Luke 1:67-79
His father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesied:
“Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel,
because he has come to his people and redeemed them.
He has raised up a horn[a] of salvation for us
in the house of his servant David
(as he said through his holy prophets of long ago),
salvation from our enemies
and from the hand of all who hate us—
to show mercy to our ancestors
and to remember his holy covenant,
the oath he swore to our father Abraham:
to rescue us from the hand of our enemies,
and to enable us to serve him without fear
in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.
And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High;
for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him,
to give his people the knowledge of salvation
through the forgiveness of their sins,
because of the tender mercy of our God,
by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven
to shine on those living in darkness
and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the path of peace.”
• Luke introduces this prayer of Zechariah as a “prophecy.” The Church has traditionally called it the “Canticle of Zechariah,” that is, a song. Furthermore, the Church has traditionally prayed these words of Zechariah as the conclusion to the liturgy of morning prayer in the office of daily prayer, where it is called the Benedictus.
• The song is Zechariah’s prayer of praise to God and expression of gratitude for his song John. It is, however, also a fitting prompt for our own prayer.
• Today, on Christmas Eve, find a moment to slow yourself from all the things that are tugging at you for your attention . . . the food, the family, the last-minute runs to the store . . . and give a few moments of dedicated space to these words. Read the passage two or three times slowly.
• Notice the lines that stir you. You might write them in your journal. Stay with the words or phrases that seem to have the most energy for you. Work with them. Let them speak to you about your life . . . about your hopes . . . about your dashed dreams . . . about your fears . . . about what you hold closest to your heart.
Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 24, 2019
Tuesday, December 3, 2019
First Tuesday of Advent - December 3, 2019
Isaiah 11:1-10
A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse;
from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.
The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him—
the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding,
the Spirit of counsel and of might,
the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the Lord—
and he will delight in the fear of the Lord.
He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes,
or decide by what he hears with his ears;
but with righteousness he will judge the needy,
with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth.
He will strike the earth with the rod of his mouth;
with the breath of his lips he will slay the wicked.
Righteousness will be his belt
and faithfulness the sash around his waist.
The wolf will live with the lamb,
the leopard will lie down with the goat,
the calf and the lion and the yearling[a] together;
and a little child will lead them.
The cow will feed with the bear,
their young will lie down together,
and the lion will eat straw like the ox.
The infant will play near the cobra’s den,
and the young child will put its hand into the viper’s nest.
They will neither harm nor destroy
on all my holy mountain,
for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Lord
as the waters cover the sea.
In that day the Root of Jesse will stand as a banner for the peoples; the nations will rally to him, and his resting place will be glorious.
**Isaiah's prophecy is full of vivid images for the kingdom of God: roots, stumps, shoots, and branches . . . animals who are natural enemies co-existing. Notice which of the images you are drawn to consider, then choose that images for your meditation. You may want to consider the image from this chapter graphically, creating a collage or by using various colors to sketch a scene. As you create, don't become fixated on the final product. Simply see where the creative process takes you with the image you have chosen.
**The Spirit of the Lord, Isaiah says, includes the spirit of wisdom and of understanding, counsel and strength, knowledge and the holy awe of God. Consider these qualities in your own life. Which ones are manifested within you? Where and how are they displayed in your daily living? And which ones are your growing edge, not yet well-developed within you?
A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse;
from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.
The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him—
the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding,
the Spirit of counsel and of might,
the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the Lord—
and he will delight in the fear of the Lord.
He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes,
or decide by what he hears with his ears;
but with righteousness he will judge the needy,
with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth.
He will strike the earth with the rod of his mouth;
with the breath of his lips he will slay the wicked.
Righteousness will be his belt
and faithfulness the sash around his waist.
The wolf will live with the lamb,
the leopard will lie down with the goat,
the calf and the lion and the yearling[a] together;
and a little child will lead them.
The cow will feed with the bear,
their young will lie down together,
and the lion will eat straw like the ox.
The infant will play near the cobra’s den,
and the young child will put its hand into the viper’s nest.
