Mystical Morning

O God, in all ages you have imparted yourself to man and set alight the fire of faith in his heart, grant to me the faith which comes from search. Cleanse my life from all hat negates and crushes out faith, and fill it with the purity and honesty which foster it. Cleanse me from the evil which makes unbelief its friend, and drive it far from me, so that, being wiling in all things to do your will, I may know the truth which shall set me free. Through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.
- Samuel M Shoemaker in Daily Prayer Companion, as quoted in Disciplines for the Inner Life by Benson and Benson.

For years I have been drawn to images of the inner life—an interior castle, a home, a cabin, rooms in which I go to seek God and rooms in which I find my self and get to know this person I am. I speculate about getting my self out of the way, or transformation of the self, or the interior life growing and filling and somehow bursting out. I enjoy this reflection on the interior life, to delight in God’s presence, and enjoy the moments of desiring God. On good days, this inner life pops surprises, unexpectedly giving peace or joy.

Candler encouraged me to distrust this, to worry whenever I am not reaching out in love to others. To pray alone is to focus on myself, and there is a risk that I will assume that the one I meet inside is not God but me. Certainly praying with others challenges my assumptions about God.

When I pray with others, lately with Don and Kristin, and often with those who are sick, there is a sense of connection. That within me is connected somehow to that within you. The bond is strong when we open ourselves, reveal ourselves, are willing to share ourselves. Days later, I look in your face, and feel the bond still present, no longer dramatically obvious, but gentle and gracious and polite.

There is this reaching out in love with one another in communal prayer, and I delight in this presence of God.

Interesting that communal prayer is teaching me not to question my need for private experience of God. Somehow the two are intertwined; on the most straightforward level it seems that I cannot share the me with you unless I spend time alone listening for who I am. There is more, though. There is a practice in opening self to God, when in the practice and discipline it becomes physical and natural to open self. Each practice, whether praying alone or praying this with others, instructs in the other practice. In the practices, in the discipline, there is grace, there are moments of certain trust that this is God present, this is God I know and God we know together and in one another.

These words aren’t coming out as hoped. My apologies to Evelyn Underhill—I suppose the important part of every reflection is that which it fails to express.