ESR student Susan Flynn delivered the following message during ESR Worship on May 1, 2014:
My
first exposure to prayer was when I was a little girl. At night my Dad would tell me stories he
would make up. Sometimes I would tell
him my own, (it was easier than searching for a book to read). After our stories were told, we would always
recite the Lord’s prayer together before I fell asleep. I considered our prayer time sacred and
special.
When
I first got to Seminary and heard beautiful prayers spoken at meals, in our
circles, and the spontaneous in-the-moment blessings, I decided I was way behind
my colleagues in the prayer department.
I determined the best course of action was to conduct an informal
investigation of prayer and figure out where it fit in my life.
My
2003 bright red outdated Webster’s dictionary explains that to pray is “to implore,
or ask for earnestly”. Unfortunately,
there was no five-steps-to-prayer or an instructions manual tucked in the
dictionary. My narrow definition of
prayer was that I must be: kneeling with a bowed head, eyes closed, mind
cleared, facial expression as close to angelic as possible, and hands
gracefully clasping my official license-to-pray card, just in case I got
questioned by the prayer patrol.
Richard
Rohr tells me “God and truth never just fall into your lap, but are given as
gifts only to those who want them” (Yes and….., 14). I have been set back by my perceptions of how
prayer should go. In the Bible when God
communicates, obviously with Her adoring humans, there is often a big show,- an
awesome weather system, clouds, rainbows, creatures, doves and ravens, bringing
good news or good food. After having
read these clear instances of God communicating with people, complete with
surround sound and weather systems, I confess I wished for ridiculously obvious
communications from God, too.
“Hey
Susan, you are on the right path.” “Are
you sure you want to take your brother’s cookie?” “This too shall pass.”
Or
when I say, “God I have no idea what to do here”, a booming genderless voice
hollers “Take this exit! It’s the best
choice.” As a brilliant light comes out
of nowhere illuminating the most appropriate path for my journey. (Note obvious weather system.)
There
have been many times when I have asked for answers. For hope.
For clarity. For wisdom, and felt
like I must have had a bad connection.
Maybe I was out of range. Or
fantastic weather shows were only reserved for the holiest of holy,- and
certainly not my unsure self with a heart full of questions. Did I have the wrong number for God, or did I
miss the memo on how to correctly communicate with the Divine? Does She screen her calls or text later if
she is busy?
Before
I gave into a terrible case of poor-me’s, feeling forgotten, I thought perhaps
my investigation was too small and perhaps, I wasn’t asking the right
questions. After meditating on the story
of Pentecost and how people were speaking many different languages, (but could
understand each other perfectly), I decided I had been too narrow-minded, to
assume God would only communicate in one way.
So
I thought - what is my first language? I
tell friends that since I am neither proficient or sufficient in English, that
it is my second language. They get all
excited about the concept of my being bi-lingual and I get all embarrassed
about not having mastered the only language I know. I stumble with words like a klutz in a china
shop, and find I get frustrated when people use their words to speak over,
exclude or diminish others. My first
language, the one that comes most naturally, is one that is more
non-verbal. It is the language of
metaphor, intuition and mystery.
Pondering
this thought I realized with great relief that God had been communicating with
me the whole time. Only, in my first
language. I had been under the false
impression, She was leaving my calls unanswered.
When
I pray, I often get answers in dreams, nature or from the people around
me. Very often my answers are found like
gifts in subtle places, throughout the day.
Seeing a blue heron fly overhead, right at the moment when my hope was
teetering, or hearing a song that carries a phrase I needed so very much to
hear. Or observing the freedom of my
5-year-old niece flying around the living room singing “Let it go”, reminding
me I need to stop being so serious. God
has always been communicating. I was the
one who was out of range, making it more complicated than it ever needed to
be.
I’m
grateful for my outdated dictionary because it asked me to think about what my
definition of prayer was,- its limited definition a prelude to my own
clarity. It is not just earnestly asking
for, it is also deep acknowledgement of, the awesomeness that is around
us. Gratitude is my favorite form of
prayer.
Like
noticing how the trees just sprouted blossoms and shade, around the circle that
unites our school buildings. Or how the
Irises stand tall with their lean green legs and purple crests buttressing the
outside of Quigg Sanctuary in joyful solidarity.
Take
a moment from our self- important places to look around, remember the wonder,
take notice of the beauty and take part in the world.
As
we move into a moment of silence I ask
you to think about what prayer means to you.
What language do you use to communicate with the Divine? Do you express your gratitude through
prayer? Where are the places that you
consider most sacred?