They will neither harm nor destroy
on all my holy mountain,
for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Lord
as the waters cover the sea.
In that day the Root of Jesse will stand as a banner for the peoples; the nations will rally to him, and his resting place will be glorious.
**Isaiah's prophecy is full of vivid images for the kingdom of God: roots, stumps, shoots, and branches . . . animals who are natural enemies co-existing. Notice which of the images you are drawn to consider, then choose that images for your meditation. You may want to consider the image from this chapter graphically, creating a collage or by using various colors to sketch a scene. As you create, don't become fixated on the final product. Simply see where the creative process takes you with the image you have chosen.
**The Spirit of the Lord, Isaiah says, includes the spirit of wisdom and of understanding, counsel and strength, knowledge and the holy awe of God. Consider these qualities in your own life. Which ones are manifested within you? Where and how are they displayed in your daily living? And which ones are your growing edge, not yet well-developed within you?
Monday, December 2, 2019
First Monday of Advent - December 2, 2019
Isaiah 2:1-5
This is what Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem:
In the last days
the mountain of the Lord’s temple will be established
as the highest of the mountains;
it will be exalted above the hills,
and all nations will stream to it.
Many peoples will come and say,
“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
to the temple of the God of Jacob.
He will teach us his ways,
so that we may walk in his paths.”
The law will go out from Zion,
the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
He will judge between the nations
and will settle disputes for many peoples.
They will beat their swords into plowshares
and their spears into pruning hooks.
Nation will not take up sword against nation,
nor will they train for war anymore.
Come, descendants of Jacob,
let us walk in the light of the Lord.
**Read Isaiah 2:1-5 two or three times, paying special attention to the words or images that stand out to you.
**Take a moment to ponder the words or images you noted in reading the scripture. Do you hear an invitation in the words? Pray with what you are hearing.
**In this context, "mountain" symbolizes a place of encounter with God (Israelite history was full of encounters with God on mountains). What "mountains" (places of encounter) are part of your experience with God? How might those mountains (or the memory of those mountains) be a part of your Advent experience?
** Our swords have not yet been beaten into plowshares, that is, our instruments of war are not yet instruments of harvest and feeding the hungry. Nations are fighting nations, and all are still training for war. Obviously, Isaiah's promised kingdom is still coming. We are still waiting. How do you feel about this? How does this impact you as you sit with God in prayer?
This is what Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem:
In the last days
the mountain of the Lord’s temple will be established
as the highest of the mountains;
it will be exalted above the hills,
and all nations will stream to it.
Many peoples will come and say,
“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
to the temple of the God of Jacob.
He will teach us his ways,
so that we may walk in his paths.”
The law will go out from Zion,
the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
He will judge between the nations
and will settle disputes for many peoples.
They will beat their swords into plowshares
and their spears into pruning hooks.
Nation will not take up sword against nation,
nor will they train for war anymore.
Come, descendants of Jacob,
let us walk in the light of the Lord.
**Read Isaiah 2:1-5 two or three times, paying special attention to the words or images that stand out to you.
**Take a moment to ponder the words or images you noted in reading the scripture. Do you hear an invitation in the words? Pray with what you are hearing.
**In this context, "mountain" symbolizes a place of encounter with God (Israelite history was full of encounters with God on mountains). What "mountains" (places of encounter) are part of your experience with God? How might those mountains (or the memory of those mountains) be a part of your Advent experience?
** Our swords have not yet been beaten into plowshares, that is, our instruments of war are not yet instruments of harvest and feeding the hungry. Nations are fighting nations, and all are still training for war. Obviously, Isaiah's promised kingdom is still coming. We are still waiting. How do you feel about this? How does this impact you as you sit with God in prayer?
Saturday, December 15, 2018
Second Saturday of Advent - December 15, 2018
Sadness Amidst Celebration
Matthew 17:10-13
This strange Advent text comes on the heels of the Transfiguration, where Peter, James, and John see Jesus talking with Moses and Elijah on the mountain. When Peter wants to memorialize the moment with three monuments, the heavenly voice makes sure these three figures are not given equal standing: "This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!"
