Focus on Prayer

May 28, 2006

Text: Romans 8:26-28

Sermon by Rev. Wayne Irwin

 

“Prayer is the most powerful thing!”

That’s what he said. Jim Meyer. In Caledonia.

On Wednesday.

“Prayer is the most powerful thing. It worked here.

I asked my God, or Creator, or Maker to give me wisdom. And here I am.”

And Jim Meyer. one of the residents of Caledonia, whose house is among those closest to the disputed area, picked up a lilac branch, caught the eye of Michael Laughing, one of the native mainstay persons at the barricade, accepted his offered handshake, and together they walked down the road.

“Prayer is the most powerful thing. It worked here.” Prayer.

We are beginning our annual Week of Guided Prayer here in Centenary.

Our retreat in the midst of ordinary life.

And not just a week of prayer.

But a week of “guided prayer.”

So what do we mean by prayer?

Apart from “guided” prayer. What do we mean by prayer?

There are probably as many definitions of prayer as there are people who use the word.

And there are as many vehicles which draw us to prayer, which draw us to connect with the presence of the Holy: vehicles such as worship, the reading or hearing of scripture, the experience of nature, the experience of music, of art, of silence, of solitude, of relationships, even the experience of work, and the awakening caused by crises, and also the joy of celebrations.

All of these, and a thousand others are vehicles of prayer. All of these connect us are able to re-connect us with the Holy.

So prayer, clearly, can be defined as whatever it is that connects us with the Holy.

And that presents a pretty broad spectrum.

But there are specific forms of prayer with which we traditionally engage within the church: elements of prayer . . . such as praise, such as  confession and thanksgiving, such as petition, supplication, (prayer for ourselves), and intercession, (prayer for others).

But, in fact, everything we do together as a community of faith can be a form of prayer.

Even the flea market.

Even the cleaning out of the storage room.

Together.

It can be an act of prayer.

Because prayer is actually dependent only on our intention. If we are being open to the presence of the Risen Christ, if we are attending to the Love in our midst, if we are attuning our heart with the heart of Divine Love, God’s Love, unconditional, accepting, forgiving, compassionate Love, in whatever we are doing, then what we are doing . . . is praying.

But prayer is more than any form.

It is more than any particular activity. And it is much more than a moment on our knees at bedtime.

Ron DelBene, the American spiritual director who has been teaching on prayer for nearly forty years describes prayer as being simply this:  “attentiveness to God’s presence.”

He puts it this way in his video series: “Praying in the Midst of Life” "Many of us believe it is up to us to pray in a way that reaches God. I believe we are in the presence of God at all times, and prayer is being attentive to that presence."

We are like fish in the ocean. We swim in a sea of interchanging energy, which, like for fish, is not visible.  And we take it for granted because of our familiarity with it.

Saint Catherine of Siena, (14th century Italian) is remembered for saying: “The soul is in God and God in the soul, just as the fish is in the sea and the sea in the fish.”  

Saint Augustine . . . (4th century – African) is remembered for saying: “We live and move and have our being . . . in God.”

So, our prayer can be understood as the awareness of living in . . . and living out of the presence of God.

Living in and out of the presence of our Eternal Lover . . . Whether we can see our Lover or not, whether we acknowledge our Lover or not.

God is forever blessing our lives. And prayer is our intentional opening of ourselves to that blessing.

So what do we do when we intentionally pray? 

We intentionally attend, first of all, to our conceptualization as to who God is.  

Notice that Jim Meyer, in Caledonia, referred to God as “my God, Creator or Maker,”  – unsophisticated – simple – but making no difference.

We name God with whatever name we know. And when we do we bring to mind in that moment our understanding of God's attitude toward us – an understanding that is enhanced by the degree to which we know and understand the story of Jesus – who incarnates an attitude of compassionate, forgiving, accepting love, without condition.

And so, in prayer, we also are choosing, then, to essentially enter into an intimacy with this Divine Mystery – an intimacy of private conversation, moving towards a deeper awareness and a more mindful consciousness of the presence and guidance, and even indwelling of God – a surrender to the Universe that ultimately opens up our whole being to what God would do within us, with us, for us . . . and through us.

And there is nothing more fulfilling in life than the sense that we are engaged in the ministry of God to this world.

And it seems that ordinary folk are the best suited for this ministry.  

Ushi Entenmann, writing in the latest issue of Ode magazine, observes, for example, that over the past couple of decades ordinary civilians have shown themselves to be just as effective in stopping violence and conflict as diplomats and national leaders.

Doctors and priests and sports stars, business people, artists and aid workers are now the ones who are often bringing the clashing groups together around the negotiating table -- not the politicians.  

United Nations Secretary-General Kofi Annan has recognized this global network of new peace-makers as an important complement to the reach of governments. And although the headlines that focus on the flames make us think that violence is on the increase, the opposite is actually the case.

While journalists wrote about tragic battle zones like Bosnia, and Somalia and Rwanda, more wars ended in the 1990's than began.

And since 1990, the number of armed conflicts in the world has fallen by more than 46% – this according to The 2005 Human Security Report.

Between 1988 and 2001 the number of genocides and assassinations fell by 80 %. And wars are claiming fewer victims. In 1982, 250,000 died in war. In 2002, 60,000. The trend is visible. Our world is growing increasingly peaceful.

So ‘Imagine’ – what Martine sang – John Lennon’s lyrics – the peace is possible.  

Henner and Barbara Papendieck – two ordinary people – a sociologist and an economist – undertook to do something about the war raging on in Mali, in Africa, between the Tuareg people and the Songhai people.

The international community knew virtually nothing about it – because the press, as usual, was focused on the situations affecting North American and European interests.

