Prayer

Abiding in Christ

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Abiding in Christ” John 15:1-8

Last week, our gospel reading invited us to consider Jesus the Good Shepherd. This week, John’s gospel brings us another of Jesus’ bold statements of identity, “I am the true vine.” Herding sheep and tending a vineyard are tasks far removed from our daily experience, but these agricultural metaphors would have been familiar to Jesus’ listeners. In Jesus’ world, vineyards were an essential part of the landscape. Grapes were eaten as fresh fruit, dried into raisins, and mashed into jams. Grapes were turned into wine, sweet syrup, and vinegar. Vineyards passed from generation to generation within families. As fruit ripened, whole communities pitched in with all-hands-on-deck to bring in the harvest.

When Jesus told his disciples, “I am the vine, you are the branches,” he was alluding to grafting, a vineyard practice that is as important in the wine industry today as it was for first century vine growers. Brent Young, a viticulturalist at Jordan Vineyard and Winery in Sonoma, CA, gets animated when he describes the work of grafting new varieties of grape onto old root stock. First, old grape vines, which are well-established and especially suited to the soil, are cut off, leaving a stump that is allowed to freely bleed and weep for about a week. Then a specialized team is called in. The vinedressers move along the row of cut vines, scoring each stump with a sharp knife. Next, the vinedresser slips a few small budding branches or scions into the scores. The scions are then carefully wrapped to secure their new home in the old vine. Over the following weeks, something wonderful happens, the old root stock gives life to the new scion. It grows, branches, and eventually bears new fruit.

Jesus’s words, “I am the vine, you are the branches,” were meant to comfort and exhort his friends. As Jesus spoke, it was his last evening with the disciples. He had washed his friends’ feet and shared a special meal with them. Judas had already slipped away to betray him. The disciples needed a word of wisdom to guide them through the terror that would soon grip them. Jesus was the true vine, his life revealed God’s will and word for humanity. His death would demonstrate God’s limitless love. Soon the true vine would be cut down, yet the disciples could endure because Jesus was an essential part of them. He would always be with them and, grafted into him, they could put forth miraculous new life and branch out in his purpose.

In viticulture, if the budding scion that the vinedresser attaches to the root stock loses its connection, it withers and dies. Separated from the vine, no life-giving sap can nurture and sustain it. Likewise, Jesus reminded his friends that they would need to abide in him. The Greek word for abide that Jesus used here, meinate, means to stay or remain, to live, dwell, lodge. Abiding in Jesus means cultivating an ongoing, inward, personal bond with the Lord that imparts nurture, meaning, and purpose for our lives.

We long for the meaning and purpose that come with abiding in Christ. But unlike the viticulturalists at the Jordan Vineyard and Winery in Sonoma, we don’t have an expert team of vinedressers to ensure that we keep our connection with the lifegiving true vine of the Lord. I’d like to focus on three ways that we can abide in Jesus the true vine.

Abiding in Christ means feasting upon his words in scripture, whether listening to Sunday sermons, reading the Bible, or participating in Christian Education. The late Fred Craddock, who taught preaching and New Testament at Emory University, once shared that the most influential person in his life was his Sunday school teacher, Miss Emma Stone. She gave him his first Bible and taught him to memorize scripture verses, saying “Just put it in your heart.” Miss Stone taught Fred a verse for each letter of the alphabet. Years later, Craddock reflected upon the importance of those twenty-six verses of scripture that he learned as a child, saying “I can’t think of anything, anything in all my life that has made such a radical difference as those verses. The Spirit of God brings them to mind time and time again.”

We have likewise been sustained by the abiding promises of scripture. In our bleakest moments, we find ourselves praying with the words, “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for thou art with me” (Psalm 23:4). When we’ve made a mess of things and lost our way, we hold to the promise that “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son so that whosoever believeth in him may not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16). When we are feeling vulnerable or overwhelmed, we remember the words of the Apostle Paul, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Phil. 4:13). What are the holy words that help you to abide in Christ?

We also abide through prayer. We all have stories of learning to pray. Sometimes we learn in church. Author and spiritual director Jane E. Vennard writes that although she came from a family of staunch church goers, they never prayed together. Yet every Sunday in church, she was inspired by the beautiful prayers of her pastor. He had survived childhood polio, which left him partially paralyzed, but on Sunday mornings he stood in the pulpit with the help of crutches, stretched out his arms, and lifted his face to pray with a look of pure joy. The beauty and ardor of those prayers inspired Jane to her own lifetime of prayerful connection with God.

Others among us learned to pray from family members. One woman tells the story of learning prayer from her German grandmother. Every night, she would run up the stairs to her grandmother’s room, climb into bed with her, and snuggle under the blanket while her grandmother prayed. An adult now, she says, “I don’t know what she was saying, but her words seemed full of love, just like her arms around me.”

We have similar stories of parents, grandparents, or caring friends who modeled for us a prayer-filled life. As we’ve grown, we’ve learned to make prayers of our own. We share table graces with our families. We recite the Lord’s Prayer each morning as a daily devotion. We find holy refreshment in centering prayer. We may even resort to what author Anne Lamott says are the only two prayers we will ever need to know, “Help me, help me, help me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” How has prayer equipped you to abide in Christ?

Abiding in Christ comes naturally when we are part of a community that loves and serves the Lord. I think about this church’s United Presbyterian Women, women like Evelyn Outcalt, Anna Ferree, Jan Bristol, Carroll Dixon, and Gert Bickford. They were the heartbeat of this church for many years. Most of them were already in their eighties when I came to Saranac Lake almost two decades ago, yet they still gathered monthly for fellowship and spiritual friendship. They had been woven together by years of rummage sales and potlucks, births and celebrations, family tragedies and deaths. They were there for one another with prayers and casseroles, Hallmark cards and simple kindnesses. In that faithful fellowship, they knew the abiding presence of Jesus.

The UPW may be no more, but we continue to find Jesus in this church community. We abide in Christ as we gather each Sunday morning to praise and worship him. We abide in Christ with singing as harmonies are learned and voices blend to the glory of God. We abide in Christ when we grapple together with the big questions of faith in Bible and book studies. We abide in Christ with the fellowship of Coffee Hour, camp outs, and picnics. We abide as we merge our gifts for leadership and care as elders and deacons. How have we abided, growing closer to God and one another in the body of Christ?