The text then turns to a discussion of Elijah and his role in the coming of the Messiah.
It seems like a glorious moment . . . Moses and Elijah conversing with Jesus . . . the voice of God declaring Jesus as the Beloved . . . the desire to celebrate and remember by erecting commemorative booths.
Then Jesus drops a bomb . . . his own suffering and death (v. 12). Indeed, in the Gospels, the story of the Transfiguration marks a turning point in the narrative. From this moment onward, Jesus' face is turned toward Jerusalem and the cross. His journey takes on a new urgency, a resoluteness.
We feel something of the shock, the bummed feeling of skipping merrily through Advent when a reading like this is dropped among us, reminding us that the end of Jesus' short life will be a cruel death. We don't want to hear this message as we sing "Joy to the World" and "Silent Night," as we hang lights and put out stockings, as we carefully place the creche which depicts the vulnerable baby, Jesus with Mary, Joseph, and barnyard animals.
While we may not want to hear this news about Jesus, I imagine it resonates with each of us. Every one of us will experience some empty chair around the Christmas table . . . whether the grief is fresh or lingers from decades ago. Persons we love will not be there.
As a pastor, I learned decades ago that more people die in December than any other month. Funeral home directors know these dynamics well, and staff for them. Frequently I would be away with my family for Christmas, only to receive a phone call that a beloved church member had died. I would make the trip back to Bonham or Houston to be with the family. It was almost routine. Sadness seemed to go hand in hand with celebration.
Pancreatic cancer took my own father just a couple of days before Christmas 20 years ago. I remember someone in the family -- I don't remember who -- saying, as we all gathered at mom's house shortly after hearing the news, "What are we going to do about Christmas this year?" Exactly!
Even now, Christmas is the most difficult time of year for my mother. I suspect that holds true for many of us.
Jesus is honest about being fully human. Birth, life, and death are somehow intertwined. We are not given the choice of choosing only those aspects of life that are easy or pleasant. Only when we allow ourselves to be where we truly are -- even in our sadness and grief -- can we move onward with him. Loss and grief are part of life, even during Advent.
It's okay to be where you are.
For Reflection:
Spend a few moments today thinking about those persons who will not be with you for Christmas. Some of them have passed to the next life. From others you are separated by many miles.
In your own quiet space, simply whisper the name of each person who comes to mind. If you'd like, cup your hands in front of you, as if you were holding them out to God as you quietly say their names.
Matthew 17:10-13
This strange Advent text comes on the heels of the Transfiguration, where Peter, James, and John see Jesus talking with Moses and Elijah on the mountain. When Peter wants to memorialize the moment with three monuments, the heavenly voice makes sure these three figures are not given equal standing: "This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!"
The text then turns to a discussion of Elijah and his role in the coming of the Messiah.
It seems like a glorious moment . . . Moses and Elijah conversing with Jesus . . . the voice of God declaring Jesus as the Beloved . . . the desire to celebrate and remember by erecting commemorative booths.
Then Jesus drops a bomb . . . his own suffering and death (v. 12). Indeed, in the Gospels, the story of the Transfiguration marks a turning point in the narrative. From this moment onward, Jesus' face is turned toward Jerusalem and the cross. His journey takes on a new urgency, a resoluteness.
We feel something of the shock, the bummed feeling of skipping merrily through Advent when a reading like this is dropped among us, reminding us that the end of Jesus' short life will be a cruel death. We don't want to hear this message as we sing "Joy to the World" and "Silent Night," as we hang lights and put out stockings, as we carefully place the creche which depicts the vulnerable baby, Jesus with Mary, Joseph, and barnyard animals.
While we may not want to hear this news about Jesus, I imagine it resonates with each of us. Every one of us will experience some empty chair around the Christmas table . . . whether the grief is fresh or lingers from decades ago. Persons we love will not be there.
