I am the ground of your beseeching.

Beseeching is a true and gracious, enduring will of the soul, united and joined to our Lord’s will by the sweet, secret operation of the Holy Spirit.

In what manner and how should we perform our prayers—our will should be turned, rejoicing, into the will of our Lord.

The fruit and the end of our prayer—to be united and like to our Lord in all things.

Julian of Norwich, Showings, Classics of Western Spirituality (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1978) pp. 248, 249, 251. from the Fourteenth Revelation, 41st and 42nd chapters.

 3:44 a.m.

Across the living room from my chair at the base of the silent TV screen, a red light stares, the only indication it’s on. The yellow digital readout of the time on the cable box above tells me the cable is off.

Awhile ago Nasha, the younger calico cat, jumped into my lap, purred, massaged the air with her paws; there being no morsel of food forthcoming, departed for a softer, warmer perch.

That did it.

I’d lain there awake for an hour, the small Mexican rosary slung over the fingers of my left hand, saying a fragment of the Jesus prayer “Mercy!” My fingers can’t distinguish the pearl-shaped beads and thick yarn very well on the small rosary. It fits in the palm of my hand.

I strung a larger one with big wood beads that I can feel. It’s the one I use.

The last week or so I’ve been saying the rosary daily, dunning away “Hail, Mary, full of grace….” The best audio on the web I’ve found is here. I prefer the scriptural rosary, which interlaces verses and Hail Marys, in English (although Dutch is available). The scripture version’s a bit longer time-wise, but until this is as automatic as breathing, I want the added biblical basis whenever I can get it. 

 After a beading session last week, when the tail of the beautiful black and gray rosary we’d made came undone, I asked my wife Sandy if she could imagine herself saying contemplative prayer.

“You mean, repeating ‘Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me a sinner’ or saying ‘Hail, Mary…’ 100 times? No. Maybe Philippians 4.13 or something.” Though she meant it kindly (and I did ask), I felt alone.

Later I noticed how she disappears for hours into the making of a rosary, as she does other projects. How she sings. Sandy’s a Martha. Her prayers are actions. Pretty consistently. She puts me to shame.

There’s a correspondent with a microphone for dTV on the edge of my consciousness.

—So, John, the Russians and the U.S. are playing the Sharks and the Jets around the world, and you’re what? What’s this about? This praying the rosary, a Catholic prayer to the Virgin Mary. You really believe all that stuff, do you?

—At this point, it’s respect for the people who say it and love it. Also, all religion has a large element of metaphor and poetry. But, in fact, I don’t know what it’s about exactly. All I know is counting prayers goes back into the forgotten past. I understand, when they give an Orthodox monk his prayer rope (which dates from the 3rd century), it’s like his sword to fight Satan. So maybe the beads are the real light saber of the real Jedi knight.

—Maybe it’s bull.

—No, a whole lotta stuff I used to believe is bull. That’s true. This? No, this is the way…

When I stumble, I’ll get right back up. I’ve got several Gold medals in that particular sport.  This longing in my heart for God? It’s for real, for keeps, for good.

Honest to God, a company that holds a chunk of my retirement savings called this week to inform me that I am not dead. They used my Social Security number by mistake for some claim. The official said I may be inconvenienced, but they are working to correct the error. Does that mean I will be dead soon? They said, just ignore any mail I may receive to the contrary. How do you write to the dead?

Journal: random thoughts about spiritual deepening

I’ve always wanted to be a monk. Something about living your whole life around the rhythm of prayer appeals to me. But in college I met the woman with whom I am one soul, and (not having the physical stamina to be a missionary) I went into the pastorate, often the equivalent of the hair shirt.

Now 30 years later I find myself at home alone most of the time, and physical constraints again limit what I can do. So I read, and the old hunger to live a life of prayer is back.

Reading Mother Julian slowly

One discipline I’ve undertaken is to read slowly, often aloud. Lectio divina? Maybe.

It’s not how I was taught to read. I took a rapid reading course at the beginning of my academic life, and I still often gut a book in an hour or two.

But you can’t get the most spiritually out of reading that way. That rapid reading skims the ideas off the surface. Slow reading sinks deep into the thought and experience of the writer.

The only problem is, it takes such a helluva long time. I’ve been reading Mother Julian (as C.F. Andrews calls her) for months!

I found this extraordinary prayer:

God, of your goodness, give me yourself, for you are enough for me, and I can ask for nothing which is less which can pay you full worship. And if I ask anything which is less, always I am in want; but only in you do I have everything.

Julian of Norwich. Showings. Classics of Western Spirituality.  (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1978), p. 184.

If anyone thinks this is just anti-body masochistic spirituality, they should read her amazingly tender account of how the body eliminates waste in  the love of God! (p. 186)

Praying Celtic Daily Prayer

At the suggestion of Scot McKnight, Jesus Creed, I’ve made the commitment to praying the daily office. Celtic Daily Prayer looks good, and I had a discount coupon, so I got the book. I know it’s online, but I like the feel of a good book in my hands. Nothing can replace that.

The only spiritual discipline that’s stuck for years is reading the psalm and gospel of the Daily Lectionary, BCP. I find the psalms begin to sink into my subconscious. So I always read them for devotion from the KJV or NRSV.

I’ll keep you posted how it goes.

Collective practice

I love the Collect form. The article “Collective wisdom” by John D. Witvliet in Christian Century 7-29-2008 reminded me of the basics. So I’ve been writing them, like haiku. It’s a great way to center prayer more on God than on self.

I’ve been dealing with anxious thoughts about getting older. This prayer caused the anxiety to dissipate and me to grin:

Loving God, you teach us to cast all our cares on you. Grant that we so trust you that anxiety will prompt us to pray without ceasing, love without limit, and wait without whining. In Jesus’ name. Amen