Jesus taught his friends that as they abided in him, they would bear fruit. Our growing identity as branches of the true vine is revealed in fruitful works and ministries that reveal the love of Christ to others. When we are grafted into the true vine, we work together to serve others. We find ourselves teaching Sunday School, extending Coffee Hour hospitality, and cooking healthy meals for friends in tough times. When we are grafted into Christ, we serve our vulnerable neighbors. We grow produce in the church garden and share it at the Food Pantry. We pray fervently for folks in every kind of need with the prayer chain. We support neighbors in crisis with the Deacons’ Fund. We help vulnerable world neighbors, like the widows of Mzuzu, through the Women of Grace. As we abide in Christ, his ministry finds new life in us, and the world is blessed by that good fruit.

We may never be viticulturalists, but we have been grafted into the true vine. We are the branches. May we abide in Jesus with scripture, prayer, and the blessing of Christian community. And may we bear good fruit to the glory of God and for the good of our neighbors.

Resources

Jane E. Vennard. “Learning to Pray,” The Alban Institute at Duke Divinity School, July 24, 2006. Accessed online at alban.org.

Brent Young. “Field Grafting Grapevines,” wine education video, 2012. Jordan Vineyard & Winery. Accessed online at Field Grafting Grapevines | How Grapes are Grafted to Change Varieties | Wine Education Videos (youtube.com)

Robert M. Brearley. “Homiletical Perspective on John 15:1-11” in Feasting on the Gospels, John, vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), 2015.

Luis Menendez-Antuña. “Exegetical Perspective on John 15:1-11” in Feasting on the Gospels, John, vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), 2015. Karoline Lewis. “Commentary on John 15:1-8” in Preaching This Week, April 28, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on John 15:1-8 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

John 15:1-8

15”I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower. 2He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. 3You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you. 4Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. 5I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. 6Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. 7If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. 8My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.

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Good Shepherds

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Good Shepherds” John 10 and 1 John 3:16-24

There are 35.3 million refugees in our world, global neighbors who have been forced to flee their homes and cross borders in search of safety and a future. A further 62.5 million people are internally displaced, still residing within their country of origin but homeless. 10 million people are asylum seekers. For them, going home would mean certain death. Last year saw the largest single-year increase in the forced displacement of people in modern history, more even than in the chaos of the Second World War.

4.5 million people of Sudan have been forced to flee amid civil violence. Awad decided to flee to the neighboring village of Mafot when fighting erupted in his hometown. His 80-year-old mother Dawa was too frail to make the two-day journey by foot, so Awad hid her in the bush for three days while he moved his wife and nine children to safety. Awad returned for his mother and carried her to Mafot. After several months, the artillery shells again began to fall. Awad’s family fled further. For 15 days, Awad carried his elderly mother and his daughter Zainab on his back, until they reached the border crossing into South Sudan. Awad’s family now lives with 56,000 other refugees in the Gendrassa camp. Awad knows he will never go home, but he hopes for a day when he will again farm.

The civil conflict in Syria is now in its 14th year. Syrians account for 20% of the world’s refugee population with 6.5 million people hosted in 131 countries. Within Syria, 13.5 million people, more than half of the population, are displaced. Yehia is a Syrian farmer, who raised wheat and barley near the city of Hama. Before the civil war, Yehia says that the family had “the best life.” But in 2017, fighting destroyed their family home. Yehia’s 10-year-old son and one-year-old daughter were killed along with five other family members. Rescuers pulled his four-year-old girl Shahad from the rubble and rushed her to a local clinic, where an overworked medic stitched her badly lacerated face. They then fled for the border. On the way, they were stopped at dozens of checkpoints, where they feared being detained and imprisoned. Seventeen hours later, after midnight, they arrived in Lebanon with nothing but a suitcase. Now at a refugee camp in Lebanon, Yehia is doing what he can to support the surviving members of his family.

In its first year, the Russian invasion drove eight million people out of Ukraine. Almost four million Ukrainians are internally displaced, driven from their homes by violence. Elena Yurchuk worked as a nurse in the northern town of Chernihiv. She tended the injured in a hospital that overflowed with the wounded and dying, even as the Russian bombs fell around them. When the hospital was reduced to rubble, Elena, like many of her neighbors, fled for her life. In a hastily packed car, Elena and her family set out for the Romanian border town of Suceava. Along the way, a car with a young family that followed them was blown up. Elena says, “I don’t know if I have a home or not. Our city is under siege and we barely escaped.”

In a world where 108 million people live the precarious life of refugees and the displaced, the promise of a Good Shepherd sounds especially sweet. When Jesus chose the metaphor of the Good Shepherd to describe himself and his ministry, he drew on a favorite image from the world of the ancient Near East. Kings, emperors, and religious leaders were characterized as shepherds of the people.  Good shepherds protected their people from foreign invaders, provided food in times of famine, took particular care of vulnerable widows and orphans, and maintained justice in the land.  Bad shepherds were more like wolves.  They profited at the people’s expense by conscripting men for endless warfare, taxing villages to pay for imperial luxuries, neglecting the widow and orphan, and selling justice to the highest bidder.  The Hebrew scriptures, whether we are reading the twenty-third psalm or the Prophet Ezekiel (34), affirm that God is the best shepherd, and God longs for a world where people are shepherded with compassion and infinite care – with abundant pastures, flowing streams, protection from enemies, and safety even in the presence of death.

Jesus tells us that he is the Good Shepherd, sent by God to care for God’s people.  Jesus’ life was an object lesson in good shepherding. He worked miracles of healing that brought new life to even the most hopeless of cases.  He fed hungry crowds abundantly, multiplying scanty provisions to satisfy multitudes.  Jesus specially cared for the most vulnerable members of the flock, widows and children, lepers and demoniacs.  Jesus sought and saved the lost. He dined with social refugees, like sinners, tax collectors, and prostitutes. In Jesus, we saw the perfect fulfillment of God’s promise to raise up a messianic Good Shepherd to redeem the lost, lonely, hurting, and oppressed people of Israel. 