As a pastor, I learned decades ago that more people die in December than any other month. Funeral home directors know these dynamics well, and staff for them. Frequently I would be away with my family for Christmas, only to receive a phone call that a beloved church member had died. I would make the trip back to Bonham or Houston to be with the family. It was almost routine. Sadness seemed to go hand in hand with celebration.
Pancreatic cancer took my own father just a couple of days before Christmas 20 years ago. I remember someone in the family -- I don't remember who -- saying, as we all gathered at mom's house shortly after hearing the news, "What are we going to do about Christmas this year?" Exactly!
Even now, Christmas is the most difficult time of year for my mother. I suspect that holds true for many of us.
Jesus is honest about being fully human. Birth, life, and death are somehow intertwined. We are not given the choice of choosing only those aspects of life that are easy or pleasant. Only when we allow ourselves to be where we truly are -- even in our sadness and grief -- can we move onward with him. Loss and grief are part of life, even during Advent.
It's okay to be where you are.
For Reflection:
Spend a few moments today thinking about those persons who will not be with you for Christmas. Some of them have passed to the next life. From others you are separated by many miles.
In your own quiet space, simply whisper the name of each person who comes to mind. If you'd like, cup your hands in front of you, as if you were holding them out to God as you quietly say their names.
Saturday, December 10, 2016
Simple Stances for the "Herod within Me"
Noticing that Herod lives within us is not a pleasant experience. It reminds us that we are capable of doing great harm in the world, and it disturbs our illusion that we are better, more enlightened, or more “advanced” than we truly are. In short, to see the Herod within ourselves is a reminder of our humanity, our feet of clay.
Most people want to banish the Herod within, or at least to fix the interior Herod. I don’t believe we can ever completely banish Herod from within us. We can, however, become more and more aware of Herod’s presence, and of the damage Herod inflicts on us and on the world. I offer these simple movements for dealing with the Herod within me.
What can I do about the Herod within me?
1. First, I simply acknowledge that Herod exists within me. I recognize there is a self-interested part of me that highly invested in my own good, rather than the good of others, the good of the world, or the good of God. This is not a condemnation, but an honest assessment of who I am.
2. Second, I bring the recognition that Herod exists with me into my daily living with more and more intention. For example, this afternoon when I notice that I am trying to control the behavior of my friend or family member, I simply notice what I’m doing. I name my behavior. I bring my own behavior and my inner motive to my awareness. Sometimes I’ll even whisper to myself, “This is what Jerry looks like when he is trying to control someone else,” or “This is what Jerry looks like when he feels threatened,” or “This is what Jerry looks like when he is fearful.”
3. Third, when I become aware of my Herod-behavior, I notice without judging it. I don’t tell myself how bad I am, what a failure I am, or what a poor Christian I am. I simply notice this part of me without judging. Judging doesn’t do anything constructive. Rather, judging myself brings along the baggage of guilt (I did something wrong) and shame (I am a bad person or a failure). Notice Herod without judging Herod.
4. Fourth, as best you can in the moment, let go of your desire to control the situation, to manipulate the other person, or to do violence to the situation. Let go. The feelings of power or control or threat may come back 3 seconds later. That’s fine. Let go again. Never stop letting go. Every time you feel threatened, every time you feel yourself resisting – even God – let go . . . let go . . . let go.
5. Finally, find a prayer or gesture that symbolizes “letting go” or helps you move through the moment without lashing out at yourself or others. For example, I’ll sometimes clench my fists tightly, then let them drop open as a sign of letting go. And I’ll repeat that movement several times. Or I’ll pray what is called the Freedom Prayer. “God, free me from the need to control this person.” Or, “God, free me from the insecurity I feel from this threat.” Or, “God, free me from the grip of this fear.” Repeat the Freedom Prayer as often as necessary.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Christmas Eve -- December 24, 2011
Luke 1:67 - 79
His father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesied:
“Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel,
because he has come to his people and redeemed them.
