This season of Lent invites us to take on various spiritual disciplines to help us connect with God in new and deeper ways; practices that help us tune our ears to better hear God in our midst. In fact, our Ash Wednesday liturgy calls us to specific practices as part of the invitation to a holy Lent. At the heart of all of this is prayer. But what does it mean to pray?
We might imagine prayer is sitting with our trusty Book of Common Prayer, opening to a page and reading. This is a good and important type of prayer, and it is vital for us to carry on the traditions we have inherited. The BCP is a treasurer trove of resources. If you have not spent time flipping through the pages I invite you to do so. If you do not have a Prayer Book and would like one, please let me know. I would be delighted to get one for you. I would also be happy to give tours through the Prayer Book highlighting some especially useful resources for personal devotion. In addition to our beloved BCP there are other ways to pray too.
While I use the Prayer Book every day in my own devotional life, there are many times when I find myself praying with it out. Sometimes that is sitting in silence, or using prayer beads; other times it’s while walking through a park, or sitting in an art gallery. I regularly pray while I cook, and find doing culinary prep work like chopping vegetables rather meditative. Of course, my commute from Pawtucket to Greenville along four of RI’s highways has exponentially increased my prayer life as well.
I wonder, what are the ways you have found to pray?
In his book The Word in the Wilderness: A Poem for Lent and Easter Malcolm Guite includes a prayer by Kelly Belmonte titled “How I Talk to God.” I offer this poem to you, hoping that it will help you expand your understanding of prayer and inspire you to seek God in every moment of your life.
Coffee in one hand
leaning in to share, listen:
How I talk to God.
‘Momma, you’re special.’
Three-year-old touches my cheek.
How God talks to me.
While driving I make
lists: done, do, hope, love, hate, try.
How I talk to God.
Above the highway
hawk: high, alone, free, focused.
How God talks to me.
Rash, impetuous
chatter, followed by silence:
How I talk to God.
First, second, third, fourth
chance to hear, then another:
How God talks to me.
Fetal position
under flannel sheets, weeping
How I talk to God.
Moonlight on pillow
tending to my open wounds
How God talks to me.
Pulling from my heap
of words, the ones that mean yes:
How I talk to God.
Infinite connects
with finite, without words:
How God talks to me.