by Sujatha Balasundaram. All Rights Reserved.
Prayer takes different forms during different stages of our walk with the Lord. The forms of prayer we use are closely related to where we are in our relationship with Jesus and the life journey we find ourselves at.
For example, when I was little I sat with my hands folded and eyes closed and I talked about things closest to me – my dad , my mom, my brother and myself. It was simple and straight from the heart. As a pre-teen and teen I wanted time with God. I would sit and try hard to listen or just sit and talk/cry/laugh/argue. In my youth, I would be in different postures at different times, sometimes lying in bed, sometimes while working, but God was a friend, someone I could talk to anywhere and anyhow.
Talking to God was a habit my mother inculcated in me, before we eat, before we study, before we start a test, before we sleep etc. As a young adult , I tried more ways to stay in God’s presence. I loved to draw and so I would draw as I remembered God’s word and as I talked to God or listened or just wondered/pondered over that thought/word. As a young mom I prayed while I nursed while I tried to sleep but couldn’t, why I sometimes slept while I prayed. I believe all of these are valid forms of communication with our Creator God. What matters is our heart. However if our posture or form is being a stumbling block to another we would do better to choose another form or another venue. I know as a young person growing up in India I would not be lying down and praying to my Almighty God in front of adults. While at the same time we need to remember that forcing any one posture or legalizing prayer would only quench one’s ability to express oneself before their Maker. There is value in different postures of prayer that can acknowledge our relationship with our Lord: kneeling before our Master, Bowing before the Almighty; sitting in the presence of our best friend etc.
As a mom I wanted my children to know that communication with God is just a part of normal life. So we started while I was pregnant me reading/pondering/talking with God aloud. As a baby I would pray and sing over them, even as they lay in bed. Once they learned to sit we allotted a special time for focused conversation with God just like we would a tummy time or a play date or a snack time or potty time. It would be just a song they could clap to, imitate actions or smile or a simple prayer over them in Jesus name.
When my children could grasp onto things I gave them crayons and paper as I read stories or I prayed. Here is a picture of one such work when they were 6 and 4.
by Sujatha Balasundaram. All rights reserved.
By the first year we were reading stories, memorizing scripture through song and dance and we would have a time of response which could be in words, drawing , dance, or music (they could make up their prayer in song). Children have an amazing connection with God even before they can articulate it. Here is a link to some of my children’s ‘selah moments’ (Selah in Hebrew means to pause and think about that) – https://artresponse.wordpress.com/selah-moments/nadiras-selah/
By understanding ones developmental stage and creating the right environment one can linger in God’s presence for much longer than we give them credit.
More recently I have discovered that people who find it hard to stay still and pray just need to relax. And a tool of relaxation that has been widely used these days is coloring. I am an artist and so I offer my Selah moments in ink for adults and children to color and ponder over the scripture in focus. I have heard back from many people on its effectiveness as a tool.
So praying creatively is creating that environment where we can simply BE in God’s presence (because He sees us through and through and we see a glimpse of His glory).
Inspirational material: Its not really a book but I had the privilege of working along side a team who put together a series of lectures by a professor at Asbury Theological Seminary, Dr. Reg Johnson. He shares beautiful insights into prayer. He called it ‘learning to pray again’. There are 2 CDs with his lectures and handouts.
The other is as you mentioned “Praying in Color” I attribute Sybil McBeth’s work as ‘my coming-out-of-the-closet-experience’
This post is part of the September Creative Prayer theme.
by Cynthia Helton. All rights reserved.
Here I sit on this steamy afternoon, trying to ignore the mosquito bites from the tiny adversaries who lie in wait for me by the water faucet. Don’t they understand that God “NEEDS” me to give a life-saving drink to the newly planted Hibiscus, the transplanted Monkey Grass, the Gardenia languishing near the drive way??? Won’t they please leave me alone as I fill the bird feeder for the Cardinals who’ve nested in our trees for many of their generations?
Why do I subject myself to this discomfort? Why do I make this effort in triple-digit Texas heat? Out of respect. Out of gratitude for what they give to me. Out of a sense of stewardship. The plants, the animals, the mountains and rivers all have their own purpose in God’s plan? Trees surely have families; as do fish and birds and all wild creatures. They were here on Mother Earth long before we humans. They are our first teachers, if we’d only listen. So, do they really need “me?” In their wild natural habitat, absolutely NOT! However, in this cultivated, manicured plot of foreign soil, they need an advocate. And that would be me! I give them water, fertilizer, good soil, respect. They give me shade, beauty, and the companionship of cherished friends. It’s a reciprocal relationship!
