Prayer postponed? October 2005
8 February 2008 - 8:45pm — Sarah Hall
I've just come back from a four-day conference to find a big pile of letters on my doormat. When I went up to my study, I found another pile of letters on my desk I'd been too busy to read before going. My heart sank at having to wade through all that mass of words - opening each letter, reading it, acting upon what I'd read, throwing away some, filing others...
And yet, when I got around to opening them, my letters weren't that bad. True, I had a big bill I'd expected for a while, and several letters of the sort I particularly resent, enticing me to spend money I haven't got to buy things I don't need. But someone had seen my name in the URC magazine, Reform, and had written to congratulate me on coming to St Andrew's. There was a church newsletter telling me some of the exciting things St Mark's congregation has planned for the autumn. And even the junk mail is rather fun to put through the shredder for recycling.
Sometimes I treat prayer rather like that pile of letters. I know I ought to pray, but I put it off. I'm afraid of the ‘bills' I may need to face up to - things I've done, things I've failed to do - if I start listening to God. On the other hand, I'm afraid the idea of God being interested in me at all may be nothing but junk mail. So I make myself far too busy to sit down and pray.
As with my post, that solves nothing. When I did open my letters, on the other hand, I felt better; they were no longer nagging at the back of my mind. You're probably better with correspondence than I am, but there's usually something we should be doing. Gardeners have the weeding. Parents are never done with caring for child and home. For those of us who are paid workaholics there's always something in the office needing attention. And for us all, there are changes in our lives that need thinking through. If we once get down to these tasks, though we will never completely be finished with them, there's a great sense of relief in facing up to a niggling duty.
That's how it sometimes feels beforehand with prayer - as though it is a niggling duty. But then when I do sit down, relax and try to clear my mind, for just a little while, of all the thoughts that squirrel around in it, prayer is no longer an unpleasant duty firmly faced, but a relief. It's a little like catching sight of a friend unexpectedly, and exclaiming: How wonderful! You're here too! Because the amazing thing about prayer is that God likes communicating with us, enjoys our company, misses it when we're too busy to sit down and listen.
Jesus tells us God is like a parent who won't give their hungry child a stone to suck on, or a snake to bite them, but the good things they need. And the more we make ourselves too busy to pray, fearing to open a pile of unpaid bills demanding our punishment, or of junk promises, too good to be true, the hungrier we become for God's love and acceptance. So if you, like me, are too busy to pray, just go into a quiet corner, sit down, listen to the silence for five or ten minutes, and see what it tells you. And if you fall asleep, don't worry - God's probably saying you need the rest!
And yet, when I got around to opening them, my letters weren't that bad. True, I had a big bill I'd expected for a while, and several letters of the sort I particularly resent, enticing me to spend money I haven't got to buy things I don't need. But someone had seen my name in the URC magazine, Reform, and had written to congratulate me on coming to St Andrew's. There was a church newsletter telling me some of the exciting things St Mark's congregation has planned for the autumn. And even the junk mail is rather fun to put through the shredder for recycling.
Sometimes I treat prayer rather like that pile of letters. I know I ought to pray, but I put it off. I'm afraid of the ‘bills' I may need to face up to - things I've done, things I've failed to do - if I start listening to God. On the other hand, I'm afraid the idea of God being interested in me at all may be nothing but junk mail. So I make myself far too busy to sit down and pray.
As with my post, that solves nothing. When I did open my letters, on the other hand, I felt better; they were no longer nagging at the back of my mind. You're probably better with correspondence than I am, but there's usually something we should be doing. Gardeners have the weeding. Parents are never done with caring for child and home. For those of us who are paid workaholics there's always something in the office needing attention. And for us all, there are changes in our lives that need thinking through. If we once get down to these tasks, though we will never completely be finished with them, there's a great sense of relief in facing up to a niggling duty.
That's how it sometimes feels beforehand with prayer - as though it is a niggling duty. But then when I do sit down, relax and try to clear my mind, for just a little while, of all the thoughts that squirrel around in it, prayer is no longer an unpleasant duty firmly faced, but a relief. It's a little like catching sight of a friend unexpectedly, and exclaiming: How wonderful! You're here too! Because the amazing thing about prayer is that God likes communicating with us, enjoys our company, misses it when we're too busy to sit down and listen.
Jesus tells us God is like a parent who won't give their hungry child a stone to suck on, or a snake to bite them, but the good things they need. And the more we make ourselves too busy to pray, fearing to open a pile of unpaid bills demanding our punishment, or of junk promises, too good to be true, the hungrier we become for God's love and acceptance. So if you, like me, are too busy to pray, just go into a quiet corner, sit down, listen to the silence for five or ten minutes, and see what it tells you. And if you fall asleep, don't worry - God's probably saying you need the rest!
