Monday, April 28, 2008
Monday, February 4, 2008
Corporate Prayer
Last Wednesday I attended a church's prayer service, something new in the life of that particular church. The service opened with a hymn and a responsive reading of a Psalm. The first category of prayer was praise and thanksgiving, followed by another responsive Psalm reading and a time of intercession/ supplication. The service ended with the Lord's Prayer, Gloria Patri, and a Benediction.
Prayer is something that I think many Christians, especially Presbyterians and the like, struggle with. I think maybe prayer is like an onion. This is a terribly crude example, but prayer is one of those things that is deceptively simple. It is simple enough that a child can pray, but the more you pray, the older you get, the deeper you find the experience. I think there are layers of prayer, and many times we settle for only getting through the first few layers.
I found it interesting that the prayer service was just that, a service. Is it better to have a fairly highly structured time of prayer than not? Perhaps when a church is just beginning to pray together it's important to have some structure.
Also, is it a good idea to have 35 people all praying in one large group? Corporate prayer is a funny thing. When you leave time for people to pray openly, what kind of prayer etiquette do you observe?
--How do you know when someone has finished their prayer? When they pause?
--What if two people start praying at exactly the same moment? Usually in this case one person gets slightly embarrassed and drops out, waiting until the person before them has finished.
--What about the people who are nervous about interrupting others and can't get a word in edgewise because the prayers start coming so fast that it almost becomes necessary to interrupt?
Let me pause to say that while all this sounds critical, I do deeply appreciate the efforts of the church to come together for prayer. I think it is a vitally important part of church life; prayer opens doors, we're supposed to do it, and it's a great way to know what's on people's hearts.
Sometimes I just wonder if there are ways to pray corporately that could avoid some of the awkwardness, or maybe I need to work on being bolder in prayer. Perhaps we could meet somewhere in the middle (ex. breaking up into smaller groups). In the end, I think the heart attitude is probably the key to rich times of prayer, and corporate prayer can be a powerful thing.
Prayer is something that I think many Christians, especially Presbyterians and the like, struggle with. I think maybe prayer is like an onion. This is a terribly crude example, but prayer is one of those things that is deceptively simple. It is simple enough that a child can pray, but the more you pray, the older you get, the deeper you find the experience. I think there are layers of prayer, and many times we settle for only getting through the first few layers.
I found it interesting that the prayer service was just that, a service. Is it better to have a fairly highly structured time of prayer than not? Perhaps when a church is just beginning to pray together it's important to have some structure.
Also, is it a good idea to have 35 people all praying in one large group? Corporate prayer is a funny thing. When you leave time for people to pray openly, what kind of prayer etiquette do you observe?
--How do you know when someone has finished their prayer? When they pause?
--What if two people start praying at exactly the same moment? Usually in this case one person gets slightly embarrassed and drops out, waiting until the person before them has finished.
--What about the people who are nervous about interrupting others and can't get a word in edgewise because the prayers start coming so fast that it almost becomes necessary to interrupt?
Let me pause to say that while all this sounds critical, I do deeply appreciate the efforts of the church to come together for prayer. I think it is a vitally important part of church life; prayer opens doors, we're supposed to do it, and it's a great way to know what's on people's hearts.
Sometimes I just wonder if there are ways to pray corporately that could avoid some of the awkwardness, or maybe I need to work on being bolder in prayer. Perhaps we could meet somewhere in the middle (ex. breaking up into smaller groups). In the end, I think the heart attitude is probably the key to rich times of prayer, and corporate prayer can be a powerful thing.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
It Was Just That Kind of Day
This afternoon I was getting ready to leave for the day. I tidied my desk, logged off the computer, and generally straightened up a bit. I had a few papers that needed to be shredded, so I headed off to the back room. I shredded about half the papers when the machine decided to stop. I turned it off and then turned it back on, hoping that this would fix the minor glitch. Unfortunately, it did not, so I decided that perhaps the basket was full, which would explain the problem.
A word of advice: if the compartment which holds the shredded bits of paper does not come out easily, it is not wise to attempt pulling harder to get the compartment out. When the compartment gets stuck, perhaps try partially emptying the container first.
It may surprise you to hear that instead of following this excellent piece of advice, I pulled hard on the container, resulting in a minor explosion of shredded paper bits which fluttered to the floor. The compartment came out after this though [with a little more tugging], and I was able to empty the rest of the contents into a trashcan instead of the floor. I had no idea that such a small compartment could contain so many bits of paper. No wonder I'd had trouble.
As I swept up the floor, I thought about how accurate a representation of my day the incident was, but decided that laughter was the best response. I am convinced that some days happen as a test to see how good your sense of humor truly is.