Perhaps Jesus’s good shepherding was strengthened by his own experience of vulnerability. As refugees, Jesus’s family fled Bethlehem for the safe haven of Egypt, just one step ahead of Herod’s death squad. A homeless rabbi, Jesus lamented that foxes had holes, birds had nests, yet he had no place to lay his head. A target of powerful religious and political enemies, Jesus endured the criticism of scribes and Pharisees, elders and priests. He suffered the insults, torture, and injustice of Herod and Pilate. Jesus, our Good Shepherd, knew first hand a world where bad shepherds called the shots, and he longed to set it straight.

In a world where refugees and displaced people abound, the Good Shepherd reminds us that we cannot turn a blind eye to the suffering of our global neighbors. We belong to one another, just as we belong to God. Jesus told his friends that he had other sheep, that did not belong to their fold. Those other sheep listened for his voice, and he longed to welcome them. Whether we call Saranac Lake our home, we shelter like Awad in the Gendrassa Camp of South Sudan, we seek safety like Yehia in Lebanon, or like Elena we are on the run from war-torn Ukraine, we are a single global flock, loved by a sovereign God. Professor Gennifer Benjamin Brooks of Garrett Evangelical Seminary says that we cannot love the shepherd without loving the flock, in all the diversity of our world.

Being a member of the Good Shepherd’s flock becomes a call to action, to work for the help and healing of our world. We are summoned to the task of shepherding, of living with and for the best interest of others. Jesus tells us that the Good Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. Indeed, on a lonely cross, stationed between two common criminals, beaten and bloodied, subjected to the verbal abuse of jeering crowds, the good shepherd laid down his life for the flock and reconciled us to God and one another.

In his first letter, the Apostle John characterized the Christian life as living for others, writing, “We know love by this, that Jesus laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help? Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” That imperative to act has prompted this church to give generously to One Great Hour of Sharing, lace up our sneakers and stride out for CROP Walk, and advocate for humanitarian parole for the Hamidullah Family languishing in Kabul, Afghanistan. All are ministries that serve the most vulnerable members of the world’s flock. The more we listen to and follow the shepherd’s voice, the more we live with his care and compassion, the more our world begins to resemble that holy Kingdom where the Good Shepherd reigns triumphant and eternal. 

We, who follow the Good Shepherd, seek a different kind of future for the exiled and displaced. We long to build a world where the global flock knows its belovedness and belongingness. It will be a world where Awad plants fields of green and his family puts down roots. It’s a world where Yehia and the war-ravaged people of Syria go back to ancestral homes amid the blessing of peace. It’s a world where Elena returns to the mundane duties of nursing in Ukraine, safe from the blast of bombs. May we make it so.

I’d like to close this message with “A Prayer to the Shepherd” written by Andrew King, who blogs at “A Poetic Kind of Place.”

O Lord our Shepherd,

may your flock not want

in the refugee camps

of Yarmouk, of Darfur, of Dadaab.

May life-giving pastures of nourishment be theirs

in Sudan, in Niger, in Chad.

May waters of peacefulness and healing flow

in Somalia, in Syria, in Ukraine.

And may souls be restored in our own cities and towns

where violence and hunger still live.

O Lord our Shepherd,

death shadows the valleys

and the houses and hills of our lands.

May the strength of your grace and

the assurance of your love

ever with us and ever embracing,

bring comfort to the grieving and alone.

May there be a table of reconciliation prepared

where enemies may sit down in peace

and may the cup of joy overflow for those

whose suffering has been their drink.

Let your goodness and mercy attend your flock,

O Shepherd, our Lord,

and may all your flock dwell

in the unity of your love

as long as life endures.

Resources:

Andrew King. “A Prayer to the Shepherd” in A Poetic Kind of Place, April 10, 2016. Accessed online at https://earth2earth.wordpress.com/tag/the-good-shepherd/

USA for UNHCR. “Refugee Statistics” in Refugee Facts 2024. Accessed online at Refugee Statistics | USA for UNHCR (unrefugees.org)

–. “Refugee Stories: Mapping a Crisis.” The Choices Program, Brown University Department of History. Accessed online at www.choices.ed

Stephen McGrath. “Ukraine refugees tell harrowing tales even as numbers ease” in The Associated Press, March 13, 2022. Accessed online at Ukraine refugees tell harrowing tales even as numbers ease | AP News.

Lucy Lind Hogan. “Commentary on John 10:11-18” in Preaching This Week, April 29, 2012. Accessed online at Commentary on John 10:11-18 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Gennifer Benjamin Brooks. “Commentary on John 10:11-18” in Preaching This Week, April 25, 2021. Accessed online at Commentary on John 10:11-18 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Susan Hedahl. “Commentary on John 10:11-18” in Preaching This Week, May 3, 2009. Accessed online at Commentary on John 10:11-18 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

John 10:1-26

10“Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. 2The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. 3The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. 4When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. 5They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers.” 6Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them. 7So again Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. 8All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. 9I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. 10The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly. 11“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. 12The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away—and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. 13The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. 14I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, 15just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. 16I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd. 17For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. 18No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father.”

19Again the Jews were divided because of these words. 20Many of them were saying, “He has a demon and is out of his mind. Why listen to him?” 21Others were saying, “These are not the words of one who has a demon. Can a demon open the eyes of the blind?”

22At that time the festival of the Dedication took place in Jerusalem. It was winter, 23and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the portico of Solomon. 24So the Jews gathered around him and said to him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” 25Jesus answered, “I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; 26but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. 27My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. 

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Quiet Time

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Quiet Time” Mark 1:29-39

The evidence is in. Prayer is good for us. Dr. Andrew Newberg, the author of How God Changes Our Brains: Breakthrough Findings from a Leading Neuroscientist has found that twelve minutes of personal reflection and prayer has a profound impact on our brains. Prayer enhances our neuroplasticity, the brain’s capacity to grow and develop at all ages. It also increases blood flow to the frontal lobes and anterior cingulate cortex, those areas of our brain that are essential for our fundamental cognitive processes, including motivation, decision making, learning, cost-benefit calculation, as well as conflict and error monitoring. You might even say that a robust prayer life boosts brain health and equips us to learn, grow, and develop as people.

