Today in morning worship I tried to pray for folks in Haiti and also for a young man in our Quaker Meeting who has had such a severe concussion that he must stay home form school for 3 more weeks. First off these 2 things seemed so incongruous. Three hundred thousand dead from an earthquake and a million(?) wounded survivors vs a relatively privileged young man with a painful, life changing, but not life threatening, concussion. Second, I couldn't, at first, get over the 'I don't think prayer actually helps' hump. It took sharing my thoughts out loud, in what we call vocal ministry for my real prayers to come genuinely from my heart, not my mind.
I prayed that the American young man's suffering, be not more than he can bear and that he will find the meaning of this suffering in his life. I prayed that he will grow stronger in body from this experience, but more importantly that he grow- just grow, in spirit. Basically I prayed the same for the people of Haiti.
There are a few I know by name via my housemate, Julian, who was there during the earthquake and was injured himself, though not seriously. I pray for Wenson and Gerald, and Gerald's wife and children. I pray that they have not been given more than they can bear and that they can learn from and find meaning in it. I pray that they grow in faith and in body and in spirit. I pray for all the Haitians, that when and if they feel that they have suffered beyond endurance that they pray for and receive the help they need from each other, from us and from that which we call God.
Being a Quaker, I know, that is, I experience (not always but enough to 'know'), the light I have within me. We call it many different things, the inward teacher, the inner Christ, the Presence... It is that which is in us, but not of us, yet which makes us kin to everyone and everything. Sometimes I experience it as a spaciousness as deep and wide as the universe itself. When I pray, when I truly pray from my heart, it is as if I give that light, that spaciousness back to God, asking, sometimes wordlessly, that it be used for those I love who are in danger or pain or who are suffering; knowing that [God]* will use it where it is needed most- not necessarily where I ask. I know that I can't really give this light away, but the act of loaning it or offering it, let's [God] know, and perhaps more importantly, lets me know just how much I care. It can be hard to let on, even to myself, how much I care, because then I must bear some of the pain and I might even feel compelled to do something about it!
So, what IS the use of prayer? No use at all if it does not come from the heart. No use at all if you are not willing to let the praying change you. So don't think about it too much, open your heart, allow yourself to care and don't be afraid of what may happen.
Just one last note: at our Quaker Meeting there is a lamentation group, a group that meets once a month before worship on Sundays, that encourages honest, loud, if needed, prayers, or cries of grief or anger to God, however you experience that which we call God. I had never been to this group and hadn't felt that need, at least not since it was formed about 10 years ago, but I went the Sunday after the earthquake. I needed it and it was helpful!
*sometimes I use [God] as short hand for "that which we call God"
I prayed that the American young man's suffering, be not more than he can bear and that he will find the meaning of this suffering in his life. I prayed that he will grow stronger in body from this experience, but more importantly that he grow- just grow, in spirit. Basically I prayed the same for the people of Haiti.
There are a few I know by name via my housemate, Julian, who was there during the earthquake and was injured himself, though not seriously. I pray for Wenson and Gerald, and Gerald's wife and children. I pray that they have not been given more than they can bear and that they can learn from and find meaning in it. I pray that they grow in faith and in body and in spirit. I pray for all the Haitians, that when and if they feel that they have suffered beyond endurance that they pray for and receive the help they need from each other, from us and from that which we call God.
Being a Quaker, I know, that is, I experience (not always but enough to 'know'), the light I have within me. We call it many different things, the inward teacher, the inner Christ, the Presence... It is that which is in us, but not of us, yet which makes us kin to everyone and everything. Sometimes I experience it as a spaciousness as deep and wide as the universe itself. When I pray, when I truly pray from my heart, it is as if I give that light, that spaciousness back to God, asking, sometimes wordlessly, that it be used for those I love who are in danger or pain or who are suffering; knowing that [God]* will use it where it is needed most- not necessarily where I ask. I know that I can't really give this light away, but the act of loaning it or offering it, let's [God] know, and perhaps more importantly, lets me know just how much I care. It can be hard to let on, even to myself, how much I care, because then I must bear some of the pain and I might even feel compelled to do something about it!
So, what IS the use of prayer? No use at all if it does not come from the heart. No use at all if you are not willing to let the praying change you. So don't think about it too much, open your heart, allow yourself to care and don't be afraid of what may happen.
Just one last note: at our Quaker Meeting there is a lamentation group, a group that meets once a month before worship on Sundays, that encourages honest, loud, if needed, prayers, or cries of grief or anger to God, however you experience that which we call God. I had never been to this group and hadn't felt that need, at least not since it was formed about 10 years ago, but I went the Sunday after the earthquake. I needed it and it was helpful!
*sometimes I use [God] as short hand for "that which we call God"