A word of advice: if the compartment which holds the shredded bits of paper does not come out easily, it is not wise to attempt pulling harder to get the compartment out. When the compartment gets stuck, perhaps try partially emptying the container first.
It may surprise you to hear that instead of following this excellent piece of advice, I pulled hard on the container, resulting in a minor explosion of shredded paper bits which fluttered to the floor. The compartment came out after this though [with a little more tugging], and I was able to empty the rest of the contents into a trashcan instead of the floor. I had no idea that such a small compartment could contain so many bits of paper. No wonder I'd had trouble.
As I swept up the floor, I thought about how accurate a representation of my day the incident was, but decided that laughter was the best response. I am convinced that some days happen as a test to see how good your sense of humor truly is.
Friday, January 18, 2008
No School Today
The grey clouds came close, trying to touch the ground, but they couldn't quite reach, so they poured themselves out in the attempt. I awoke to a gentle swirling world just starting to turn white. The snow came down steadily for most of the morning, and looking out the window I could see the progression of the snow, coming to cover the grass and trees and pavement in a soft thin blanket.
Something about snow makes me feel like a small child again; skipping everything to stay at home and admire the snow is exciting. We built a snowman, or snow girl, to be precise, we attempted sledding on an inner tube, we drank hot chocolate and sat by the gas fire -- all the things one should do on a snow day.
Everyone needs a few snow days, a few days when everything stops and there is time to listen to the silence that snow brings. Next time you have a snow day, go outside and listen. You may hear the peaceful silence and it may do you some good.
Something about snow makes me feel like a small child again; skipping everything to stay at home and admire the snow is exciting. We built a snowman, or snow girl, to be precise, we attempted sledding on an inner tube, we drank hot chocolate and sat by the gas fire -- all the things one should do on a snow day.
Everyone needs a few snow days, a few days when everything stops and there is time to listen to the silence that snow brings. Next time you have a snow day, go outside and listen. You may hear the peaceful silence and it may do you some good.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
NOLA 2008
What do you think of when someone says "New Orleans"? Katrina devastation? Jazz? Mardi Gras? The Mississipi River? Last week I went with the Fellows and some UVA students work with Habitat for Humanity in New Orleans. I'd never been before, and was glad of the opportunity to go see for myself what damage remains after hurricane Katrina two and a half years later.
My first thought as we walked around Magazine street was, "am I still in America?" NOLA has an atmosphere unlike that of any other American city I've been to [though I cannot say my experience is vast]. The architecture harkens back to European influence, especially French influence, and we got the feeling that people are more laid back than most other Americans. NOLA seems to be a city that knows how to celebrate, a city that doesn't mind being open [about alcohol, among other things].
I loved walking around the town, admiring the fact that most businesses are local instead of chains, the fact that the architecture is lovely, the friendliness of the people I encountered, the closely knit communities.
But of course, not everything about NOLA is beautiful. The devastation is real: next to one house that has been renovated are three shells of houses and a driveway that goes to a plot of grass. Driving through the lower 9th Ward the first night [I didn't realize at the time where I was] I was struck by the sense of loss and sadness that hangs over what remains there.
New Orleans is a place in need. Some people have moved back to the city, but many are afraid or haunted or have simply put down roots elsewhere. NOLA needs people of presence to move in and make a difference, as Ray Cannata, the pastor of Redeemer church in NOLA, told us. Actually, he told us that we should all move down there; I think he enjoys stirring things up.
My reflections on NOLA are still scattered, at best. I'm not sure what I think just yet, I'm still in the processing stage, but I thought I should get out a few initial thoughts for those of you who are interested.
My first thought as we walked around Magazine street was, "am I still in America?" NOLA has an atmosphere unlike that of any other American city I've been to [though I cannot say my experience is vast]. The architecture harkens back to European influence, especially French influence, and we got the feeling that people are more laid back than most other Americans. NOLA seems to be a city that knows how to celebrate, a city that doesn't mind being open [about alcohol, among other things].
I loved walking around the town, admiring the fact that most businesses are local instead of chains, the fact that the architecture is lovely, the friendliness of the people I encountered, the closely knit communities.
But of course, not everything about NOLA is beautiful. The devastation is real: next to one house that has been renovated are three shells of houses and a driveway that goes to a plot of grass. Driving through the lower 9th Ward the first night [I didn't realize at the time where I was] I was struck by the sense of loss and sadness that hangs over what remains there.
New Orleans is a place in need. Some people have moved back to the city, but many are afraid or haunted or have simply put down roots elsewhere. NOLA needs people of presence to move in and make a difference, as Ray Cannata, the pastor of Redeemer church in NOLA, told us. Actually, he told us that we should all move down there; I think he enjoys stirring things up.
