Praying On Demand

I’m not tired of praying. I love the quiet, the listening, the stillness.

I'm not tired of praying with words. I especially enjoy praying with others who have written their prayers—I so appreciate that they took the time to write these down, to struggle and express their condition, their longings, their praises.

I'm not tired of praying. Craziest of all, sometimes I’ll be reading one of Paul’s letters, and he’ll ask his readers to pray for him…and I do. I can’t help it, he’s in trouble, and part of me cries out on his behalf. (I used to justify this by saying that 2000 years ago God knew I would be making this prayer, so it would have mattered in Paul’s situation, but that logic leads to strange outcomes What if I need to pray now to pass the exam I took 2 years ago. Would that have helped me?)

I’m not tired of praying as part of leading worship. I listen all week to the people around me. I think about the lectionary text for the week. I find myself praying at odd times during the week, preparing for Sunday morning, writing out phrases that capture this intersection. By the time Sunday morning arrives, I’ve prayed that same prayer many times; I share this with the people I love and we pray together.

I’m not tired of praying with those I visit in the hospital, although sometimes I am scared. There is so much power in these prayers. I talk a little, and listen a lot, and then ask if we can pray together. I hold a hand or touch a head, and voice the longings I have heard. They become my longings too, for healing, for hurting family members, for comfort in the fears, and in these prayers we are joined in Christ. I marvel at these moments.

I’m not tired of praying, except sometimes, when I feel as though I am a purveyor of religious services. Open the prayer for the finance committee. Say the closing prayer for the Sunday School class. The “on demand” prayer, the “isn’t it convenient to have a pastor with us” prayer drains. Unlike times when I give, by opening myself to God and sharing myself with others, these prayers feel like they are paid for, part of the job, purchased, demanded.

Yet even praying on demand, mid sentence, mind racing ahead wondering what to say next, in this tiny space, even here God can push my reluctance and force open a gap where you and I and God all meet. I tell myself I’m not tired of praying, even when I'm tired of praying.