Wednesday, August 29, 2007

The Collect

I went to a great class at Resurrection tonight about how to pray out loud. I'm completely comfortable with private prayer throughout my days and evenings, engaging in a one-on-one dialog with God. In fact, my favorite time of each day is at nighttime, when I go to bed, turn out the light, and turn to God in prayer - when I'm alone, but not alone at all. I love that. I especially love when I'm done saying my part of the prayer and I silence my mind to listen to and feel God's presence, sometimes drifting off to sleep peacefully, other times lying awake, listening, searching. I can't think of a better way to end my day.

But when it comes to praying out loud, in front of others? Not so much. I pretty much suck at it. Once, at the end of a group discussion, I got the courage up to say the closing prayer. This is how I started it: "So, hey, God. Hi. Yeah. Whazzup?" Followed by some incoherent ramblings out of my mouth that I've since blocked from my memory. It's the thought that counts, right?

At tonight's class, I was reminded of a type of prayer called The Collect. Pastor Nicole, who led the class, had us write some collects as a group. Then we wrote a couple on our own. This was one of those full-circle moments for me because it reminded me of a service at FirstLight last Fall, when we each wrote a Collect and handed them in during the Eucharist. Those congregational Collects are actually online here, which is pretty cool.

As well as utilizing the collect for out-loud prayers, which I will definitely do from now on, I really like the idea of writing collects to put into a spiritual journal I keep as part of my nightly ritual. Tonight, at the class, I wrote a couple of Collects - one for times of fear, the other for times of heartache. Here they are:

Loving God, who guides and comforts completely, calm our worries and multiply our faith so that we may fully trust in You without fear, in Jesus' name, Amen.

Dear Lord, who heals our pain, comfort and hold us so that our hearts may mend, in Your holy name, Amen.

Monday, August 27, 2007

Effective evangelism?

Okay, to the two or three people who actually read this blog, I want some thoughts on this one...

Driving home today, I noticed that the car in front of me had something written in big, all-caps letters on the back of its windshield. When I got closer, I was able to read it. I tried to take a picture of it, because I happened to have my digital camera in the car with me, but it just came out blurry and unreadable. Then I realized that I should probably be focusing on the road as I drive. Oops. So, you'll just have to take my word for it. This is what it said:

WARNING: REVELATION IS ABOUT TO BE FULFILLED. GO TO JESUS OR GO TO HELL. LOVE ONE ANOTHER.

I'm not trying to be rude (well, not completely at least), but isn't that a little ironic? Does telling someone that they're going to hell qualify as being loving? Does it make someone actually want to become a Christian by reading that? Maybe it does, and I just don't get it. I don't know. I'm trying to understand the reasoning with this. Somebody please enlighten me.

Saturday, August 25, 2007

Feelings and Faith

Mother Teresa's Crisis of Faith is the most popular article on Time.com today. I just reread it this morning and find it to be fascinating. This information about Mother Teresa is a prelude to a book yet to be released about her, Come Be My Light, which will include content from some of her letters that tell of her struggles in faith. Although the Time article is long, it is worth the read. These are a couple of paragraphs from it that stood out to me:

The church anticipates spiritually fallow periods. Indeed, the Spanish mystic St. John of the Cross in the 16th century coined the term the "dark night" of the soul to describe a characteristic stage in the growth of some spiritual masters. Teresa's may be the most extensive such case on record. (The "dark night" of the 18th century mystic St. Paul of the Cross lasted 45 years; he ultimately recovered.) Yet Kolodiejchuk sees it in St. John's context, as darkness within faith. Teresa found ways, starting in the early 1960s, to live with it and abandoned neither her belief nor her work. Kolodiejchuk produced the book as proof of the faith-filled perseverance that he sees as her most spiritually heroic act.

. . .
Kolodiejchuk thinks the book may act as an antidote to a cultural problem. "The tendency in our spiritual life, but also in our more general attitude toward love, is that our feelings are all that is going on," he says. "And so to us the totality of love is what we feel. But to really love someone requires commitment, fidelity and vulnerability. Mother Teresa wasn't 'feeling' Christ's love, and she could have shut down. But she was up at 4:30 every morning for Jesus, and still writing to him, 'Your happiness is all I want.' That's a powerful example even if you are not talking in exclusively religious terms."

This bears repeating: The "attitude toward love is that our feelings are all that is going on." I love that (pardon the pun). But, really, that statement is spot-on. There's this cultural (mis)conception that love is merely a feeling - an abstract noun - rather than recognizing love as a verb.
I know that, at times, I'm guilty of viewing love in this way. The implication is that if I'm not "feeling it," then it must not be there; it must not be real. In actuality, this "blah" feeling that comes upon me at times may be due to a number of things that have nothing to do with the presence or absence of love. Maybe I'm having indigestion, and all I'm feeling is gross. Or maybe I didn't get enough sleep, and all I'm feeling is tired. Or maybe I just watched Fox News, and all I'm feeling is brain dead.

The perception that love is only a feeling can affect the quality of our actions in so many of our relationships: spiritual union with God, friendships, relationships with strangers, relationships with enemies or those who have sinned against us, and romantic partnerships and marriages. This faulty assumption follows something along the lines of, 'If I don't feel love for you today, for whatever reason, then I must not love you and will act accordingly. And, if I don't feel like you love me today, for whatever reason, then you must not love me and will act accordingly.' This mindset does not make for enduring, loving relationships, yet it seems to be so pervasive that it almost feels absurd to recognize that feelings are not always, indeed, fact.
I know I need to remind myself of this quite often, and it's still really hard for me sometimes when I'm just not "feeling" it. I'm not saying that feelings are wrong or bad or to be ignored and suppressed. Not at all. Feelings are feelings. It's when I feel that I must act on every feeling that I find myself adrift. In that aspect (and many others), Mother Teresa is truly a model of how to love and remain loving, even through the most difficult of feelings.

"It is easy to love the people far away. It is not always easy to love those close to us. It is easier to give a cup of rice to relieve hunger than to relieve the loneliness and pain of someone unloved in our own home. Bring love into your home for this is where our love for each other must start."
- Mother Teresa

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Update

I tried to post on here last night, but it didn't go through for some reason. So, I'll give it a try again and hope for the best. . .

I'm back to having a life after several months of stressful transitions and being consumed by grad school. It's amazing how much more free time I have now, even with a full-time job and the occasional freelance article (for a local magazine). I'm in the process of prioritizing what I'd like to do with this sudden abundance of free time, mostly because I'm going to start what I'll refer to as a new "writing project" (lest the B-word scare me into writer's block). And I'd like to actually finish this one. Therefore, I've been debating about whether I want to continue keeping a blog. Not that I've posted on here all that frequently, but still.

After thinking it over, I've decided that this blog is a good medium for developing and extrapolating material that I may want to expand upon in my writing project. So, I'll be back to posting again. I had an interesting theological discussion this summer with someone at my high school reunion (10-year . . . scary!). I'll write more about that in another post, though.