Prayer isn’t just good for the brain; it’s good for the whole body. It’s good for our heart and lungs. Prayer reduces our heart rate, synchronizes our breath and heartbeat, and has been clinically proven to reduce blood pressure. Prayer benefits our endocrine system, too. It stimulates the body’s production of helpful hormones, like melatonin to regulate sleep, serotonin to boost our mood, and oxytocin, that feel-good hormone that we experience when we snuggle a child or a puppy. Prayer may also keep us healthy and promote healing. Studies have found a correlation between prayer and an increase in our body’s immune response.

Prayer may even help us in the workplace. It has the power to reduce stress levels and curb anxiety. Prayer can make us less reactive to criticism and the negative moods of others. It enhances our critical thinking and even gives our self-esteem a boost. Neuroscientist Andrew Newberg, says he isn’t sure if God exists. He can’t prove that in a lab, but he can prove that our belief and prayerful engagement with God are fundamentally good for us in body, mind, and spirit.

Jesus didn’t need a neuroscientist to tell him that prayer was good for him. Today’s reading from the first chapter of Mark continues the story that we began last week of a very full day of ministry in Capernaum. First, Jesus wowed worshippers by teaching. He made the scriptures come alive in ways that felt authentic and authoritative. Then, Jesus helped a man who had been troubled by an unclean spirit, healing and restoring him to his right mind.

Jesus had earned an afternoon of sabbath, but as soon as they entered Peter’s house, he learned that someone was sick. Peter’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, an illness that in the first century could be life-threatening at worst and a crisis for sharing hospitality at best. Undeterred by the report of illness, Jesus went to the woman’s bedside and, in a private moment of compassion, lifted her up, a minor miracle that left the woman eager to serve the Lord.

You know how people like to talk. It wasn’t long before word had spread from one side of Capernaum to the other. So, at sunset as the sabbath ended, the door to Peter’s house was thronged by folks in need of every sort of healing and deliverance.

What comes next is important. We might expect Jesus to rest up and sleep late. We might expect him to enjoy a leisurely breakfast with his new disciples, cooked up by that doting mother-in-law. We might expect him to take a victory lap in Capernaum, checking in on all those people he helped. But Jesus doesn’t do any of those things. Rather, we find him in a deserted place, spending some quiet time with God in prayer.

Those prayerful times of retreat would become characteristic of Jesus’ ministry. Even before he preached his first sermon or worked his first miracle, Jesus spent forty days in the wilderness, communing with God. Before naming the inner circle of his disciples, Jesus spent an all-nighter in prayerful discernment. After feeding the 5,000, Jesus sent his friends ahead and lagged behind for some private prayer time. On the night of his arrest, Jesus would pray, face down in the garden of Gethsemane, pleading with God for the strength to face the cross. Even while dying, Jesus prayed, asking God to forgive his executioners. Jesus was a man of prayer, and he encouraged his friends to do likewise. He hoped his friends would see that God was with them on the journey and with God they would find the courage and grace to meet each day. He even gave us a simple formula for talking to God that we use every Sunday: the Lord’s Prayer.

We know all this. We know that Jesus was the ultimate prayer warrior. We know that the Lord taught his followers to pray. We probably even know that prayer is good for us. Yet we struggle with cultivating a practice and discipline of prayer. Our spiritual forefather John Calvin taught that this is part of the legacy of our total depravity and original sin – that we are incapable of doing good until the Spirit moves within us.

I’m not so sure about Calvin’s conclusion. I am more inclined to agree with author and prayer expert Richard Foster, who compares our reluctance to find the quiet time to be with God to walking through a shopping mall with a two-year-old, something he did one day with a dear friend. The little boy was in one of those fuming and fussy moods that frustrates every parent. The dad tried everything to quiet the child, but nothing worked. At last, he scooped the boy up and held him close to his heart and began to sing a silly, made-up, off-tune song. “I love you! I’m so glad you are my boy. You make me happy. I like the way you laugh.” On and on he sang. The child relaxed and was soothed. When they got to the car later, the father buckled his son into the car seat and the little boy said, “Sing it to me again, Daddy. Sing it to me again.” Foster says that our resistance and God’s persistence are like this. Prayer is “to be gathered up into the arms of the Father and allow[ing] him to sing his love song over us.”

We need to find that daily time to rest in the arms of God, to listen to the heartbeat of the Almighty, and know that we are beloved. We can do what Jesus did, find the quiet moments that can be carved out of even the busiest and most productive of days. Jesus liked to retreat to his quiet places in the morning, while the world was hushed and the sun was a promise on the horizon. That might be your quiet time, too. Or, you may wish to find a quiet place on your lunchbreak to turn away from the rush of your day and turn to those waiting arms of the Almighty. Perhaps you are a night owl. Your thoughts turn to God as the shadows lengthen and the busy day ends. Morning, noon, or night, we are invited to find the quiet time to pray, listen, and be soothed.

Researchers have found a further benefit to prayer. It’s not only good for us; it’s good for others. Researchers at Florida State University determined that prayer helps our marriages. It shifts us from being at odds with one another and reminds us that we are on the same team. Husbands and wives who pray report greater relationship satisfaction. As someone who is celebrating their eighteenth anniversary today, I say, “Who doesn’t want that?” Just twelve minutes of personal reflection and prayer each day are enough to strengthen the neural circuit in our brain that enhances social awareness and empathy. Prayer grants us a heightened sense of compassion and eases negative emotions that we feel about others. Those who reap the greatest mental and physical benefit from prayer are the people who approach God in prayer like Jesus did, looking to the Almighty as our guide, partner, and collaborator on this life’s journey. With God’s help we find the refreshment and balance that are needed to step back into the world for positive action. Dr. Paul Hokemeyer writes that “prayer is the fuel that lights the fire of action.”

When the disciples finally caught up with Jesus in his quiet place, the Lord was refreshed and ready for action. In his prayerful time with his heavenly Father, he discerned that God was calling him onward. There were other people and places in need of his good news and healing love. One sermon at a time, one miracle at a time, one shared meal at a time, one caring interaction at a time, he would draw this fuming and fussy world into the arms of his heavenly parent, so that others might know that they are beloved. May we do the same.

Resources:

Andrade, Chittaranjan. “Prayer and healing: A medical and scientific perspective on randomized controls” in NIH National Library of Medicine, Oct-Dec 2009. Accessed online at https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles.

