Prayer

I signed up for a twitter account this week. Picked a bunch of people to follow and let's see how this goes. Don't really get the zen of twitter. I can't see myself updating everyone as to where I'm eating or any such. Tweeting like there's no tomorrow. You know who you are. Anyhow, I followed up on a friend I hadn't seen for a long time and found his blog, learning to pray. Good stuff. Sweetness and light, flowers and forests. Contemplative. Nice. I really think so. I also really think it's not for me.


You see, for me, there's a difference between living in God's presence and enjoying him as you experience glories of his handiwork, and praying. I've run into this personal dichotomy before. Some people want to make all of life 'worship,' but I'd rather preserve the specialty and sacredness of times of worship by calling the rest of life something else; maybe godliness, or something like that. Just don't downgrade the high times we can with God to dismal equality with the day to day grind by calling it all 'worship.' Unfashionable or not, that's how I look at it.


So, prayer. Prayer (for me) is an operation not a contemplation. Prayer is working together with God, possessed by his desires, feeling his passions, and calling for results -- here and now (or as close to now as his plan allows.) The Lord's Prayer knows nothing of contemplation at least not by any definition of the word I know. A group of focused requests, or even commands. No waiting in silence, no long dark night (teatime?) of the soul. Prayer is the pain of "how long oh Lord?" brought to the forefront of my consciousness. Right now. Prayer is that which will, I hope, be mixed with incense and coals from the altar and flung to earth to shake it to the core. THY KINGDOM COME! THY WILL BE DONE!


After that, I have no problem with resting in the sweetness and the light. But I don't call it prayer.