A PERSONAL STORY
The negotiation went on for years. Every night there was a bargain made; promises of goodness and devotion offered in exchange for protection. Although the trading parties involved were unequal, somehow, the deal worked out between a pre-teen and the Creator of the cosmos.
That was, at least, how it played out in my adolescent mind. At the time, I had convinced myself that if I missed a single night of my transactional prayer, it would have immediate and devastating consequences. If I stopped my prayers, my beloved Grandpa would die. Fear motivated and drove my daily devotion. I had to pray; otherwise, bad things would happen to the ones I loved.
My fear-filled prayer life began on the night that the paramedics wheeled my lifeless grandfather out the door of my childhood home. The memories of that day are splotchy at best. I was around ten years old.
My family spent the day on an outing. Everyone took part - parents, siblings, an uncle, and my grandparents. We drove a few hours away to pick dandelions, an essential ingredient for the dandelion wine that we made according to an heirloom recipe.
Gathering the yellow, flowering weeds was an excellent excuse for a picnic in the country. By the end of a long day in the sun, we were exhausted. I probably fell asleep in the car on the way home.
When we got home, Grandpa had a massive heart attack. My parents called the local rescue squad - it was in the days before the numbers 9-1-1 meant anything. The volunteers rushed my grandfather to the Emergency Room of the local hospital. On the way, they brought him back to life.
Without question, it was the scariest episode of my waning childhood. Even though I have lost the details of that night, I remember the fear. The fear of death lingers after I have forgotten and repressed the rest.
It was the fear from that night that motivated years of my pleading with God. Although the messages that I heard from the pulpit on Sundays spoke of a loving God, fear drove my prayer wagon.
This fear was not the kind of which Martin Luther spoke when he encouraged Christians to love and fear God above all things. That "fear" is a deep reverence and respect. When one fears God with heart, mind, and spirit - there is humble adoration. Love permeates.
The kind of fear that consumed me after Grandpa's heart attack was diabolical. Instead of love, it sought to dominate and subjugate. Lacking the grace that allows for freedom, it demanded and held me in bondage. Either I pray or else.
When that kind of fear propels our interaction with God, we shift from a love-based relationship to a harsh economic exchange. Instead of opening our awareness to the gracious presence of God in our lives, it shuts things down. Barriers pop up that prevent us from receiving the gift that God offers.
We lapse into thinking that our association with God's blessings depends upon the things we say and do. Like the Pharisees of old, we look to the proper adherence of rigid laws, traditions, practices as we seek to manipulate divine action for personal benefit. We enter a bargaining process with the intent of getting the best deal possible for ourselves and the ones we love.
It was different when Jesus prayed. When you read the gospel stories about Jesus’s ministry, you discover that Jesus prayed often. For example, in the gospel of Luke, before every major miracle and move, Jesus goes off by himself to pray.
Although most of the content of these prayers is unwritten, what we do have is filled with a deep humility. Jesus emptied himself in the presence of God. For him, prayer was not a request - a shopping list of items needed at the divine grocery - but was a connection. Through prayer, Jesus opens himself to God’s presence and will.
I have learned that the more scripted I make my prayers, the less they are about being open to God’s presence. I try to catch myself when I start to get out my shopping list of things I need God to do for me and for the ones I love. That is not to say that I don’t share my specific concerns about particular people. I do. I just don’t shop at the divine grocery anymore.
I’ve stopped bargaining and making deals that God ‘can’t refuse.’ After I name the needs that are weighing heavy on my heart, I silence myself. Trusting in God’s mercy and care for all humanity, including the ones that are dearest to me, I stop talking.
It is my way of saying, “thy will be done” without saying this oft-used phrase. The reason I don’t say ‘thy will be done’ - which quotes Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane - is because deep inside myself it lacks authenticity. My heart is still connected to that adolescent boy who wants things to turn out well. I would be lying, ninety-percent of the time. Honest.
God knows this about me. How can I really hide from my Creator?
So I try to keep it real. I share my deepest concerns and then I ask for God to be present in my life and in the life of those I lift up. I pray for strength and wisdom to meet the fears and fragility of life. I breathe deeply, allowing each breath to fill my body with the very ruah/pneuma/spirit of God. I seek the calm and peace which passes all understanding as I enter into silence. Trusting and waiting in the presence of God, I yearn for the opening of hope’s door.
STEP THREE: PRAY
Breath of Life, come. Empty the frightened places within my spirit. Push away the fears that I have for those that I love. I name their names before you now - (enter the names of those for whom you pray). Embrace them with your presence that they might find strength in your steadfast love and care. Give them wisdom and courage to meet the challenges that they face this day. Replace the fears that fester within my troubled spirit that I might instead focus on doing what I can to show them my support, love, and care. Through Christ, amen.