Beebe, Dr. Gayle D. “How Faith and Prayer Benefit the Brain” in Westmont Magazine, Spring 2012. Accessed online at https://westmont.edu

Bernstein, Elizabeth. “The Science of Prayer” in The Wall Street Journal, May 17, 2020. Accessed online at www.wsj.com

Foster, Richard. Prayer: Finding the Heart’s True Home, San Francisco: Harper, 1992.

Skinner, Matthew. “Commentary on Mark 1:29-39” in Preaching This Week, Feb. 8, 2015. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org

Spector, Nicole. “This Is Your Brain on Prayer and Meditation” in Today: Wellness, Oct. 20, 2017. Accessed online at https://www.nbcnews.com/

Mark 1:29-39

29As soon as they left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. 30Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. 31He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them. 32That evening, at sundown, they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons. 33And the whole city was gathered around the door. 34And he cured many who were sick with various diseases and cast out many demons; and he would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew him. 35In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. 36And Simon and his companions hunted for him. 37When they found him, they said to him, “Everyone is searching for you.” 38He answered, “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.” 39And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.

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She Who Reconciles

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Poem for a Tuesday — “She Who Reconciles” by Rainer Maria Rilke

She who reconciles the ill-matched threads

of her life, and weaves them gratefully

into a single cloth —

it’s she who drives the loudmouths from the hall

and clears it for a different celebration

where the one guest is you.

In the softness of evening

it’s you she receives.

You are the partner of her loneliness,

the unspeaking center of her monologues.

With each disclosure you encompass more

and she stretches beyond what limits her,

to hold you.

— from Rilke’s Book of Hours, translated by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy. Riverhead Books: New York, 1996, I 17, p. 64.

Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926) was a Bohemian-Austrian poet and novelist. He was the only son of an unhappy marriage. His mother mourned the death of an earlier daughter. During Rilke’s early years, she sought to recover the lost girl through the boy. According to Rilke, he had to wear “fine clothes” and “was a plaything [for his mother], like a big doll.” He attended military school and trade school before studying literature, art history, and philosophy in Prague and Munich. He was a mystic, proto-modernist, and early proponent of psychoanalysis. He traveled extensively throughout Europe and Russia before settling in Switzerland. At the time of his death from leukemia, his work was largely unknown to the reading public, but his posthumous followers have been many. He is now considered the most lyrical and influential of the German early modernists.

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Morning Poem

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Poem for a Tuesday — “Morning Poem” by Mary Oliver

Every morning

the world

is created.

Under the orange

sticks of the sun

the heaped

ashes of the night

turn into leaves again

and fasten themselves to the high branches–

and the ponds appear

like black cloth

on which are painted islands

of summer lilies.

If it is your nature

to be happy

you will swim away along the soft trails

for hours, your imagination

alighting everywhere.

And if your spirit

carries within it

the thorn

that is heavier than lead–

if it’s all you can do

to keep on trudging–

there is still

somewhere deep within you

a beast shouting that the earth

is exactly what it wanted–

each pond with its blazing lilies

is a prayer heard and answered

lavishly,

every morning,

whether or not

you have ever dared to be happy,

whether or not

you have ever dared to pray.

in Mary Oliver, New and Selected Poems. Boston: Beacon Press, 1992, pp. 106-107

The late Mary Oliver had a singular ability to attend to the natural world and, with the sparest of words, plumb truths that speak to the heart. She won the Pulitzer Prize and the National Book Award. Raised in a midwestern Christian home, she attended Sunday school but struggled to accept the doctrine of the resurrection and opted out of confirmation. She was deeply spiritual and spent a lifetime in pursuit of the holy. Oliver said, “I know that a life is much richer with a spiritual part to it. And I also think nothing is more interesting. So I cling to it.”

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Sighs Too Deep for Words

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Sighs Too Deep for Words” Romans 8:26-39

Monica has given up on praying. She’s a single Mom with two young children. She works two jobs to try to cover the bills. She tends to little ones, including her own, at a local daycare during the week. She minds the register at the Quikmart on the weekends. Her ex plays games with his child support payments, so she is almost always on the verge of a financial crisis. Monica has prayed for better work. She has prayed that her ex would change. She has prayed that the landlord will be patient and that her children won’t know how stressed and worried she truly is. Monica believes in God. She just isn’t sure that God believes in her.

Fred isn’t sure what to pray for or how to pray these days. He lost his longtime job when the boss caught him drinking again. Then last month, he got pulled over for a DWI—and it wasn’t the first. The judge ruled that Fred could either spend some time in jail or try a residential treatment program for his alcoholism. It isn’t as if Fred hasn’t tried to quit drinking before. He has even had a few stretches of sobriety, but he always ends up right back where he started, defeated, ashamed, and drinking. His wife has had it and his friends are worried.

Lori and Phil used to pray together, but that was before Lori’s parents moved in. When Lori’s Dad broke his hip, the social worker at the hospital said that the two could no longer live on their own.  Her Mom has Alzheimer’s disease. Her once sunny disposition is now often angry and confused. Lori left work to care for her parents. Each week brings a new round of doctor visits and healthcare expenses.  Not long ago, her Mom wandered off while working in the garden and the police brought her home. Lori and Phil feel like they are failing as caregivers. They know things will only get worse, and they are too tired and overwhelmed to even know what to pray for.

We all have times when we feel that we are clean out of prayers. We have worried God for years about the same concern. We get overwhelmed by circumstances beyond our control. We are not our better selves and the burden of our bad behavior feels like a wedge between us and the holy. We wonder if God hears us. We question if God cares about us. We fear that God doesn’t love us.

Paul’s letter to the church in Rome suggests that those first Christians in the imperial city also found it hard to pray. We know that the Roman church found a start in the Jewish community there. The origin of the Jewish colony at Rome dated to the year 63 BCE, when General Pompei, after the capture of Jerusalem, brought back a large number of prisoners of war who were sold as slaves. Those who earned their freedom lived in the poorest quarters of the city where they served as peddlers, shopkeepers, domestic workers, and tradespeople. We know that when Christian teachers came to Rome, it split the Jewish community into two camps: traditionalists and those who believed that Jesus is Lord. The conflict between the two parties was so bitter that in the year 49 CE, Emperor Claudius expelled the Jews from the city, just to keep the peace.

