June 9, 2019
Eternal Spirit of the living
Christ,
I know not how to ask or what
to say;
I only know my need as deep
as life,
And only you can teach me how
to pray.
As a pastor, I have received
little help in how to pray.
In seminary, we talked about
prayer. We learned the teaching of Jesus
– that prayer was a good thing, that God wants to hear our prayers, and that
God listens when we do pray. We
discussed the theology of prayer and noted different ways Christian churches
pray.
But, except for times of
public worship, we didn’t actually pray all that much. The one exception for me was that, in my job
description as Director of Youth Ministry and Christian Education at St. Mark’s
Episcopal Church in Upland, California, it was stipulated that up to two of my
sixteen hours each week could be dedicated to prayer. But that was it.
To be honest, though, I don’t
know that I would have engaged much in the practice of prayer, even if there
had been more opportunities. Maybe I
still had too many questions about the efficacy of prayer or even of the right
way to pray. It was probably more,
though, that my heart wasn’t ready for prayer.
Even after I was ordained, I
couldn’t quite pull off the kind of prayer life that I thought a pastor was
supposed to have – daily verbal prayer (especially with one’s spouse!), as well
as Bible reading. Of course, I regularly
prayed with people in a variety of settings – in the hospital and at the
funeral home, at meetings and in worship.
But I couldn’t seem to sustain any kind of personal practice for more
than a few days.
Then, after almost 15 years
of serving as a pastor, I decided I might try meditation. I read in Morton Kelsey’s book, The Other
Side of Silence, that he had taken up the practice in order to begin
experiencing the things that, as an Episcopal priest, he had been preaching
about for so many years.
I tried all kinds of
meditation – counting breaths, guided meditation, centering prayer, chanting,
icons, mindfulness and others. Given the
way my personality is, I would get bored with one kind after two or three months
and I would try something else.
Even so, I think I was
learning something, in spite of myself – I was learning the limits of my own
efforts at prayer. I wasn’t very good at
it, but I didn’t give up. I persisted,
trying to get better at it, without understanding that one of the purposes of
prayer and meditation is to help us realize that we’re not very good at it.
Prayer is not about being
able to say the right words. It’s about
being quiet when the right words don’t come, or even when there are no “right
words.” It’s about being quiet, so that
we can be open to what the Spirit is saying and doing in us.
As Paul says, “Likewise the
Spirit helps us in our weakness when we do not know how to pray as we ought.”
So, I persisted because, even
though I did not know the right words, I knew that I had a deep need. And that desire is what kept me going.
Eternal Spirit of the Living
Christ,
I know not how to ask or what
to say;
I only know my need as deep
as life,
And only you can teach me how
to pray.
Come, pray in me the prayer I
need this day;
Help me to see your purpose
and your will,
Where I have failed, what I
have done amiss;
Held in forgiving love, let
me be still.
Coming to the end of our
words in prayer provides more space for the Holy Spirit to pray for us – to
pray in us the prayer we need this day.
That may even be a good prayer in itself – Lord, I do not know what to
pray today. So, pray in me the prayer
that I need.
This prayer is a prayer of
surrender. It is a prayer to let go of our agenda for today. It is a prayer of openness to God’s purpose
and will. Just as Jesus prayed, “Not my
will, but yours, be done,” so we can pray, “Not my prayer, but yours in me.”
Help me to see your purpose
and your will.
I think one of the most
surprising verses in the New Testament is in John 5. Although we read most of the Gospel of John
in the course of our three-year lectionary, we do not read this:
Jesus said to them, “Very
truly I tell you, the Son can do nothing on his own, but only what he sees the
Father doing.” (5:19)
Jesus is not operating on his
own. He is not making it up as he goes
along. The Father has not said to the
Son, “Oh, you figure it out. Just do whatever you think is best.” No.
What Jesus does is to look around and see what the Father is doing and
then joins the Father in that work.
If this is true for Jesus,
how much more is it true for us! Our job
is not to come up with a mission statement or a strategic plan. It is simply to look around, to see what God
is doing, and then to join God in whatever God is already doing.
So that we are less likely to
fool ourselves, we also confess – where I have failed, what I have done
amiss. We acknowledge that we don’t
always see and do what God is doing. We
do not always seek God’s will above our own.
So, we confess fully, but we also rest fully in God’s love.
In this state – being wrapped
in the arms of God – there is nothing to do.
That doesn’t mean there is nothing happening, though. For in this resting, our eyes are open to what
God is doing and our ears are open to what the Spirit is saying in us.
Come, pray in me the prayer I
need this day;
Help me to see your purpose
and your will.
Where I have failed, what I
have done amiss;
Held in forgiving love, let
me be still.
Come with the vision and the
strength I need
To serve my God and all
humanity;
Fulfillment of my life in
love outpoured:
My life in you, O Christ,
your love in me.
In our weakness, we ask the
Spirit to come with strength and with seeing so that we might serve – serve God
and all humanity. This is the
fulfillment of our lives – to pour out our lives in love.
This is what our life might
look like on the outside – lives devoted to service. On the inside, it is this:
My life in you, O Christ, your love in me.
When we fall in love, part of
us goes with that other person, when we are apart. We long for them and can’t wait to see them
again. And part of them is also in us. There is an inner connection we have with
that person. It’s not just when we fall
in love, although it may be more apparent then because the feelings are more
intense. It is also when we live
together over many years – in love and out of love, in all the ups and downs of
married life, day after day after day – even when nothing seems to be happening.
So also with God – when we
are in love with God, there is a deep connection, a union between our own
spirit and the Spirit of God, the eternal Spirit of the living Christ. Our true life is in God, and God’s love is in
us – pouring out, fulfilling our lives.
As Paul says in Galatians 2,
“I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is
Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in
the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”
Now you may not be ready to
go there. It may all sound a bit too
mystical for you. You are just a garden variety Lutheran after all. But remember what Luther says about the work
of the Holy Spirit, in his explanation to the Third Article of the Apostles’
Creed:
I believe that I cannot by my
own understanding or effort, believe in Jesus Christ my Lord or come to him.
But the Holy Spirit has called me through the gospel, enlightened me with his
gifts and sanctified and kept me in true faith…
So, likewise, this hymn
begins with the acknowledgement that we can’t do it ourselves, that we do not
know how to pray as we ought, that we need the Spirit of God working within
us. All we need is a simple trust in God
and the desire to live out the love of God in Christ.
Come with the vision and the
strength I need,
To serve my God and all
humanity;
Fulfillment of my life in
love outpoured
My life in you, O Christ,
your love in me.
Amen.
(ELW, #402)
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