Tag Archives: prayer

heart-prayer-vulnerability

Still noticing what I notice

My annual retreats can have long-lasting effects, and some themes from this year’s retreat continue to affect me. One theme was to notice what I notice; another was my heart and how I over-protect it.

A few weeks ago, I was searching for images related to prayer when an image of a partially-covered heart caught my attention.heart-prayer-vulnerabilityI kept coming back to this image, even though it was not what I had been seeking. But something in that heart was speaking to me, drawing me in. It was as if God was whispering to me, reveal your heart.

Perhaps God was using this image to remind me of the connection between my heart and prayer and how I need to be more vulnerable in prayer. Perhaps God was using this image as an invitation to open my heart to God and to the people I see every day.

I find my heart being stirred as I listen to the stories of people at the cancer support center where I work. Listening, I think, requires a soft heart, one that can hear without judgment, one that can hold pain and suffering alongside gratitude and hope.heart-prayer-vulnerabilityI have come to believe that most people who come to our center want to be heard as much as anything else. They want to talk about their fears and anxieties and hopes. They want to be acknowledged and affirmed.

My role is to listen to what is being said and to listen even more deeply to what is not being said. I try to pause before I speak, and I am learning to ask more questions than to offer answers. I hear myself asking, “What do you think it means?” or saying, “Tell me more about that.” And then I listen.heart-prayer-vulnerabilitySometimes, things seem much clearer to me than they seem to be to the person sitting in front of me. A significant weight loss or a change in skin color can indicate something has changed, even though the person may be unaware or in denial. Is it my job to say what I notice? I wonder.

It is so much easier to see things in others than in myself; my blind spots keep my own truths hidden. But, I believe that God is clueing me into my blind spots by what I notice in others—and inviting me to reflect back on my own issues.

So, for example, when I am particularly aware of someone being critical or judgmental, I ask myself if that awareness is connected to my own tendencies to be critical or judgmental. When I notice someone being impatient, I check my own level of patience; the same goes for fear or anger or resentment or….

Noticing what I notice helps slow me down and pay attention what is in front of me—whether it is a word in scripture or an image on my computer or someone sharing their fears. God continues to invite me to slow down and notice.
heart-prayer-vulnerability

 

spirituality-prayer-lent

Change my heart

Recently, I have spoken about my work at a cancer support center to several Optimist Clubs, and every time I hear the Optimist Creed, this line stands out:

To give so much time to the improvement of yourself that you have no time to criticize others.

One of my Lenten plans was to see the people in front of me. Sometimes I don’t actually see the person standing in front of me, but rather I see a version of that person which is based on my past experiences with him or her, and I know that is not always accurate.

Instead, I want to try to see as God sees—to see the potential in each person, to see the best in each one. I want to be less critical and more hopeful about the people in my life.spirituality-prayer-lentUsually, though, I form an impression of someone when we meet. If someone is prickly, I tend to think, “This is a prickly person.” I can then find it difficult to change that initial impression, to let go of my expectations that someone will act in a particular way. I can easily devote attention and energy to the faults of others while conveniently overlooking my own. spirituality-prayer-lentI know, though, that when I get a glimpse of myself as God sees me, it is a better version of me. From God’s perspective, I am capable of being my best self—loving, forgiving, accepting and merciful. When others see the best in me, and let me know that, I am more likely to be that person (or at least be more aware when I am not). The ability of others to see the best in me helps me to grow into the person God created me to be.

God invites me to focus on improving myself, on fixing my own faults before I start looking at others.spirituality-prayer-lentWhen I am aware of my own flaws, I am less likely to be critical of others. When I remember that I grow and change, it is easier to believe that others also grow and change—and also easier to see their potential.

