prayer.

One of my favorite things during the contemporary worship at my church is the prayer time. It’s the communal aspect of sharing prayer requests—the painful and the praise-filled, the simple and the profound. I find my perspective is widened when I hear what others are going through in their lives. It reminds me of the grace of God in our lives as individuals but in that special time of worship, I glimpse what God is doing in our one united life as a church.

Prayer in a personal sense and in my everyday life has always been a difficult thing for me. I find the most meaning in personal prayer when I speak out loud. I am not an on-my-knees kind of pray–er, nor do my prayers ever have much structure. Those rare nights when I do take the time to pray, as I 'lay me down to sleep' I struggle with feeling foolish. Foolish in the things I say which at times seem without depth or honest substance. In my head and in my heart, I know that all things should be taken to God in prayer, but in my gut I often feel petty, selfish, self-righteous, hypocritical and superficial.

Those times I ‘pray the Lord my soul to keep’—I’m not thinking about peace or the environment or wasted resources or consumerism or Tibet or women’s rights or gay & lesbian rights or tolerance or discernment for the church. I care deeply about all these things and more, but I don’t find myself bringing any of these things to my conversation with God. Instead I am plagued by prayer requests, pleas really, of a much lower variety. Help me stop eating fast food at midnight. Help me make music again—my music. Help me start exercising. Help me not feel guilty so often. Lead me not into temptation. Deliver me from evil. Help me love myself.

Prayer is a funny thing. We have unison prayers, prayers of confession, pastoral prayers, prayers for peace, the Lord’s Prayer, prayers of the people, prayer responses, a National Day of Prayer. In January, my church congregation and several others shared in an ecumenical prayer celebration to recognize a week of prayer for Christian unity. We sat on cold pew benches in Saint Brigid of Kildare Catholic Church and sang hymns and songs meant to unite us in spirit and purpose. Different denominations were represented throughout the service in the welcome, the confession, unison readings, scripture; all the elements of the service were shared. And, of course, we prayed. The celebration was titled: Pray Without Ceasing.

In her message, the pastor spoke of the Holy Spirit as a river running underground. Although pools may form on the surface, the river is constant. It is in motion below us and we do not need to see it or touch it or hear it for the water to flow. Like that river, the Holy Spirit is below us and above us and around us. And we do not need to see it or touch it or hear it for it to carry our prayers in its current.

In truth, God doesn’t require a structured, formulated prayer in order to hear my needs and know what is in my heart. God knows my pain and distress about peace and the environment and all human rights and about the church. I am loved and heard and cared about. I am riding the river and sometimes I see its presence in pools of assurance and springs of grace. But even when I feel dried up or barren or hopeless, the river rages on under me and above me and all around me.

“ Always be joyful. Never stop praying.
Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will
for you to belong to Christ Jesus.
Do not stifle the Holy Spirit.
Do not scoff at prophecies,
but do test everything that is said.
Hold on to what is good.
Stay away from every kind of evil.
May the God of peace make you holy in every way,
and may your whole spirit and soul and body
be kept blameless until our Lord Jesus Christ comes again.
God will make this happen, for he who calls you is faithful. ”
—from 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24 (New Living Translation)