Should I feel condemned?  No.  However, should I feel nothing?  Sin is a cancer and there's not a cancer patient in this world that hears the diagnosis and goes, "Oh, sure.  Ok, Doc.  Thanks," with a casual air like I can tend to do with my sins.

After an invocation prayer they had someone play and sing Phil Wickham's song Mercy and I nearly wept in my pew.  We forget that we need mercy.  It's so easy to fall prey to Behavioral Christianity that believes Grace covers everything so don't think on it or let it prick your conscience.  We become quite happily numb to our wretchedness.  I'm not at all saying that we should consider, as I was told as a child, that every sin we commit is another thorn in the brow or a twist of the nail in Jesus' hand.  But it does us well to remember on occasion lest we become like the Ungrateful Servant.

Ash Wednesday is a reminder that our sins have offended God.  Lent is all about giving up our little idols, our comforts, and mourning that we tend to lavish them with more adoration and attention than we do the Jesus who saved us.  In the end we are our own idols, as it turns out.  The things we give up seem to make room for us to hold on to more of the LORD.

I had prepped for the occasion.  I wasn't about to be caught off guard again by the Non-FEC style communion where they actually say things to you. "This is the body of Christ broken for you." "Uh....thank you?" (Direct quote from our first visit).  I wondered if they would go with the oh so Catholic, "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return." or the slightly more modernly palatable, "Repent and believe the gospel."

The pastor looked into my eyes and said, "Dust you are and to dust you shall return.  Repent, believe the gospel and follow after Jesus."

For the second time that evening I nearly lost it.

I don't believe that there is a power inherent in the rituals themselves.  It would be easy to confuse the issue there.  I had always seen the rituals as empty expressions without power and meaning.  I was likely half right.  They are without power.  However I do believe that when we use them to draw nigh unto the LORD he is faithful to show up and draw night unto us.  Just going through the motions without a fully engage heart is not enough.  Believe that the ritual has any power in and of itself is not enough.  It's such a fine hair's breadth line that it can be difficult to put into language.

God showed up for me there, that is for sure, just like He has faithfully shown up in my "ritual" of praying three times a day, and reading my Bible first thing in the morning.

Something snagged my attention out of the corner of my eye.  The pastor was rising from a bent position and I wondered why since I believed that it was my wife right behind me and she's short but not that short.  A familiar bashful and half afraid face appeared belonging to my daughter as the pastor moved out of the way to put an ash cross on my wife's forehead.  I could not help but beam at my daughter.  I had wondered if she would ever take the next step in her faith walk by taking communion, and here she was participating in Ash Wednesday.  She followed me through the communion elements accidentally grabbing the crust of the loaf she was presented with and had an adorable little tug of war with the deacon who held it.  Dipping it in the cup of wine she walked faster to catch up with me and ask in a loud whisper, "Do I eat it now or do I wait 'til we're in our seats?".  I smiled and told her either was OK, but I eat it right away because it can drip on your hands.

We walked back to our seats, sang a hymn, received the Benediction, and were asked to exit in silence.

Exiting in silence was one of the strangest experiences of my life.  It was unsettling, and that was the point.  Ash Wednesday is not about rejoicing.  The rejoicing comes at the end, on Easter Sunday.  We were to feel unsettled, as if something was wrong, because something is wrong.  Sin broke the world.  Again, I like to think of it as a minor inconvenience, but sin is a terrible, horrible thing that has shattered lives, destroyed man's relationship with God and I wonder how many times I look at my sinning brother and I shrug in the same way I do with it in my life.  I couldn't help but think of my previous pastor and the Solemn Assembly he holds every year in October as an "Ash Wednesday" for another season of fasting.  I think we could stand to take sin seriously more than once a year.

Pax,

W

Prayer

Prayer and I have had a bit of a rocky relationship for quite a while.  It's a frustrating nebulous thing no one really talks about how you should go about it.  It's just something you DO.  You talk to the "man up in the sky" for a few minutes, tell him what you want and then move on with your life until you need to do it again.  Pastors use the "prayer time" seemingly to wrap up their sermon by providing a closed eye summary of bullet points.  The time when prayer has always felt the least odd or awkward for most people is when in dire need.  That's easy.  You've reached the end of yourself, everything is spinning out of control, and you have no power over outcomes, of course you toss up a prayer.

My position on prayer in the past has been one of, "Well, He knows what I need and he's either going to give it to me or he isn't" or "How in the world is multiple prayers and long hours on my knees going to help?  Honestly.  He knows my heart, is it really going to sway Him if I bow, scrap, grovel, and wail until my knees bleed and my vocal cords shred?"

When we look into the prayer lives of those in the Bible you see characters more open than others and with some, if you were to take it at face value, they don't seem to have prayed at all.  A fault of not recording every detail.  I was always oddly comforted that the disciples fell asleep while Jesus asks them to pray with him.  I know I'd be spouting all kinds of excuses.  "Look, rabbi, come on.  We just had a meal, had some wine, and it's getting late.  Never mind that we walked all day to get you that donkey and foal you wanted.  I close my eyes for two seconds and I'm gonna pass out."  They surely didn't need a devil to force them to sleep.  My personal schedule is enough to make it so that I can't close my eyes for long without sawing logs wherever I happen to be.  My sister-in-law can attest to this.  Ten minutes at her house and I'm on her couch in an unconscious state.