Practicing seeing as God sees also makes me more compassionate. Seeing the potential in others and allowing them the space to grow into their potential reminds me we are all on the path to discovering who God created us to be. Hoping that I and others can live up to the vision God has for us shifts my vision from pessimism to optimism; God’s vision is always hopeful and expansive.spirituality-prayer-lentEvery person who stands before me has the potential to become all that God intended. My desire is to accept the people who come into my life without criticism or judgment and to imagine them as their best selves, the selves God created them to be.

 

prayer-spirituality-God

A recipe for prayer

Prayer is not just spending time with God. It is partly that—but if it ends there, it is fruitless. No, prayer is dynamic. Authentic prayer changes us, unmasks us, strips us, indicates where growth is needed. Authentic prayer never leads to complacency, but needles us, makes us uneasy at times. It leads us to true self-knowledge, to true humility.      ~St Teresa of Avila.

I learned to bake in Home Economics class in seventh grade and have loved baking ever since.

Recipes direct the steps of baking; having the right ingredients, measuring accurately and following the directions almost always results in a successful baked good.prayer-spirituality-GodI was reminded of baking at a recent session at church where the presenter gave us these guidelines for prayer:

Step 1. Listen to the Scripture passage being read aloud.

Step 2. Spend one minute in silence thinking about the scripture passage.

Step 3. Listen to the scripture passage being read again.

Step 4. Write down a question about the Scripture passage.

Step 5. Spend one minute in silence thinking about the question.

It sounded like a recipe for prayer. But, unlike baking, where the goal is a finished product, I think of prayer as a conversation between God and me—with less focus on the outcome.

Scripture and silence are important “ingredients” of prayer, but conversations tend to be less structured and can zig and zag in unexpected ways.

In prayer, I need to think less and be more aware of feelings, intuitions and images. I need to be open to God’s participation in the conversation.

Prayer is interactive and dynamic; it is more focused on God and God’s words than me and my words. For me, prayer is less concerned with setting a timer and more concerned with tuning in and paying attention.prayer-spirituality-GodPrayer is about being open to God, speaking honestly and listening attentively.

In another workshop, many years ago, I was taught these basic principles about prayer:

  1. In the realm of the Spirit, God does it; we don’t.
  2. God meets us just where we are.
  3. Prayer and the spiritual life are not work.
  4. Trust is the key that opens the door to let in God’s Spirit.

We need to trust God and trust our inner experience.

5. Our part is to respond to God’s initiative.

The Lenten Little Black Book offers these “Tips about prayer:”

  1. Don’t be afraid to “pray your feelings.” Let go of how you think you should feel and share with God your true feelings—anger, sadness, etc. God can handle it.
  2. It’s often hard to get started. You have to make time and shift gears for prayer, and that requires some extra push and discipline.
  3. Regular prayer can help a lot. As with most activities, setting a regular time—the same time every day—helps establish the habit.

God is waiting to have a conversation with us; we only have to show up and be open to hear God’s voice.prayer-spirituality-God

 

spiritual-practice-Lent

Seeing as a spiritual practice

“You have sensitive eyes,” my eye doctor once told me.

He was referring to the fact that I came to see him whenever my vision changed—even the tiniest variation in my eyesight would send me in to get new lenses. He told me that most people lived with blurry vision for a while before coming in for a new set of glasses. But not me; I have sensitive eyes.

His observation came back to me after reading a comment on one of my blog posts about how I seemed to see deeper meaning in everyday objects, how I can look beyond the physical characteristics of something and make a spiritual connection.

For Lent, I am praying to see with sensitive eyes. I want to see with the eyes of my heart (Ephesians 1:18).

When I was in my twenties, I worked in an office with nine men; I was the only woman. My emotional state at the time was like a roller coaster. Which me would show up for work on any given day? Happy me? Angry me? Depressed me? Sad me? It was anyone’s guess.spiritual-practice-Lent

One day, when depressed me showed up for work, one of the men stopped in front of my desk, paused and then said, “Do you know that your moods affect the entire office?”