He has raised up a horn of salvation for us
in the house of his servant David
(as he said through his holy prophets of long ago),
salvation from our enemies
and from the hand of all who hate us—
to show mercy to our ancestors
and to remember his holy covenant,
the oath he swore to our father Abraham:
to rescue us from the hand of our enemies,
and to enable us to serve him without fear
in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.
And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High;
for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him,
to give his people the knowledge of salvation
through the forgiveness of their sins,
because of the tender mercy of our God,
by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven
to shine on those living in darkness
and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the path of peace.”
The Song of Zechariah, also known as the Benedictus, is prayed daily each morning in the Liturgy of the Hours. I have prayed it from prayer books and in monastic settings for years. Its words are ingrained in my consciousness. They have been life to me.
The Benedictus is also a wonderfully appropriate Advent prayer. The images fit perfectly with this season of watching for light and waiting in hope.
So for the last three years I've used this prayer as a centerpiece for the weekly Contemplative Worship experience of which I am a part. I personally find it to be a beautiful expression of Advent hope for myself and the world. Others have responded well to it, as well, and found life in its words.
Last weekend, a worshiper in that service noticed that we were still using the Benedictus in worship, especially the last two verses, once or twice in each service. This person noted that had used the same prayer last year in worship, also. She was simply making the observation about the Canticle's prominence in worship.
I responded to her comment by saying, "Yes, we've used it for three years now . . . and we're going to keep saying it until we get it right!"
We all laughed. Of course, I didn't mean, "Until we all say it the right way," or "Until we get the cadence right," or "Until the intonation suits me."
I meant, "We're going to say it until we really open ourselves to its truth."
That is, until we live in the truth that one has come to us to save us from enemies, both enemies in the outer world, but mostly enemies in our internal world . . .
. . . until we open ourselves to worship God without fear and intimation, but in mercy and loving-kindness . . .
. . . until we really get the mercy and compassion of God as it is extended toward us without condition, and then live in it more than talk about it . . .
. . . until we live in the light of God, no matter how dark our situations or our "shadows of death" seem.
. . . until our feet our guided onto the path of peace, so that we not only speak of peace, but actively live into the peace of God for all people.
The Church has been praying the Benedictus daily for centuries. We're still trying to "get it right." And we'll be praying it for a long time yet to come.
A Meditation
On this eve of the birth of Christ, try this for a meditation:
Read through the Canticle of Zechariah once more.
Pick out the line or phrase that seems to have your name written on it.
Pull that line out of the prayer, and then stay with it for a few moments.
Take several tries at putting it into your own words. Paraphrase it.
How is that line being lived out in your life?
Whisper the line quietly several times, until you sense the phrase sinking from your head down into your heart.
Then carry that line with you as a breath prayer through this Christmas Eve.
His father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesied:
“Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel,
because he has come to his people and redeemed them.
He has raised up a horn of salvation for us
in the house of his servant David
(as he said through his holy prophets of long ago),
salvation from our enemies
and from the hand of all who hate us—
to show mercy to our ancestors
and to remember his holy covenant,
the oath he swore to our father Abraham:
to rescue us from the hand of our enemies,
and to enable us to serve him without fear
in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.
And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High;
for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him,
to give his people the knowledge of salvation
through the forgiveness of their sins,
because of the tender mercy of our God,
by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven
to shine on those living in darkness
and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the path of peace.”
The Song of Zechariah, also known as the Benedictus, is prayed daily each morning in the Liturgy of the Hours. I have prayed it from prayer books and in monastic settings for years. Its words are ingrained in my consciousness. They have been life to me.
The Benedictus is also a wonderfully appropriate Advent prayer. The images fit perfectly with this season of watching for light and waiting in hope.
So for the last three years I've used this prayer as a centerpiece for the weekly Contemplative Worship experience of which I am a part. I personally find it to be a beautiful expression of Advent hope for myself and the world. Others have responded well to it, as well, and found life in its words.
Last weekend, a worshiper in that service noticed that we were still using the Benedictus in worship, especially the last two verses, once or twice in each service. This person noted that had used the same prayer last year in worship, also. She was simply making the observation about the Canticle's prominence in worship.