Henner and Barbara Papendieck felt called, themselves, to do something. And they did. They went to Mali in 1994, in the midst of the war, carrying with them 18 million Euros entrusted to them by a German aid organization and a credit institution.

They organized a peace conference, brought combatants together, founded an advisory board of village elders including influential men from every ethnic group.

And they did this on their own. They were not missionaries for any group.  

“The young men,” they said, “had grown up with war. They knew only one way to solve conflict – with violence. They were not invited to the peace conference.

The old men – the elders – could remember a time when things were different. They were the ones invited. So we told them we had money, they said, and that we would spend it wherever there was peace.

And it was their job, the elders’ job, to find where the peace was so we could begin.”  

And today, eleven years later, with a total of 55 million euros, about 80 million Canadian dollars, they have created 25 schools, 45 city halls, 7 health clinics, 2 banks, and they have dug 13 deep wells and put in place 330 motorized water pumps, each pump capable of turning 75 acres of desert into fertile land able to feed 700 people.

The reward of ten years of negotiations by two ordinary persons responding to the calling within them, responding to their awareness of God’s guidance for them, for the spending of the resources of their lives, in concert with the relationships of their lives.

And it is something that is possible for every one of us. Each one of us is able to make a difference in concert with our own resources and relationships..

To do something towards the well-being of the world. And there is no telling how big a deal that can be, if we are faithful to our calling.

And there is nothing in life more fulfilling.  

But, it involves prayer. It involves becoming utterly vulnerable to God, becoming utterly trusting of God, becoming utterly tuned in to doing blessing, wherever we are, as simple as caring for an employee or doing something special for a neighbour..

So, prayer, in a phrase, can be defined as “surrender to Love.”  

All of this, of course, stirs questions.

Sometimes intellectual questions. Sometimes practical ones. For example, there are those among us who may ask: “Does God really hear us when we pray?”

And within our Centenary faith community we can talk about these things. Because it is in our gathering here that we refuel for the tasks out there.  

And in here, we acknowledge that we believe that God always hears our prayer, whether it be shouted, or whispered, whether it be groaned, or whether it be silently breathed.  

We believe that God knows the yearnings of our heart, of everyone’s heart, as well as knowing the thoughts or any of the words that are chosen to attempt to give expression to our sighs.

That’s what the Apostle Paul is speaking of when he writes that we don’t know how to pray. He is saying that we don’t need to know, that the Spirit of God within us knows, and actually does our praying for us . . . as he puts it: “with sighs too deep for words.”  

Why do we believe this? Because we understand God to be ever-present with us, to be present in every cell of our being, and to thus know us through and through, better than we know ourselves.

Hence God knows any need of ours in a very immediate way, whether it be expressed or left unexpressed.

And God knows what we also need in order to accomplish what God would have us do. Why else do we experience the coincidences that amaze us.

We have a chef, for example, volunteering in our tea room here. His name is Raymond. A pastry specialist. He and his partner would like to open a bake shop here. All we would need, he said, is something like a pizza oven. That very week, Bruce gets a call from the Staircase Theatre, which has closed.

Says the proprietor, “We have some equipment here. Could you use it. You can have it for the taking. Two commercial refrigerators . . . and a pizza oven!”

All of which raises the question then: If God knows our need . . . Even before we ask . . . then why do we ever need to pray?   

Of course, it is partly because prayer is so much more than asking.  

And because we actually have an instinctive longing to pray.

A built-in desiring. We are wired for prayer. We are designed for readily reaching toward the One who is the Source of all that is, for whom nothing is impossible, and who is already known to us somewhere deep within our soul.

So, whether we be religious or not, whether we be Christian or not, if we do not pray, somehow, if we do not connect with the Holy somehow, sooner or later we feel starved, and aware that we are aching spiritually, and maybe even physically, for an experience of coming into awareness of our relationship with God, of that relationship in which we already exist.

William Wordsworth, 18th / 19th century English in his Ode Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood penned these related words: "Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting . . . not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness,      but trailing clouds of glory do we come           from God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!"

Arguing that it is our life in this dimension with all its tribulation that causes our childhood certainty to become clouded. We become forgetful of the Divine.

And yet there remains within us the spiritual instinct that is able to lead us to remembering that it is from God we come . . . and to God we return . . . and that meanwhile God is with us all the while. We are not alone.  

So the words of prayer simply prepare us. They prepare our minds and thus enable us to open ourselves to what God is waiting and desiring to give. To what God is poised to give. For the sake of God’s agenda for this world. For the sake of what God wants.

That’s why in our prayer time, we don’t presume to ask for what we want. We have our ‘druthers, but they are so often selfish. We ask for what God wants. Because nothing can ever be better than what God wants.  

And we in this faith community believe that we can indeed knock on the door of heaven, with our prayer, as we are invited to do, and that when do, the door is opened by the Christ, as it were, standing before us holding the door  – holding it open -- the door to God’s storeroom of blessings.. And one thing more.

It has been said that prayer changes things.

And it does. But what it mostly changes in the person doing the praying.

“Someone had to take charge,” said Jim Meyer, in Caledonia. “It was a feeling I can’t explain. Something felt different.” That’s how it is reported that he described it.

He had asked the Divine Mystery for wisdom, and had acted on what he felt moved to do. There is nothing more courageous than that. It was his task for that day . . . for the world.  

And many of you, I know, understand.  

We begin our Week of Guided Prayer today. Those of us who are retreatants spend the week in listening, and together with our prayer companion, discerning the assurance and leading of the presence of God.

Knowing that when our prayers are in accord with the high and loving purposes of God, miraculous things can and do, and will . . . come to be.

We can see it happening here . . .  All around us.

As to what all of that will be in our personal lives, in the life of our faith community – that’s the exciting part.

And the mysterious part.

We wait in anticipation of blessing.