The circumstance of the Christian community certainly needed prayer: exile, poverty, infighting, and imperial persecution. Yet the Roman Christians, perhaps worn out and hopeless, struggled to pray. Paul, in the verses leading up to today’s reading, describes the Romans as groaning, as if with the terrible birth pangs of a woman in labor, as they waited, short on hope and long on fear, for the coming of God’s Kingdom.

The Apostle Paul assured his friends that even when they could not find the words to pray, God knew their circumstance. The Holy Spirit, whom Jesus had promised would be their advocate and comforter, was at work within them. With sighs too deep for words, the Spirit interceded, bridging the gap between heaven and earth, even when they could not. God knew and God cared. It might have felt impossible for them to imagine, but all things would work together for their good.

When our spiritual ancestor John Calvin read Paul’s words to the church in Rome, he made the connection between the suffering of the Roman Christians and the suffering of Christ. In the neighborly and imperial persecution that the Romans daily endured, they knew something of the experience of Jesus. They personally identified with a Savior who was condemned by powerful enemies and persecuted even to the point of death on the cross. As they identified with Christ in his suffering, Jesus was with them in theirs.

Calvin wrote, “There is then no reason for anyone to complain that the bearing of their cross is beyond their own strength, since we are sustained by a celestial power. . .. The Spirit takes on himself a part of the burden, by which our weakness is oppressed; so that he not only helps and [sustains] us, but lifts us up; as though he went under the burden with us.” Far from being separated from God, the Roman church was united with Christ, who, by the power of the Holy Spirit, shouldered their burdens with them and for them.

I’m sure that Paul’s words sounded every bit as comforting and reassuring to the church in Rome as they do to us. In all our times of careworn sorrow, in all our places of overwhelming need, in all our frailty and failure, we are not alone. The Spirit is here, praying within us. Jesus is alongside us, bearing the load.

Paul assures us this morning that nothing can separate us from the love of God, a love that was most fully expressed in the suffering of Christ. Not hardship or distress or persecution; not famine or indigence or peril or sword. Not single parenthood or low-paying jobs. Not deadbeat dads or having more month than money. Not alcohol or meth or opiates. Not lost jobs or strained marriages. Not DWIs or court-mandated rehab. Not growing years and declining health. Not broken hips or Alzheimer’s. Not the mounting costs of doctors or the inadequacy of senior care in the Adirondacks. Nothing. That’s right nothing can separate us from the love of God. In all these things, in all these everyday challenges that can leave us feeling at a loss for words, at a loss for prayer, we are more than conquerors through Jesus, whose Spirit prays within us. Thanks be to God.

I like to think that Paul’s words encouraged the people in Rome. In Paul’s reassurance of the work of the Holy Spirit and the love of God, their groans became language.  The Romans found the courage to pray for themselves and pray for one another. How else could the Roman church transform within a few centuries from a frightened and persecuted sect of Judaism to the most powerful religious center in the empire?

As we go forth into this week, we will be certain to meet others who do not have the wherewithal to pray. They are stressed-out parents and over-worked professionals. They struggle with addiction or mental illness. They just got a tough diagnosis. They are reeling with grief. They feel alone and separated from God.  Perhaps this morning, we could take our leading from the Holy Spirit. We could pray with them and for them, even if we simply draw near with the love of Christ and our sighs too deep for words. May it be so.

Resources

Anna Bowden. “Commentary on Romans 8:26-39” in Preaching This Week, July 30, 2023. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Israel Kumundzandu. “Commentary on Romans 8:26-39” in Preaching This Week, July 30, 2017. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Mary Hinkle Shore. “Commentary on Romans 8:26-39” in Preaching This Week, July 26, 2020. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

George Edmundson. “The Church in Rome in the First Century,” Lecture 1 of The Bampton Lectures, Oxford University. London: Longmans, Green and Company, 2013.

John Calvin. Commentary on Romans. Accessed online at https://biblehub.com/commentaries/calvin/.

Romans 8:26-39

26Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. 27And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. 28We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.

29For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn within a large family. 30And those whom he predestined he also called; and those whom he called he also justified; and those whom he justified he also glorified.

31What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? 32He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? 33Who will bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. 34Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us. 35Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? 36As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all day long; we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered.” 37No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, 39nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

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Nat Turner in the Clearing

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Poem for a Tuesday — “Nat Tuner in the Clearing” by Alvin Aubert

Ashes, Lord–

But warm still from the fire that cheered us,
Lighted us in this clearing where it seems
Scarcely an hour ago we feasted on
Burnt pig from our tormentors’ unwilling
Bounty and charted the high purpose your
Word had launched us on, And now, my comrades
Dead, or taken; your servant, pressed by the
Bloody yelps of hounds, forsaken, save for
The stillness of the word that persists quivering
And breath-moist on his tongue; and these faint coals
Soon to be rushed to dying glow by the
Indifferent winds of miscarriage-What now,
My Lord? A priestess once, they say, could write
On leaves, unlock the time-bound spell of deeds
Undone. I let fall upon these pale remains
Your breath-moist word, preempt the winds, and give
Them now their one last glow, that some dark child
In time to come might pass this way and, in
This clearing, read and know….

In Furious Flower. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2004, p. 46.

Alvin Aubert was a scholar, poet, and editor, shaped by the African American culture and rural life of his childhood along the Mississippi River. He left school early to work, joined the Army, and earned his GED. After his service, Aubert returned to school, earning a Master’s degree from the University of Michigan, where he was a Woodrow Wilson National Fellow. His writing was strongly influenced by the blues tradition. In addition to his six books of poetry, Aubert was a gifted educator. He taught at Southern University, SUNY Fredonia, and Wayne State University. He founded and edited the award-winning journal Obsidian, noted for publishing works in English by writers of African descent worldwide. “Nat Turner in the Clearing,” written about the 1831 slave rebellion in Southampton, Virginia, was Aubert’s first published poem. On a hot summer day in his office at Southern University, Aubert had just finished reading “The Confession of Nat Turner” when he felt the presence of Turner there in the room with him. He picked up the pen and began to write, casting the poem in the form of a prayer.