I responded to her comment by saying, "Yes, we've used it for three years now . . . and we're going to keep saying it until we get it right!"
We all laughed. Of course, I didn't mean, "Until we all say it the right way," or "Until we get the cadence right," or "Until the intonation suits me."
I meant, "We're going to say it until we really open ourselves to its truth."
That is, until we live in the truth that one has come to us to save us from enemies, both enemies in the outer world, but mostly enemies in our internal world . . .
. . . until we open ourselves to worship God without fear and intimation, but in mercy and loving-kindness . . .
. . . until we really get the mercy and compassion of God as it is extended toward us without condition, and then live in it more than talk about it . . .
. . . until we live in the light of God, no matter how dark our situations or our "shadows of death" seem.
. . . until our feet our guided onto the path of peace, so that we not only speak of peace, but actively live into the peace of God for all people.
The Church has been praying the Benedictus daily for centuries. We're still trying to "get it right." And we'll be praying it for a long time yet to come.
A Meditation
On this eve of the birth of Christ, try this for a meditation:
Read through the Canticle of Zechariah once more.
Pick out the line or phrase that seems to have your name written on it.
Pull that line out of the prayer, and then stay with it for a few moments.
Take several tries at putting it into your own words. Paraphrase it.
How is that line being lived out in your life?
Whisper the line quietly several times, until you sense the phrase sinking from your head down into your heart.
Then carry that line with you as a breath prayer through this Christmas Eve.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
The Third Thursday of Advent -- December 16, 2010
Psalm 30
I will exalt you, LORD,
for you lifted me out of the depths
and did not let my enemies gloat over me.
LORD my God, I called to you for help,
and you healed me.
You, LORD, brought me up from the realm of the dead;
you spared me from going down to the pit.
Sing the praises of the LORD, you his faithful people;
praise his holy name.
For his anger lasts only a moment,
but his favor lasts a lifetime;
weeping may remain for a night,
but rejoicing comes in the morning.
When I felt secure, I said,
“I will never be shaken.”
LORD, when you favored me,
you made my royal mountain stand firm;
but when you hid your face,
I was dismayed.
To you, LORD, I called;
to the Lord I cried for mercy:
“What is gained if I am silenced,
if I go down to the pit?
Will the dust praise you?
Will it proclaim your faithfulness?
Hear, LORD, and be merciful to me;
LORD, be my help.”
You turned my wailing into dancing;
you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,
that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent.
LORD my God, I will praise you forever.
I've prayed the Old Testament Psalms for a long time now. I pray them in groups and I pray them when I'm alone. I pray all of them, all 150 Psalms of the Hebrew Scriptures.
As you could probably predict when anyone has upheld the same practice over a long period of time, I am different now than I was when I first began. My relationship with God is different. My image of God has changed through the years. Some of that came from these very psalms, and some evolved in other ways.
At some point on the road I began asking some questions about the psalms I prayed. In the beginning I prayed them blindly, with a kind of rote obedience, accepting their language and attitudes at face value. Somewhere along the path I started asking questions about them. In particular, I asked questions about the view of God that underlies many of the Psalms in the Bible.
I won't go into all the questions right here. One concern, however, was the frequency with which the pray-er in the psalms offers to God what I would call "conditional praise."
"Conditional praise" sounds something like this:
"I will exalt you, Lord,
for you lifted me out of the depths . . ." (Ps. 30:1)
Do you see the "condition" in that prayer? "I will praise you, Lord, because you did something for me." Human praise in the Hebrew Psalms often is offered as a response to the rescue or deliverance of God. Humans exalt God because God has done something good in their lives.
It sounds somewhat like a deal the human person works out with God: "God, if you'll do this good thing for me, then I'll praise you." Perhaps it's holy-hostage-taking!
"God, if you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours." Frankly, it sounds pretty petty to me, like a very immature stage of spiritual development.
