Prayer for Transfiguration Sunday

It can be difficult to pray in public.

Sometimes it’s a matter of finding the right words.

There is pressure to use attractive words—exotic words with multiple syllables—and the temptation to search for lyrical phrases—and most fun of all, words with a second meaning, a hidden layer to be appreciated by the sensitive listener.

Then I remember. I prepare for prayer, not a recitation.

So I turn to the Sunday morning scripture reading and wonder how to pray this story of Christ's Transfiguration. What does Jesus on the mountain with Elijah and Moses have to do with those we feel alone? How is Peter’s offer to build three tents relevant to those who worry about losing their homes? I imagine the voice, booming out, “This is my son”, and wonder who else in our midst longs to hear the voice of God.

I fall into the story, and stop searching for my words, pretty words, unique words. I listen, and the prayers are there, because we are there in the Transfiguration story. We are the ones awed by the dazzling presence of God in our midst, we are the ones uncertain of how to respond to the events of our lives, we are the ones who need to hear God say, "you are my beloved child."

Is it enough?

Have I gotten past my words, my desires, and stumbled into our prayers? Is it enough?

Probably not.

But it’s not up to me. For when all is said, we will go beyond these words I have written and prayed, and pray together the words Jesus taught.

That will be enough.

Praying Together During Lent

The prayer Jesus taught begins with "Our", so it is fitting that we take time to pray together through Lent.  While our schedules do not always allow us to pray in the same place at the same time, we can join together in creative ways, to reflect and pray as a community.

At this Website we will discuss the Lord's prayer.  Each week our bloggers will write their thoughts about a section of the prayer.  Join in the conversation as a guest blogger or by writing comments.

On Ash Wednesday we will set up stations throughout the Park on Polk, each depicting part of the prayer.  We invite you to take time during the 40 days of Lent to pray and walk through the park, thinking about the words you pray as you reflect on others' images of the prayer. 

Throughout Lent, our ministers will offer prayers for wholeness and healing.  Immediately after worship services, join them in Latimer Chapel for a time of silent prayer and reflection.  Those who wish may come to the altar rail, where our ministers will offer prayers and anoint with oil.

Pointing to the Mystery of God

There are certain authors whose works I cherish; when read their descriptions of their own experiences of God, it as though I am praying along with them.  Early on in my “revived” Christian journey I gravitated toward writers like Richard Foster, Evelyn Underhill, Thomas a Kempis and Thomas R. Kelly. Their writings each reflect years of listening to God and responding with obedience.  As I prayed with them, my soul seemed to open up to God. 

Because I am a bookish person, it took me a while to realize that there are certain people that are like that, too.  They also encourage my soul, with a word or gesture.  When I pray with the UMM prayer group, I hear in their voices the years of turning to God, opening self to God in as they lift the concerns of others.  With others, praying one on one, I hear a desire to know God, a desire to understand God’s presence in this world.  These passions are contagious.

I imagine this must have been what it was like for Jesus’ disciples.  When with him, they tapped into Jesus’ relationship with God.  No wonder they asked, Lord teach us to pray.  What are the boundaries within which we can hear the “loving, caring, gentle presence of God” (135)?

Henri points out that Jesus learned obedience through his sufferings and struggles (136).  As the writer of Hebrews points out, although [Jesus] was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered (Hebrews 5:8).

I think that’s what I hear in the voices of the authors and the prayer partners I treasure--their struggles to be obedient and listen to God, despite disappointments and experiences of loss.  I hear in their voices the peace of time spent in God’s presence, the quiet certainty of knowing God as loving and caring.  

Their words, their smiles, their tears point beyond themselves. 

That’s who I want to be when I grow up.  

In solitude

In solitude we become aware that our worth is not the same as our usefulness.

In solitude…My intention is to listen to You. Yet, I replay yesterday’s hallway conversation. Was I too hurried? I told her if she needs me to call. Did she know that was earnest, or does she think it merely polite?

Gently I tell myself no, don’t think of this. This conversation is Yours. Abba, I turn to you.

In solitude…I remember the appointment later today. What does he want? I’m sure he wants me to do something. Do I have time for a new project? What if I need to say no, will I know what to say?

Gently I say no, not this either. This time is Yours. Abba, I turn to you.

In solitude…I wonder whether we could live on my salary alone. My thoughts skitter over to the mortgage, cutting out restaurants, could we remove the house phone and use only cell phones?

These worries, they are Yours. Abba, I turn to you.

In solitude…I wonder if I can squeeze in a peek at the match. Does Mark know that I wish I could be there to watch him and cheer on the team?

This thought is Yours. Abba, I turn to you.

In solitude… the clock ticks, the puppy snuffles.

These too are Yours. Abba, I turn to you.

In solitude…I wanted to listen to You, but instead kept thinking. I wanted revelation. This desire, too, I give to you.

In solitude we become aware that our worth is not the same as our usefulness.

A Million Little Conversations

10 minutes a day listening to Jesus?

I can't do it.

I can't do it because it feels wrong.

It feels wrong because it's as if I'm playing God.  And God, desperate for my attention and affection, will work with my schedule.

Instead I want to practice the presence of God among the clutter and clatter of everyday life.  Not as a recurring event on my calendar.  And not as a periodic retreat.

I want to be inconvenienced by God.  That keeps me in my place.  And let's God be God.

I want a real relationship.  One that involves hanging out and talking and listening and playing and doing.  One that isn't uncomfortable in silence.  One that is honest.  One that is a million little things throughout the day.

As I'm inconvenienced each day with my cravings and Lenten commitments, I am reminded of my Lord's eternal presence.  I am reminded that my life is about Him, not me.

Prayer is a million little conversations with and without words.  Not a single moment in my day.