Witness

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Poem for a Tuesday — “Witness” by Denise Levertov

“Sometimes the mountain
is hidden from me in veils
of cloud, sometimes
I am hidden from the mountain
in veils of inattention, apathy, fatigue,
when I forget or refuse to go
down to the shore or a few yards
up the road, on a clear day,
to reconfirm
that witnessing presence.”

in A Book of Luminous Things, ed. Czeslaw Milosz. New York: Harcourt Brace, 1996, p. 72.

When British-American poet Denise Levertov was five years old, she declared she would be a writer. At the age of 12, she sent some of her poems to T. S. Eliot, who replied with a two-page letter of encouragement. Her father Paul Levertov was a Russian Hasidic Jew who taught at the University of Leipzig. During the First World War, he was held under house arrest as an enemy alien by virtue of his ethnicity. After emigrating to the UK, he converted to Christianity and became an Anglican priest. Denise said, “My father’s Hasidic ancestry, his being steeped in Jewish and Christian scholarship and mysticism, his fervor and eloquence as a preacher, were factors built into my cells.” She was described by the New York Times as, “the most subtly skillful poet of her generation, the most profound, the most modest, the most moving.” She wrote and published twenty-four books of poetry.

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How’s Your Prayer Life?

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — How’s Your Prayer Life? Luke 11:1-13

If you visit the John Wesley House in London, you will see that the 18th century father of Methodism had a small walk-in closet off his bedroom.  This prayer room is sometimes called “The Powerhouse of Methodism” because Wesley believed that his prayerful efforts within the closet were key to the success of his mission to the world.  Wesley began each day with two hours in his closet, praying with an open Bible and a fervent heart.

19th century Plymouth Brethren evangelist George Muller was the master of persistent prayer. By his own admission, the youthful Muller was a thief, liar, and gambler, but he attended a prayer meeting in 1825 that transformed his life.  Muller committed to praying daily for five of his young friends who were far from Christ.  A few months later, one of them had a conversion experience.  Within two years, two more found Jesus.  The fourth friend came to faith after twenty-five years.  Muller died in 1898, having prayed for the fifth friend for sixty-three years and eight months.  Before Muller was buried, his prayer was finally answered as the fifth friend finally committed his life to Christ.

Rosa Parks is best known as a Civil Rights activist with the courage to launch the Montgomery Bus Boycott in 1955 by refusing to move to the back of the bus.  We are less likely to know that Rosa Parks was a person of profound faith who grounded her activism in prayer.  In her book Quiet Strength, Parks writes that God assured her that she would not be alone on the bus on that fateful day. “I felt the Lord would give me the strength to endure whatever I had to face,” Parks stated, “God did away with all my fear . . . It was time for someone to stand up—or in my case, sit down.”

We all know prayer warriors, those folks who are ever eager to take it to the Lord in prayer. A trusted friend, a family member, a pastor, or a link in the local prayer chain, these are the people we turn to when we get that tough diagnosis, or there are problems on the home front, or our kids are in trouble. We trust that they will listen deeply and pray passionately, letting God know that help is needed.

Even though prayer is a cornerstone of the faithful life and we are well-acquainted with champions of prayer, we may struggle to have a meaningful, committed practice of prayer. Our calendars are so full that the only times left for prayer are those few minutes at the close of the day when we fall exhausted into bed, unable to keep our eyes open long enough to express the confessions and intercessions that we long to lift to God.  When we do find the time to pray, we worry about what to say.  What are the right words to get God’s attention? How specific do we need to get? How do we know that God is listening? Perhaps most daunting of all tasks is public prayer, praying out loud in a group.  We might rather eat Brussels sprouts or take the garbage out than spontaneously pray in a roomful of strangers.  If we were being deeply honest, we might admit that we place our trust in those prayer warriors because we believe that they have something that we don’t, as if when God was handing out the prayer power, some of us got a substandard quotient.

If it makes us feel any better, even the great Reformer Martin Luther sometimes fell short in prayer.  Luther once infamously quipped, “I have so much to do today that I must spend the first three hours in prayer.” He notoriously was reported to have said that an exception should be made for those of us who struggle with prayer—we should begin our days with four hours of prayer.  But in a letter to his friend Philip Melancthon, Luther confessed that he too fell short in prayer, “I sit here like a fool, and hardened in leisure, pray little, do not sigh for the church of God, yet burn in a big fire of my untamed body. In short, I should be ardent in spirit, but I am ardent in the flesh, in lust, in laziness, leisure, and sleepiness. … Already eight days have passed in which I have written nothing, in which I have not prayed or studied.”

Jesus’ disciples must have also struggled with prayer.  That’s why they asked Jesus to give them a lesson on how to pray.  They had noticed how vital prayer was for Jesus.  The Lord seemed to find the fuel for his dynamic ministry in times of quiet communion with his heavenly Father.  Before naming the twelve disciples, Jesus spent the night in prayer.  While working wonders of healing or casting out demons, Jesus turned to prayer.  To find the strength to endure his betrayal and execution, Jesus prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane.  Jesus was a man steeped in prayer. 

The pattern of prayer that Jesus taught his friends is surprisingly simple.  In Luke’s gospel, the Lord’s Prayer is four terse sentences.  Jesus tells us to begin with praise, acknowledging the holiness of God and our longing for the coming of God’s kingdom.  Then, we pray for what we truly need: sustenance to fuel our bodies/, the healing of relationships through forgiveness and a willingness to be forgiven/, and lastly, protection from life’s temptations and difficulties.  According to Jesus, all we really need to pray are four simple heartfelt sentences that envision God as the source of our world, our lives, our healing, and our protection.  That’s it.

It must have sounded too good to be true to the disciples.  I can imagine that they cast doubtful looks at one another as Jesus disclosed the secrets of being a real prayer warrior, because Jesus followed up his lesson on prayer with two playful, pointed teachings to bring his point on prayer home.  The story of the friend who comes knocking at midnight assures us that God hears our prayers and responds.  The example of a parent who lovingly provides good things for his children assures us that God, our heavenly parent, always provides what is good and right for us.  Jesus makes it sound so easy.