So, what has this all got to do with prayer? In my way of thinking, prayer is so much more than reciting words or attending a church service. That’s a bold statement from this Roman Catholic turned Episcopalian who “toed the line” of organized religion for the better part of 60 years. Somewhere along the way (actually it was on a stony mountain in southwestern Ireland) my horizons broadened. Really they completely blurred – and it wasn’t pleasant! I longed for the comfort of God as I’d always known Him: Father “in heaven,” ready to answer my prayers with miracles granted because I said just the right words or behaved properly. I’d always found comfort in my “go-to” God, who I could ask to take care of everything, irregardless of reality. When things didn’t work out, I could chalk it to “God’s will,” or some lesson He wanted me to learn. The stark realization that things simply don’t work that way scared me – made me angry that I could no longer snuggle down with my comfortable image of God. Not only is God not a “He,” heaven isn’t “up there” either! My notion of God became skewed; but painfully focusing on who God ISN’T slowly gave way to the “pinprick” of awareness of who God IS. “THIS” was the miracle – the answer to my unformed, unspoken prayer ..one I didn’t even realize I was praying! This unsettling course began in nature. The healing balm was generously offered back to me through nature.
So how do I accept this gift? How do I meld together my new-found sense of wonder with any quality of worship? HOW DO I PRAY NOW? Just as a child can’t go back into its mother’s womb, I can’t NOT KNOW what I now understand. The wording in formal worship, at times, tries to drag me back; to convince me that somehow there’s been a misunderstanding. How do I honor this shift in awareness without feeling like I’m shirking my responsibility to worship God? Well … I dig in the dirt. I water the plants. I feed the birds. I rejoice in the abiding essence of God at every turn: at my back door step, in the clearing at the end of our property, on the nature walk trail, on the gravel road east of town. There’s God, just waiting to be loved and love me back. But it’s not easy! I must pay attention; stay awake; stay aware. It’s so easy to get distracted; so easy to fall out of love. Back to those mosquitoes, I still don’t like them, but will keep my distance and use DEET to deflect their attentions away from my ankles without killing them. That’s living in harmony – even with circumstances, people, BUGS!! you’d rather do without. Then creation’s sucker-punch: the cycle of life also contains loss, hardships and death, whether we’re human, forest, ocean, or mosquito. God is in the darkness. God doesn’t “save” us from any of it …God abides within it. To me, that was a very hard and sobering truth to absorb.
At a recent gathering, a song was shared that moved me profoundly. It’s rhythmic melody, the accompanying drum beat, the simplicity of it’s message resonated with this feeling of inter-connectedness I’m struggling to verbalize. It’s lyrics, here, say it best …
“Who am I in the wonder? Who am I in the woe?
Who am I in the darkness? Who am I in the light?I am wind upon the sea.
I am the roar of the ocean.
I am the salmon swimming in the river.
I am the eagle soaring in the sky.
I am the teardrop of the sun.
I am fire burning in the night. I am the light of God.Who am I in the wonder? Who am I in the woe?
Who am I in the darkness? Who am I in the light?…Stefan Waligur
(For the melody, go to https://soundcloud.com/mcfarlandp-1/1-01-i-am-fire)
This post is part of our September Creative Prayer theme.
Many of us believe we are called to be co-creators with God, but when it comes to prayer it seems our creativity suddenly dries up, unless we are kids. Kids are encouraged to explore their creativity by playing games, reading books, walking in nature, planting and watching things grow, listening to music and drawing together. Adults are encouraged to pray only with their minds and not with their imaginations or other God given senses.
According to Albert Einstein:“Creativity is intelligence having fun.” So why should kids have all the fun? It is my growing conviction that we all need to learn to be more creative and more experiential with our prayers. If we truly believe we are made in the image of our creative God and it is through prayer that we connect to God surely this should be one of the primary places we exercise our creativity. Not creativity for the sake of creativity, but creativity that draws us into a deeper relationship with our creator God and with God’s aching heart for our world.
We need to allow the spirit of God to stir our imaginations to create new models of prayer and new expressions of spiritual practices. This doesn’t mean letting go of our prayer life, but rather using the creative tools of ancient spiritual practices to reshape and reimagine how we pray.
Tapping into our Imaginations
Russian philosopher Nikolai Berdyaev said God created the world by imagination, a creative imagination that is still being expressed and that we are invited to be a part of. In Isaiah 48: 6,7 God says: I am telling you new things, secrets hidden that no one has known. They are created now—brand new, never before announced, never before heard. Each moment of the day is a fresh revelation of God. Each moment is alive with new possibilities and part of the power of prayer is the opportunity to tap into the potential of that moment and create something new. It might be a new artistic expression that reflects a growing personal intimacy with God or it could be a creative new idea for a way to become involved in our neighbourhoods.
God Creates in Infinite Variety.
We only need to walk around our gardens for a few minutes, or gaze into the faces of people we pass in our neighbourhood, to know that God creates in infinite variety. No two created beings are alike. Yes there are patterns that God follows for any given species, but within that pattern no two organisms are the same. And even the number of species is almost infinite.
So I think it is meant to be with prayer. There are patterns for us to follow – for instance there are contemplative patterns like lectio divina, intercessory patterns in which we brings our our own needs and those of the world before God, and patterns of praise in which we express our love for God, but within those patterns the way we express ourselves is almost infinite.
One person might like to take photos and contemplate those as an exercise in prayer. Another might like to paint rocks as I do as a reflective exercise. Someone else might go for a walk. The possibilities are endless. Several years ago when I was just starting to explore this creative approach to prayer, I posted a series entitled Tools for Prayer which gives a small glimpse into this variety. This month’s focus on creative prayer is providing all of us with even more possibilities. Of one thing I am convinced, God’s creativity is never exhausted.
