A Thought and a Prayer

A Thought

I enjoyed reading Emily Ley’s 27 Decisions I Made Once and Never Made Again. It’s filled with practical, helpful ideas. It’s had me thinking about what faith decisions fall in that decide-once rubric.

It’s a strange question because faith isn’t supposed to be efficient or a set of tasks. As an adult, I’ve come to think of faith at its best as Wonderland: Eat this. Drink that. Try this door; no, that one; no, maybe not that one. Join this tea party. Laugh. Cry. Swim in a river of your own tears. Have the life scared out of you by evil queens and monsters and babies that shape-shift. Feel abandoned and betrayed. Pick up a dropped glove. Play some croquet. Learn what you can from the weirdness of it all.

As an adult, I’ve also come to embrace the kind of scaffolding that decide-once provides. As much as I want a living, breathing, changing faith, I also know that I need some structure around it. I can’t say that I’m deciding once and never again, but for now, here are some of my faith decisions:

• Unstructured prayer: As much as I love words, I’ve let them go for most of my solo-prayer life. I’m at such a loss around “intercessory prayer,” even as I find myself wanting to pray for others more and more. I’ve found peace in not needing to know what to say. I light candles. I write names down. I repeat names over and over. I think of a person and read a poem that I dedicate to them. I lie on my yoga mat and imagine specific people held in warm light. These practices are so much more intuitive than trying to think of what-to-ask-God-for.

• Pledged giving: I make a financial commitment to my church and its ministries at the beginning of every fiscal year and set it up for automatic deduction. Nothing about that sounds very spiritual, but it’s important to me. I know that I’m supporting good, meaningful work in my community, and I don’t agonize about the amount. I make the decision for the year, and I stay committed to it.

• Showing up on Sunday morning: If I am at home on Sunday, I’m going to church. I’ve had a strange schedule for a few months and have missed church. I don’t enjoy worship services; I think it’s important to say that honestly. I can just feel that it’s good for me to make and honor this standing commitment to myself. It’s good for me to take an hour a week to think about life. It’s good to be in a room filled with all kinds of people who are there for all kinds of reasons. It’s good to participate in rituals that have endured throughout time and space. So I go, and I keep the habit because I know that when I get out of the habit, it’s hard to start again.

• Letting questions stay open: My daughters have started asking more questions about faith and life. I love this part of parenting because of a decide-once moment. I value the mystery in my faith, and I think that sense of mystery is probably the best gift I can give my daughters. We have rich, meaningful conversations that don’t, strictly speaking, go anywhere. Instead, they go everywhere. They love all that I don’t know. They love wondering with me. Their willingness to stick with questions has deepened my faith more than any class or book.

A Prayer

On Sunday, I served as the elder for my church’s service. One of my responsibilities was to offer the prayers of the people. Here is my prayer:

Gracious and loving God,

We gather this morning grateful for spring and all the signs of life around us. The sunshine, lush greenery, and chirping birds remind us of our place in the flow of grace. My mom often sang “His Eye is on the Sparrow, and I know he watches me” when I was a kid. That song and that assurance has come flooding back to me as the earth is waking up from winter, and I am so grateful.

We hold our gratitude along with our worries. Every week, our church prays for a lengthy list of people experiencing spiritual, physical, emotional, and financial distress. We pray for those mentioned and for all the concerns that go unsaid: The students hoping for scholarships, worried about upcoming tests, or dealing with friends who aren’t acting like friends. The adults running around like headless chickens as the school year ends, trying to juggle work and caregiving responsibilities while making magical memories. The people who are unable to be out and about, who are in need of healing or friendship or both. We know that every person who gathers this morning has both joy and sorrow in their hearts. We pray for the balance to tip in favor of joy as often as possible.

Please make this time of worship meaningful and relevant to our lives. Help us to trust in you and each other. Give us wisdom to hear your calling for us as individuals, families, and a church. Help us to know when to lean in and when to let go.