And maybe that’s the real point to Jesus’ lesson.  Prayer is meant to be easy.  It’s meant to be as natural as the drawing of breath, the sympathy of a friend, or the care of a parent.  Maybe the trouble is that we pray from the head, looking for those eloquent words, hoping to steer the course of the world, wanting to forge a future that meets our personal vision of how things ought to be.  But Jesus teaches us to pray from the heart, to pray in ways that acknowledge the greatness of God and our personal vulnerability.  When we pray from the head, we expect the world to change, which is often a recipe for disappointment, but when we pray from the heart, we can expect to be changed.  Heartfelt prayer coaxes us to grow into the people God created us to be.  Heartfelt prayer equips us to live to the best of our ability in a world that is less than perfect and sometimes bitterly disappointing.

So, I invite us to make a fresh start on prayer this morning, to keep things simple and heartfelt.  Perhaps you might even allow me to help you, guiding you in praying the way that Jesus invited us to pray.  I invite you to close your eyes and bow your head as I lead you in a prayer from the heart. 

First, give silent praise for the holiness and majesty of God, who stretches the heavens like a tent and puffs into our lungs the breath of life . . .  We praise and thank you, God.

Allow your heart to yearn for God’s kingdom, for a world where righteousness and peace will kiss each other . . . Thy Kingdom come.

Now think about your day ahead.  Ask the Lord to provide what is needed, whether it is strength or love, kindness or patience, hope or help.  Trust that what is truly needed will be provided . . . Give us this day our daily bread.

Now, think of a relationship that needs mending.  Perhaps there are hurt feelings, hardness of heart, or weariness of soul.  Ask God to bring healing to that relationship.  Trust that the Lord is already at work . . . Forgive us, O Lord, and make us a forgiving people.

Finally, consider a place of difficulty or temptation in your life.  Feel the weightiness and the challenge of it.  Now, ask the Lord to be your safety and protection.  Remember that although you may feel weak, God is strong and God is with you . . . Keep us safe from temptation, O God, and deliver us from evil.

As we finish, we might even resolve to try this again, to make a daily discipline of doing what Jesus did.  May we find the strength and the vision to live fully and faithfully through simple, heartfelt prayer.

Resources:

David Lose. “Commentary on Luke 11:1-13” in Preaching This Week, July 25, 2010. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/.

Elisabeth John. “Commentary on Luke 11:1-13” in Preaching This Week, July 28, 2013. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/.

Nivien Sarras. “Commentary on Luke 11:1-13” in Preaching This Week, July 24, 2022. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/.

Jaroslav Pelikan and Helmut T. Lehmann, eds. Luther’s Works: American Edition. 55 vols. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1955-1975.

Jared Brock. “10 Prayer Warriors Who Changed History” in Flowing Faith, June 9, 2015. Accessed online at http://www.flowingfaith.com/2015/06/10-prayer-warriors.html.

Luke 11:1-13

11 He was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.” 2 So he said to them, “When you pray, say:

Father, may your name be revered as holy.
May your kingdom come.
3 Give us each day our daily bread.
4 And forgive us our sins,
for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.
And do not bring us to the time of trial.”

5 And he said to them, “Suppose one of you has a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves of bread, 6 for a friend of mine has arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.’ 7 And he answers from within, ‘Do not bother me; the door has already been locked, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot get up and give you anything.’ 8 I tell you, even though he will not get up and give him anything out of friendship, at least because of his persistence he will get up and give him whatever he needs.

9 “So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. 10 For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. 11 Is there anyone among you who, if your child asked for[e] a fish, would give a snake instead of a fish? 12 Or if the child asked for an egg, would give a scorpion? 13 If you, then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit[f] to those who ask him!”

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Seeing God

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attending to the presence of the holy in the everyday

“Briefly It Enters, and Briefly Speaks” by Jane Kenyon

“I am the blossom pressed in a book
and found again after 200 years . . .
I am the maker, the lover, and the keeper . . .
When the young girl who starves
sits down to a table
she will sit beside me . . .
I am food on the prisoner’s plate . . .
I am water rushing to the wellhead,
filling the pitcher until it spills . . .
I am the patient gardener
of the dry and weedy garden . . .
I am the stone step,
the latch, and the working hinge . . .
I am the heart contracted by joy . . .
the longest hair, white
before the rest . . .
I am the basket of fruit
presented to the widow . . .
I am the musk rose opening
unattended, the fern on the boggy summit . . .
I am the one whose love
overcomes you,
already with you
when you think to call my name . . . .”

in Cries of the Spirit, ed. Marilyn Sewell. Boston: Beacon Press, 1991. P. 239


When was the last time you saw God? Your answer to that question may depend on whether or not you were paying attention. The witness of scripture assures us that God is always with us.

Sometimes, especially during an Adirondack summer, we can’t miss God. We hear God in loon song, or see God stretched across the Milky Way. Our holy encounters leave us filled with peace and life. At other times, we can be so busy or distracted that we miss God entirely. We may go for days – or even weeks – without the awareness that God is with us. Our self-preoccupation and inattention to the holy can leave us feeling lonely and desolate.

Ignatius of Loyola, a leader of the Counter Reformation of the 16th century, developed a prayer practice that encourages us to spend time each day considering how we have felt close to or far away from God. He called it the Examen (don’t worry, no test will be given). Ignatius believed that, by attending to our daily encounters with the holy, we naturally grow more and more into the will of God for our lives.

Would you like to give it a try? Set aside 15 to 20 minutes for your prayer time. Begin with a moment of silence, reminding yourself that God is with you. You may wish to light a candle or read a verse of scripture.

Silently and prayerfully reflect on your day from beginning to end. First, consider the ways that you have experienced God today. How has God blessed your day? For what are you most grateful today? Next, consider how you have turned away from God’s will for you today. For what are you least grateful this day?

You may wish to use a journal to record what you notice about your day. Or, you could share the Examen with a prayer partner, someone you love and trust. Don’t try to fix things or judge yourself. Just notice, and trust that the Holy Spirit will be at work to help you grow into the person whom God created you to be.

Now, take time to pray. Celebrate God’s blessings and ask for God’s pardon and encouragement.

Conclude your prayer time with a moment of silent thanksgiving for God’s abiding presence. Try doing this every day, if only for a week or two. I promise that you will feel closer to God and more deeply aware of the holiness that is already with us when we think to call God’s name.

Psalm 139:7-10

“Where can I go from your spirit?
Or where can I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.
If I take the wings of the morning
and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me fast.”

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