This morning I woke up with overwhelming gratitude for this beautiful sunrise, for family and friends, health, life possibilities, for all the grace in my life. I try to do something every day for someone else. Up here at the cottage it is often just an email, but I can hear my mom telling tell me that is good enough for the moment. I still think of her during her last days, doing what was good enough for the moment, smiling at people as they walked by her wheelchair.
This morning I woke up with overwhelming gratitude for this beautiful sunrise, for family and friends, health, life possibilities, for all the grace in my life. I try to do something every day for someone else. Up here at the cottage it is often just an email, but I can hear my mom telling tell me that is good enough for the moment. I still think of her during her last days, doing what was good enough for the moment, smiling at people as they walked by her wheelchair.
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The idea of praying without ceasing has always intrigued me. Two years ago when I began aprayerdiary, I wrote about the Jesus Prayer, Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on me, a sinner. The prayer comes from the Eastern Orthodox tradition and particularly from Startets, the spiritual guides of Russia. “Pray without ceasing (1 Thess. 5:17) were the very words that compelled the Staret to set out on his journey in “A Way of the Pilgrim”. I have been saying the Jesus Prayer for over three years. It’s very simple to do; just say the phrase over and over again (I leave out the a sinner part). I started by reciting it out loud, but soon I noticed that I was thinking it, and that was just fine. It has become my meditation mantra, which I say while watching the sunrise here at the cottage, walking the beach, doing the dishes, driving in the car, going to sleep, you name it. Nowadays I often ‘say’ the prayer without even thinking about; it must be in my unconscious, or should I say, in my heart? The following is from The Mountain of Silence: A Search for Orthodox Spirituality, by Kyriacos C. Markides. The quotes are attributed to Father Maximos, an Anthonte monk and friend of Markides. “It (the Jesus Prayer) is the practical way of mobilizing the mechanism of the heart to open up to Grace….embedded in the name of Jesus is the very power of God. By invoking, therefore, the sacred name repeatedly we invite the Grace of God to take possession of hour hearts and mind, protecting us from harmful effects. “{The Prayer}opens the road for Grace to visit the heart. And when that happens, then the heart works by itself independently of whatever else you do. It enters into an ongoing relationship with God" (p.56). My cousin was Scottish. My cousin in California died yesterday. As I wrote on my cottagebythesea.net blog, “He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer a few days before this eightieth birthday and died five weeks later under hospice care with his children tending to him. A good death, as the saying goes.” What I want to share here is what that a good death means to me from a prayer perspective—that my cousin felt God’s presence, that he knew God was there with him during this last part of his journey. Of course, I believe that God is there for everyone, all the time and certainly at the end of life, but the grace is when the person knows and feels God’s presence and embrace. Maybe that’s why I’m so intent (obsessed?) on doing my part to let God into my life. At my ending I want to feel the peace of God that passes all understanding. My mom had this peace and so did my cousin. When I talked with him two weeks before he died, he told me that he was at peace about ‘the God piece’. Daily I prayed the Twenty-third Psalm with him and he knew it. Thankfully I didn’t have to pray it secretly or ‘behind the scenes’ as it were. I hadn’t kept up with my cousin much over the years, but I felt incredibly close to him when it seemed to matter most for both of us. That is grace, and for that, I am ‘very grateful’. “You cannot intercede if you do not believe in the reality of Redemption.” That statement by Oswald Chambers has be thinking, wondering, questioning. Chambers goes on to say, “In intercession you bring the person, or the circumstance that impinges on you before God until you are moved by His attitude towards that person or circumstance.” Lots going on here. One thought is that my purity of heart towards the person I’m praying for has bearing on it all. But on whom? Me? The person? Both of us? Are they separate? Maybe it’s about honesty with myself, before God. What part does my desire for the person to heal and find peace have to do with all? With the actual prayer? With God hearing and responding? Certainly honesty is a worthy place for me. But the truth is that sometimes my selfishness, jealousy, or competitiveness stands in the way of love; and this just somehow has to matter. The grace of it all is that through prayer, my self-centeredness can change to love. Thank you for listening to my ramble. The story isn’t over. Today I’m praying for two friends; a peaceful death for one, successful brain surgery for the other. These prayers are needed at this very moment, because it’s happening for my friends at this very moment--at the very moment I woke up, during my walk on the beach and now as I write. How can I sustain this kind of prayer, this life and death prayer? With the grace of God I do the best I can. When I pray in words I ask for very specific results. I try to pray thy will be done, but I really want my will be done. I believe God understands this as coming from compassion, certainly not from a systematic theological book. Even writing this blog is prayer. My better prayer, however, is one without words, when my thoughts and judgments disappear