“What?” I asked, incredulously. I thought I lived in a bubble, that I was the only one affected by my volatile emotional state. I really did not know anyone else noticed.

“You are the first person we meet when we walk through that door, and when you are in a bad mood, it affects all of us,” he explained.

Oh, those poor men, I thought. They had been enduring my unpredictable mood swings. My roller-coaster ride must have been like a ride through a house of horror for them.

But, having been made aware, I decided to change. I would park my moodiness at the door and enter the office even-keeled. It took effort, but over time, I became much more stable.spiritual-practice-LentOne problem, though, was that some of the men had the image of the old me so firmly planted in their minds that they could not see the new me. They never really trusted that the old me would not reappear, so they never let their guard down long enough to get to know the new me.

It was a wonderful lesson about my own potential to grow and about allowing other people to grow—to expect the best in myself and in others, even if I am repeatedly disappointed.

That lesson has stayed with me, and I strive to be even-keeled. I also remind myself that I am not the same person I was yesterday—and neither is anyone else.

I want to be open to the people I meet every day and to look for the best in them. I want to practice seeing with sensitive eyes, with the eyes of my heart.spiritual-practice-Lent

 

Spiritual practices

My heart was a theme during my retreat last month. I sometimes worry that my heart has become too guarded or even closed.

The last seven years have been a time of great loss for me, so I understand my inclination to protect my heart from being broken again. I also know that a broken heart can be the most loving heart if I allow the fissures to heal rather than become deep crevices, if I allow the breaks to be entrances rather than chasms that are impossible to cross.

At the end of the movie Frozen, Elsa declares, “Only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart.”

I cried as I watched this children’s movie—and not just a few tears trickling from my eyes, but wrenching sobs escaping from my heart. Did Elsa’s insight touch me because my heart is frozen? And what act of true love could thaw my frozen heart?spiritual-practices-love-prayer

Many people have touched my heart with friendship and great acts of generosity and kindness throughout my life. I have been abundantly blessed.

So in an attempt to unthaw my heart and as an act of love, I decided to write a letter every day during February and connect with people who have been loving toward me. Twenty-eight days of love—that is how I have been thinking of February.spiritual-practices-love-prayer

Every morning in prayer, I pay attention to who comes to mind, whose name is planted on my heart that day, and then I write a note.

Two things I learned from this practice:

The first is that praying about the people I love sparks memories and gratitude. Images float into my consciousness, recollections of friends rush in and warm my heart. I am reminded of how blessed I am to be so loved.

The second is a reminder of the benefits of discipline.

Discipline disposes us toward whatever we are practicing. Prayer, meditation, acts of kindness, service, etc., dispose us toward positivity. Starting my day with thoughts of love predisposes me to look for love during the day—and helps me to more quickly identify words and acts that are not loving. Awareness helps me make better choices throughout the day.

Facebook reminded me this week that I started this blog four years ago. Writing daily and posting weekly has been a good discipline for me.

Discerning what to share in my blog helps me see more clearly where God is calling me to grow, especially when I write about a frustration or some old hurt and its residual anger. The discipline of writing also helps me to be more aware of everyday blessings and the many, ordinary ways God touches my life.

What we focus on becomes a bigger part of us.

I want to focus on trust instead of fear and on love instead of hate. I want my words and actions to remind me daily that Jesus’ heart is all love and that I am invited to live that love.spiritual-practices-love-prayer

 

 

 

 

 

 

healing-prayer-spirituality-Jesus

Leaving my comfort zone

One moment of clarity during my recent retreat involved Matthew 25:31-46, the story of the sheep and the goats.

For the better part of one year, (many years ago) I prayed almost exclusively with this passage of scripture. I would try to move on, but God kept calling me back. “I guess I am a slow learner,” I would joke with God when I could not seem to move onto other scriptures. I knew I was missing something but could not figure out what it was.

I did continue to have aha moments as the year passed, gaining deeper insight into the message as the words permeated my being.