I've admired those of other faiths and their various "prayer" activities.  Buddhist meditation, the Muslim dedication to praying five times a day no matter the circumstances, and Kabbalist (Jewish Mystic) prayer/meditation.

It's not secret that I favor the Kabbalists in many respects.  Sure, they got a little wacky with their Books of Splendor and were really bad at picking who the Messiah is but there was a discipline born out joy that was their prayer life.  For them it was about communion with the LORD, that sure heaven was something to look forward to but a glimpse could be experienced here and now.  It was coming into his presence and singing praises right along with the angels surrounding the throne.  There was a direct experiential component there.  It was rarely about asking for things or giving a litany of ailments and discontent about our lives.  No Kabbalist would ever presume to tell the LORD how things should be, or how he needed to provide this way, or give him this kind of car now.  Although the Lord's Prayer was a Christian document the Kabbalist heart was more often than not, "Not my will be done, but YOUR will be done".

During my early years in FEC (Fundamentalist Evangelical Christianity) I can't remember a single pastor, deacon, or elder who was in love with the LORD.  I grant you that perhaps they kept it 'til their personal devotional time, or maybe they were on their way to being in love with the Lord.  There were men who TRIED to love the LORD and went to pains to make it seem that way.  There were men who wrestled with the LORD sometimes in the very pulpit as they preached.  There were men who put on every appearance of being "in good with God".  There were men who clearly felt obligated to preach and pastor because of what the LORD had done.  And these men formed my notions of why to pray.  Namely, "God says do it, so you do it."  Prayer was a box to check off the list right up there with "made sure I turned off the oven".  It was a regulation.  I've had people tell me all my life that this whole "experiencing God" things is just a scam.  You do what the book says, you come on Sunday, you put money in the plate, and if you get a little thrill during "How Great Thou Art" when the people harmonize a little then that's fine, but it's NOT the Holy Spirit.  Somehow, it's MEANT to be bland all the time.

Once I entered into my thirties and wasn't so angry with those who had taught me, I started taking notice that the teachers in my life were suddenly people who had been broken.  They'd had divorces they didn't plan on, children having children out of wedlock, scandals, or even things they'd never mention but you could see the brokenness somewhere about the eyes.  They were often quiet and gentle.  When they spoke with authority it was rare but bedrock solid.  And when it came to prayer it was like a soothing breeze to a weary soul.  If you brought up Jesus then there it was, a new look in their eyes.  Like they couldn't wait to talk about Him and hoped you just stand back and say "Ok...3...2...1...GO!" and they'd tell you everything the good Lord had done for them, ever, up until 5 seconds before you asked.  It was always their prayers that stuck out to me.  You can tell when a prayer is from the heart or manufactured, tested, focused grouped, etc.  That sincere prayer is born out of brokenness and a love for Him to whom we pray.

All of that to say...(a common phrase here at the Oubliette) I've reclaimed some of the baby from the bathwater I talked about last time.

I did some research online as to different prayer times and I now am praying (as regularly as capable) three times a day.  Of course there's a bajillion opinions on what to pray when and inevitably they all disagree with each other.  I pray at 9:30am, 12:30pm, and at 7pm every day.  Traditionally it's meant to be 9am, 12pm, and 3pm (as I understand it) but life gets in the way.  They were monks who set this up and not stay at home husbands who have a child to homeschool, a house to clean, and (biggest differentiation) a wife to look after.
Over the past three to four weeks that I have been praying three times a day I've noticed that my life has taken on some fairly serious changes.  When I do pray all three times I've noticed that I am calmer, and react more in line with the "fruit of the Spirit" than when I do not.  Sin is not constantly crouching at my door like it once was.  I am thinking about the LORD more throughout my day making decisions and choices based on His word in the Bible.  Remarkably I have more of a sensation of His presence throughout the day.  That presence is something I've wanted for a very long time.  I once asked someone why it was that I only feel His presence at church.  If God is everywhere shouldn't I feel His presence everywhere?  They shrugged and said something along the lines of how if we felt Him everywhere then we wouldn't need faith.  I still disagree with that.  It's like saying we worship a God who wants to be known but doesn't want us to know Him; or a God who reaches out but doesn't want us to take hold; a God who gives us communion but wants it to be only about the bread and wine.

It's easy to look at rituals or ritualized anything and say that the power is in the act.  As Christians we know that isn't true.  The reason that I will live my Christian walk partly through "ritualized" prayer is because it creates a rhythm in my life that has me regularly orbiting my the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  It has more to do with the promise that if I draw near to Him then He will draw near to me.

I confront myself regularly with the question from my youth, "Why pray to a God who already knows my needs before I as?"  Every time I respond that, "I don't know why...but the God who fashioned the universe (literally one song) out of His words, who sent His Son to die for me, this God who greatly loves these specks of dust on a blue dot in space....ASKS me to."  He shoves the fact of omnipotence, omniscience, and all the other OMNI that is integral to His being aside and wants to hear about my day, my struggles, how He can help, my joys and praises to Him, etc.

When I pick up my son in my arms at day's end and ask him how his day went, even when he's been home all day, he doesn't hesitate.  He doesn't say, "You know, Papa.  You were there with me all day."  No.  He screws up his face, puts a thoughtful finger to his chin and says, "Wehw..." (That's "well" for those who don't speak his language) and begins to tell me everything.

I thank God that every day my children reminds me of what He means when He says that we must all come to him like little children.

Pax,

Will