and I’m just lifting up the Light. The joining of thy and my will be done. God and me. I’m here at the cottage, my first full day, It feels like one, big, all-encompassing prayer. It being my life here. No need to be specific. As the saying goes, It just is. And yet there are some specifics, some insights that my prayer is hearing and offering. Most importantly, this sense of prayer is all grace; not of my doing, this being here at the cottage, this being called to pray for people. I try to be attentive to God’s call, but that’s the most I can say about my part in it. The experience is humbling and awesome. What I am hearing is that God wants me here, just being. God wants me just like that so I can pray for others, others who have extremely busy, complicated and sometimes tragic lives, who need an ‘outside’ prayer and prayer person. I often think of prayer as ‘holding’, holding the pain, frenzy, stress, you name it, for others so they can get through the day, through their life. Prayer lightens the burden, makes one feel not alone, shines light in darkness. I have had my times when I needed holding. I believe that it was there although at the time I wasn’t usually aware of the who, when or where of it. That didn’t seem to be important. So now, today, I have a list of people and situations I’m praying for. Some of recipients know, but most have no idea that I’m praying for them. It’s a grace-filled calling. This morning when I read this I thought of my mom, who died a little over a year ago at age 101. She is one of those saint that Mary Luti is talking about in today’s Stillspeaking Devotional dailydevotional@ucc.org. I started reading for a one sentence quote, but I couldn’t stop. So here it is in its entirety. Those Whose Race Is Won Excerpt from 2 Corinthians 4:4-18 "But we have this treasure in earthen vessels to show that this all-surpassing power is from God..." Reflection by J. Mary Luti We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, but except on All Saints Day, it hovers over us unnoticed. It's like our appendix: we don't need it, so unless it acts up, we don't know it's there, or much care. That's too bad, because unlike our appendix, we need the saints more than we think. Not, as in the Middle Ages, to save us from Hell for a coin or heal our complex ills by the simple application of a left-behind bone. We have politicians and star-power pastors for that. No, we don't need them for magic. We need them for lively conversation about the immense dignity of ordinary life, the incalculable value of everyday intentions to follow Jesus, and the inexplicable power of human haplessness to attract the mercies of God. We need them to confirm for us the secret of holiness behind halos and hymns - drudgery and routine; fleshly weakness and the shame of sin; the need for pardon and the struggle to be ready for grace; the groaning labor to reorder selfish affections towards selfless Love; the foolish choice to hope against hope; and the costly return, day after weary day, to the unlovely neighbor's side, with no one catching any of this stubborn, unremarkable pilgrimage on tape. Faced with intractable fears and exhausting complexities, the world whips out the sensation, the quick fix, and the magic of celebrity. The church's ancient wisdom offers instead "mystic sweet communion with those whose race is won." We have the saints, and if we look carefully, we find that they are us - extraordinary signs that ordinary vulnerability, love and repentance, courage and perseverance still count. For a lot. For everything. Happy All Saints Day, saints of God! Prayer For all the saints who from their labors rest, who thee by faith before the world confessed, thy name O Jesus, be forever blessed. Alleluia! This was today’s reading in “Celtic Daily Prayer” by Kate Tristram. It speaks for itself; you don’t need my thoughts; your own will suffice. We are ‘peculiar’. We have chosen not to go with the majority. We shall pray and reflect on the life of Christ: most people don’t do this. We shall worship and receive God’s gifts in His sacraments: most people don’t do this. We shall be in a minority: we shall be odd. There will be no danger for us in that, as long as we don’t begin actually to like being odd. We can see there, of course, the danger of wanting to withdraw into the small group of like-minded people, and to build the barricades to keep out those who are not sufficiently odd in our variety of oddness. That is the way to create sects and divisions, in which each is sure of his own chosenness and pours scorn on that of the others. In fact, we have to find a balance. It is our faith that God loves all, and all to Him are welcome. Kate Tristram I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. 2 Timothy 4.7 Yesterday I took a friend to what may be her last chemo session. Thanks in large part to modern medicine she has lived successfully for over six years with a diagnosis of ovarian cancer. The ‘healthy’ quality of life that she has experience has included a good appetite, the ability to drive and to travel, and the continued cultivation of many friendships. Good luck? Who knows? All along she continued ‘to do the spiritual work’, or as Paul says, to keep the faith. That is not luck; that is grace. Coronation of the Virgin, by Bicci di Lorenzo (1430) This morning I lit a candle (the one the right) for a friend who is having surgery. Sometimes the only thing we can do for someone is pray, but that is a mighty act if you are graced to believe in prayer. I like that there is another candle next to mine, a candle lit by someone praying for someone in need. Candles flickering together in community, the light of God shining. What a hopeful image in the midst of all the suffering in the world. |
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