The real work of prayer

‘I realise that, although I have a tendency to say many things to God, the real “work” of prayer is to become silent and listen to the voice that says good things about me. This might sound self-indulgent, but, in practice, it is a hard discipline. I am so afraid of being cursed, of hearing that I am no good or not good enough, that I quickly give in to the temptation to start talking and to keep talking in order to control my fears. To gently push aside and silence the many voices that question my goodness and to trust that I will hear a voice of blessing… that demands real effort.’

-Henri Nouwen, Life of the Beloved

When I Don’t Feel Thankful

November rumbled round, and in the midst of a stressful season at work, Thanksgiving crept up on me in a way it hasn’t before. Menu planning was pushed later and later, until suddenly it’s this week, and I’m caught by surprise.

In a month that was characterised more by deadlines and drive-throughs than by reflection and rest, Thanksgiving served as a powerful reminder to slow the heck down; that the world will continue to spin on it’s axis without my involvement.

I am less important than I think.

And that – that helps me to be thankful when I don’t feel thankful.

My heart is heavy: it’s tired, weary. Another November passes, another year without my friends. There are so many things to rail against God for, to yell and throw temper tantrums for. And God knows, I’ve done that more often that I’d care to admit.

But there is also a glimmer of hope.

There is the candle-lit dinner with friends. An extravagant array of food and wine. It’s a conscious choice to say, no matter how the rest of my life looks at this point in time, I will be thankful. I am alive, and I will be grateful.

I look around the table, and I remember all that I have.
Friendships that withstand the tests of time and trial.
Spoons clink as we dig in for seconds on the pecan pie, and
I
am
grateful
.

Enough

For me, and for many of us, our first waking thought of the day is “I didn’t get enough sleep.” The next one is “I don’t have enough time.” Whether true or not, that thought of not enough occurs to us automatically before we even think to question or examine it. We spend most of the hours and the days of our lives hearing, explaining, complaining, or worrying about what we don’t have enough of… Before we even sit up in bed, before our feet touch the floor, we’re already inadequate, already behind, already losing, already lacking something. And by the time we go to bed at night, our minds are racing with a litany of what we didn’t get, or didn’t get done, that day. We go to sleep burdened by those thoughts and wake up to that reverie of lack… This internal condition of scarcity, this mind-set of scarcity, lives at the very heart of our jealousies, our greed, our prejudice, and our arguments with life…

Lynne Twist, The Soul of Money

The Beginner’s Mind

“Insatiable curiosity, the beginner’s mind, unending questions, and holding loosely to previous discoveries in case something better comes along were always the marks of great thinkers, explorers, and creators throughout human history.”

Ron Martoia – The Bible as Improv

Come with hunger

We don’t come to the table to fight or defend. We don’t come to prove or to conquer, to draw lines in the sand or to stir up trouble. We come to the table because our hunger brings us there. We come with a need, with fragility, with an admission of our humanity. The table is the great equalizer, the level playing field many of us have been looking everywhere for.

[Bread & Wine – Shauna Niequist]

In My Head