Thirty years later, this passage still draws me and connects me with my basic call from God:

For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.

These works of mercy became the standard against which I measured myself. When was the last time I fed someone who was hungry or gave drink to someone who was thirsty? When did I welcome a stranger or care for someone who was sick or visit someone in prison?

I took the commands literally. I believed Matthew outlined these works clearly so that there could be doubt about what I was to do. And I believed that Jesus was calling me to engage in each and every activity.healing-prayer-spirituality-Jesus

The passage goes on to say, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did to me.

That is the part that took me a while to grasp—to see that whatever good work I did, I did for Jesus, that the person on the receiving end was Jesus. Here was the mystery.

I had done good works before 1986, but I had somehow missed this piece of the equation, the part where I was actually doing it to or for Jesus. I thought I was just helping another person, but to realize that I was helping Jesus cast my efforts in a different light, because by doing these good works I was actually putting myself in a position to interact directly with Jesus. And in doing for Jesus, I was setting myself up to receive something in return—healing.

God was inviting me to get in touch with my own hunger, thirst, nakedness, alienation and imprisonment—and to let His love in through my acts of service for others. By offering mercy, I was receiving mercy.

Every act of kindness I did softened my heart and made me more compassionate. Every good deed opened the door for Jesus to shift my vision so I could see the world as Jesus sees it.

healing-prayer-spirituality-Jesus

Some of these commands can demand I move far outside my comfort zone; and I have come to believe that that is exactly where Jesus is waiting for me.healing-prayer-spirituality-Jesus

meditation-God-generosity

Being amazed

As I read Chapter 6 of Mark’s gospel, the word amazed caught my attention (Mark 6:6), and I let my mind wander to times I have been amazed.

I usually think of amazement connected with beautiful things like sunrises or art or performances—delightful things that touch my heart—but in this passage, Jesus was amazed at their lack of faith.

I wondered how Jesus would react to my faith: would he be amazed at the strength of my faith or at the lack of it?

Then another scripture passage came to mind: Mary and Joseph were amazed at what was said about their son when he was presented in the Temple. (Luke 2:33) This is an amazement I can more easily relate to—something someone says that startles me, new information that shifts my perspective, a new insight. I can imagine Mary and Joseph thinking, “Is he talking about our son?”

Like the practice of noticing what I notice, being amazed can help me live in the present moment and appreciate the world around me.

Too often, I let things pass by without taking note or fully acknowledging the gift of God in them. Not just sunrises or art or performances, but also acts of kindness and compassion, words of encouragement or praise and good deeds done selflessly.

But, I am trying to be more aware, to pause and notice the goodness around me and to thank God for all the generosity I see.meditation-God-generosity

I work at a cancer support center where emotions can be like a roller-coaster ride. One person receives good news at the same time someone else receives bad news. One person’s treatment is successful and another’s is not. It can be difficult to take it all in and stay present.

Recently, one of our members brought in chocolates for our front desk, and a few days later, another brought flowers.meditation-God-generosity

Both of these women are in difficult situations, each facing surgery and each dealing with complications that create uncertainty for their futures. They are both in physical pain.

Yet, there they were bearing gifts. Their selflessness and generosity amazed me. Even in the midst of difficulty and uncertainty, they were magnanimous.

Their kindness and thoughtfulness touched me deeply and made me wonder if I would think of others if I were in a similar position. Would I be able to be so generous if I were facing difficult surgery? Or would my thoughts be focused on myself, my fears and vulnerability?meditation-God-generosity

I imagine that both of these women have been practicing generosity for a long time, so it is a part of who they are and how they live. They are generous without needing thanks or even acknowledgement. They do it for themselves, because they are following some internal impulse toward generosity. Amazing.

In the following days their acts of generosity, the most often-asked questions at work were, “Who brought in the chocolates?” and “Who brought in the flowers?” Others noticed. And appreciated. Simply amazing.meditation-God-generosity