Over time as I prayed psalms, I became convinced that God is worthy of my praise whether I ever experience God's goodness and rescue in my life or not. I'm not doing God any favors by offering my praise. Praising God, on the other hand, is something I need to do in order to become fully human. I came to understand that at least in my own experience, my praise was not to be contingent on what God did or did not do in my life.
This struggle was part of the impetus for putting the psalms in my own words several years ago. Taking nothing away from the persons who wrote out the original psalms, who prayed with their best understanding of God, I asked myself how I could pray these ideas in my own words. Given my understanding of God and relationship with God, how might I try to say some of the same things? That led to my devotional practice of offering the psalms in my own voice.
So given the original words from Psalm 30 -- one of the texts suggested for today -- how would I pray this prayer? I've given it a go below.
PSALM 30 Psalm-Prayer
A psalm for times that stretch me beyond myself
You are worthy of my praise, God;
Indeed, Your name I will praise,
whether You pull me from this bind or not.
I don’t want my praise, God,
offered in contingency,
tossed at You with stipulations.
In truth, You have not
abandoned me to my own devices
nor left me as food for
the swirling vultures who cannot
wait for my collapse.
You have awakened my soul from slumber, Lord,
You have infused my real experience with Your Spirit-life.
I love You, Lord.
I chant my love-prayer.
I raise my hands in love-thanks.
I offer my life as a love-offering.
When You’ve allowed me to walk in the valley,
darkness my closest companion,
with no vision to see the next step,
I’ve felt the sharp edge of Your love,
giving shape to my life in that moment
as You move me
toward the God-dream for which I was created.
Often I cry out for a season,
the pain stretching me to the edge
as I try to stand under the weight of the moment,
desperate for relief and yearning to see
Your Potter’s hand in the midst of the blackness.
But when You pull the curtain back on the larger picture,
when I see a piece of Your grander design for me and our world,
I’m brought to peace and joy,
a profound thankfulness that You have invited me
to be a part of Your God-project.
Of course, I don’t always see so clearly.
In times when life feels well-ordered
I tend to think it will always be so,
that nothing can shake my well-being.
I forget the power of adversity to shape me into Your heart.
Then, something happens in my outer world
to shatter all my illusions of well-being;
The things and people to which I attach myself get shaken.
They break.
Moths eat.
Rust consumes.
Thieves break in and steal.
Parents get old and die.
Cancer grows.
I hide and weep and carry on as if I were the only one
ever to face adversity!
“How can this happen, God?
How can You stand idly by?
Can’t You do something?”
Of course You could,
but that’s not the point, is it?
You listen.
You extend Presence.
You embody compassion.
You give an inner strength more resilient
than any quick remedy.
You give me a song to sing in the night,
a dance to dance under the moon.
You transform my mourning
and give me peace.
Awake my soul, awake.
Sing psalms to God,
For unto You, my God, is everlasting thanks.
Amen.
I will exalt you, LORD,
for you lifted me out of the depths
and did not let my enemies gloat over me.
LORD my God, I called to you for help,
and you healed me.
You, LORD, brought me up from the realm of the dead;
you spared me from going down to the pit.
Sing the praises of the LORD, you his faithful people;
praise his holy name.
For his anger lasts only a moment,
but his favor lasts a lifetime;
weeping may remain for a night,
but rejoicing comes in the morning.
When I felt secure, I said,
“I will never be shaken.”
LORD, when you favored me,
you made my royal mountain stand firm;
but when you hid your face,
I was dismayed.
To you, LORD, I called;
to the Lord I cried for mercy:
“What is gained if I am silenced,
if I go down to the pit?
Will the dust praise you?
Will it proclaim your faithfulness?
Hear, LORD, and be merciful to me;
LORD, be my help.”
You turned my wailing into dancing;
you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,
that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent.
LORD my God, I will praise you forever.
I've prayed the Old Testament Psalms for a long time now. I pray them in groups and I pray them when I'm alone. I pray all of them, all 150 Psalms of the Hebrew Scriptures.
As you could probably predict when anyone has upheld the same practice over a long period of time, I am different now than I was when I first began. My relationship with God is different. My image of God has changed through the years. Some of that came from these very psalms, and some evolved in other ways.