My reflections on NOLA are still scattered, at best. I'm not sure what I think just yet, I'm still in the processing stage, but I thought I should get out a few initial thoughts for those of you who are interested.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
So what exactly do you do?
What do you tell the dentist when he asks you what you're doing now that you've graduated from college? You know that you have about 25 seconds to say something before he sticks a metal scraper and a mirror in your mouth, so it had better be a concise statement. I admit, whenever anyone asks me what I'm doing this year, I pause for a few seconds to analyze how much I think they want to hear, and answer accordingly. Most people get the 45 second version, and a few get more details, but the 45 second version is good enough for most.
Occasionally when the tenth person in a row has asked me what I'm doing, I am slightly tempted to get more creative in my answers. Here are some good choices:
"I'm in a Fellows program. They let me in because my name sounds like a boy's."
"Well actually, I joined a cult."
"I can't actually tell you what I do."
I've never been brave enough to try any of these, because the people who ask me what I'm doing are generally nice people, so I just try to give a quick overview of what I do. I have a part time job, I take a couple seminary classes, I work with the youth group, I tutor a 2nd grader once a week, there are 11 other people doing the same thing I am... and yes, I like it. No, I don't know what I'm doing next year.
Occasionally when the tenth person in a row has asked me what I'm doing, I am slightly tempted to get more creative in my answers. Here are some good choices:
"I'm in a Fellows program. They let me in because my name sounds like a boy's."
"Well actually, I joined a cult."
"I can't actually tell you what I do."
I've never been brave enough to try any of these, because the people who ask me what I'm doing are generally nice people, so I just try to give a quick overview of what I do. I have a part time job, I take a couple seminary classes, I work with the youth group, I tutor a 2nd grader once a week, there are 11 other people doing the same thing I am... and yes, I like it. No, I don't know what I'm doing next year.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
What is this "real world"?
They tell me that this is training for real life, having small amounts of "free" time and having to budget it very carefully. They say that in the "real world" I will be as busy or even busier.
They tell me that it is good to learn to know lots of people and keep up lots of friendships. But at what cost? Does this mean in real life I'm doomed to having many shallow relationships and none with any depth? It seems that I should just adjust, just do the best I can with the material they give me, with the expectations they have.
I refuse.
I have no desire to perpetuate the American status quo, to continue in the pattern of interactions with people in which there need be no discomfort; poking and prodding need not be tolerated. If someone gets too close or does something painful, we cut off the relationship, we move on to something new. We can always say our feelings have changed or we just don't see the point anymore or it's too painful and we cannot [and need not] take it.
So we stay away from people, we isolate and insulate ourselves, we try to get to know people and form a community, but our pride gets in the way, our habits get in the way, our attitudes get in the way, our time management gets in the way. What time in our busy schedules can we sacrifice to get to know other people?
Look at that last sentence again. Time spent getting to know people is a sacrifice? Yes, it is, this is true. But what does American culture know of sacrifice? Investing in people and truly getting to know their ins and outs is not seen as worthwhile, as something worth pursuing. Building a true community in the fullest sense of the word is rare, even for those with the best of intentions.
How then can we achieve such a thing? How can we make a stand to be different, to truly care for one another and to live out the true [and practical, difficult] meaning of love?
They tell me that it is good to learn to know lots of people and keep up lots of friendships. But at what cost? Does this mean in real life I'm doomed to having many shallow relationships and none with any depth? It seems that I should just adjust, just do the best I can with the material they give me, with the expectations they have.
I refuse.
I have no desire to perpetuate the American status quo, to continue in the pattern of interactions with people in which there need be no discomfort; poking and prodding need not be tolerated. If someone gets too close or does something painful, we cut off the relationship, we move on to something new. We can always say our feelings have changed or we just don't see the point anymore or it's too painful and we cannot [and need not] take it.
So we stay away from people, we isolate and insulate ourselves, we try to get to know people and form a community, but our pride gets in the way, our habits get in the way, our attitudes get in the way, our time management gets in the way. What time in our busy schedules can we sacrifice to get to know other people?
Look at that last sentence again. Time spent getting to know people is a sacrifice? Yes, it is, this is true. But what does American culture know of sacrifice? Investing in people and truly getting to know their ins and outs is not seen as worthwhile, as something worth pursuing. Building a true community in the fullest sense of the word is rare, even for those with the best of intentions.
How then can we achieve such a thing? How can we make a stand to be different, to truly care for one another and to live out the true [and practical, difficult] meaning of love?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