At some point on the road I began asking some questions about the psalms I prayed. In the beginning I prayed them blindly, with a kind of rote obedience, accepting their language and attitudes at face value. Somewhere along the path I started asking questions about them. In particular, I asked questions about the view of God that underlies many of the Psalms in the Bible.
I won't go into all the questions right here. One concern, however, was the frequency with which the pray-er in the psalms offers to God what I would call "conditional praise."
"Conditional praise" sounds something like this:
"I will exalt you, Lord,
for you lifted me out of the depths . . ." (Ps. 30:1)
Do you see the "condition" in that prayer? "I will praise you, Lord, because you did something for me." Human praise in the Hebrew Psalms often is offered as a response to the rescue or deliverance of God. Humans exalt God because God has done something good in their lives.
It sounds somewhat like a deal the human person works out with God: "God, if you'll do this good thing for me, then I'll praise you." Perhaps it's holy-hostage-taking!
"God, if you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours." Frankly, it sounds pretty petty to me, like a very immature stage of spiritual development.
Over time as I prayed psalms, I became convinced that God is worthy of my praise whether I ever experience God's goodness and rescue in my life or not. I'm not doing God any favors by offering my praise. Praising God, on the other hand, is something I need to do in order to become fully human. I came to understand that at least in my own experience, my praise was not to be contingent on what God did or did not do in my life.
This struggle was part of the impetus for putting the psalms in my own words several years ago. Taking nothing away from the persons who wrote out the original psalms, who prayed with their best understanding of God, I asked myself how I could pray these ideas in my own words. Given my understanding of God and relationship with God, how might I try to say some of the same things? That led to my devotional practice of offering the psalms in my own voice.
So given the original words from Psalm 30 -- one of the texts suggested for today -- how would I pray this prayer? I've given it a go below.
PSALM 30 Psalm-Prayer
A psalm for times that stretch me beyond myself
You are worthy of my praise, God;
Indeed, Your name I will praise,
whether You pull me from this bind or not.
I don’t want my praise, God,
offered in contingency,
tossed at You with stipulations.
In truth, You have not
abandoned me to my own devices
nor left me as food for
the swirling vultures who cannot
wait for my collapse.
You have awakened my soul from slumber, Lord,
You have infused my real experience with Your Spirit-life.
I love You, Lord.
I chant my love-prayer.
I raise my hands in love-thanks.
I offer my life as a love-offering.
When You’ve allowed me to walk in the valley,
darkness my closest companion,
with no vision to see the next step,
I’ve felt the sharp edge of Your love,
giving shape to my life in that moment
as You move me
toward the God-dream for which I was created.
Often I cry out for a season,
the pain stretching me to the edge
as I try to stand under the weight of the moment,
desperate for relief and yearning to see
Your Potter’s hand in the midst of the blackness.
But when You pull the curtain back on the larger picture,
when I see a piece of Your grander design for me and our world,
I’m brought to peace and joy,
a profound thankfulness that You have invited me
to be a part of Your God-project.
Of course, I don’t always see so clearly.
In times when life feels well-ordered
I tend to think it will always be so,
that nothing can shake my well-being.
I forget the power of adversity to shape me into Your heart.
Then, something happens in my outer world
to shatter all my illusions of well-being;
The things and people to which I attach myself get shaken.
They break.
Moths eat.
Rust consumes.
Thieves break in and steal.
Parents get old and die.
Cancer grows.
I hide and weep and carry on as if I were the only one
ever to face adversity!
“How can this happen, God?
How can You stand idly by?
Can’t You do something?”
Of course You could,
but that’s not the point, is it?
You listen.
You extend Presence.
You embody compassion.
You give an inner strength more resilient
than any quick remedy.
You give me a song to sing in the night,
a dance to dance under the moon.
You transform my mourning
and give me peace.
Awake my soul, awake.
Sing psalms to God,
For unto You, my God, is everlasting thanks.
Amen.
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