God creates from the Essence of Who God Is
Every part of the created world reflects something of who God is. We see God’s love in a mother’s tender caress. We see God’s generosity in an abundant harvest, and we see God’s compassion every time a stranger reaches out to help in the midst of a crisis. As we look for the presence of God in our world and interact with the love, compassion and generosity we see around us, we touch and express something of the nature of God and that is prayer.
My friend, Mark Scandrette, often posts photos of street graffiti. A couple of days ago he posted the image. God’s heart of love is never silenced. Prayer is not about words. Nor is it about images, it is about God’s heart for us and for our world.
God Creates Patterns out of Chaos
It fascinates me that one of the most effective tools for prayer is doodling, a seemingly random and chaotic act that unleashes our creativity and draws us into relationship with God.
God creates patterns from chaos. Nature is full of what are known as fractal images, complex patterns created by repeating a simple process over and over in a feedback loop. Trees, rivers, coastlines, mountains, clouds, seashells, hurricanes are all fractal patterns, what are sometimes called images of Chaos.
We don’t need to start with a pattern for something beautiful to emerge, we create the pattern. All we need are a few simple rules, a little imagination and the creative power of God.
God Creates Out of the Longing to See All Things Made Whole
At the heart of our universe is a God who longs to see all things made whole again and as we tap into the creative power of prayer we cannot help but express this. Out of the creative core of God’s being come new ways to provide homes for the homeless, new entrepreneurial ventures for the jobless, new approaches to the pollution of our planet.
Prayer is not passive it is active, and these responses are, I believe, all forms of prayer. Every time we look around and see newness emerging where there has been decay, or create wholeness where there has been brokenness, we are seeing into the heart of a God who asks to pray constantly not just in words but in actions. I love what Rebecca Joy Sumner is doing to help us reimagine scripture and prayer lived out in the neighbourhood with this kind of intent – like her post I’m Having a Failure of Hope Kind of Morning. The downloadable pdf she has attached is a wonderful resource for using scripture to pray in a different way for our neighbourhoods.
Question: Where do you see God creating wholeness in our broken world and where is God asking you to join in?
by Nils von Kalm
Addis Ababa March 2015 by Nils von Kalm. All Rights reserved
One of the distinctive marks of the Christian faith is the message that the God who made everything wants to have a personal relationship with us. God is both ultimate and intimate. When we look up at the stars on a clear night we can often think like the Psalmist did,
When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what are mere mortals that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them? (Psalm 8:3-4)
Pondering our existence in the context of the whole of creation can cause us to either see ourselves as the famous astronomer Carl Sagan did, as a “lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark” – so tiny and insignificant that we just don’t matter at all – or we can marvel at the idea that the One who made it all knows the number of hairs on our head (Matthew 10:30).
Christian belief affirms – loudly and clearly – the latter. God is personal, God is relational. We can know and be known by this God. And the way to get to know someone is through spending time with them, either in conversation or in stillness, just being with them. When we commune with God in this way we call it prayer.
Prayer comes out of a recognition, conscious or otherwise, that we are not God and that we are limited in our power to affect the change we would like. This is why prayer is so crucial to our identity. We want to do everything that is possible to make the world a better place, but we recognise that we simply do not have what it takes to humanly make the changes we want to see.
The vision of transformation that most people have for the world is a prayer not just for those experiencing suffering; it is also for ourselves and our neighbours here in the affluent West, that we will recognise that we too – perhaps we especially – need transforming.
Prayer is something that can be done in many forms. Most of the world’s people have a religious foundation to their lives. Many are Christian, and many are of other faiths. But the idea of prayer is fundamentally the same. It is about seeking God out.
For many people, prayer is a ritual. Rituals are healthy because they give structure to our lives; they help us to live a life of self-discipline. For others, prayer is done loudly, in an atmosphere of something approaching ecstasy; while for others prayer is something that is more contemplative and quiet, done in the stillness of a small group or a Taize service. Each of these expressions has biblical foundations.
Throughout the whole of Scripture we see the suffering heart of God for the poor and oppressed. Many of us would be aware that there are over 2,000 verses in the Bible that relate to poverty. It is through prayer that we get in touch with this God who has a passion for justice and righteousness.
It is through prayer that we become more like this God who walked the dusty roads of the Middle East 2,000 years ago, giving his life that all might experience the joy of being part of the kingdom of love, justice and transformation that is coming. And it is through prayer that our hearts are changed when we ask God, in the words of World Vision founder, Bob Pierce, “Let my heart be broken by the things that break the heart of God.”
This post is part of our September Creative Prayer theme.
by Kate Kennington Steer, all photos by Kate Kennington Steer, used with permission
O most noble Greenness, rooted in the sun,
shining forth in streaming splendor upon the wheel of Earth.
No earthly sense or being can comprehend you.
You are encircled by the very arms of Divine mysteries.
You are radiant like the red of dawn!
You glow like the incandescence of the sun!‘O most noble Greenness’
(English version by Jerry Dybdal and Matthew Fox)
I first met Hildegard of Bingen, a twelfth century nun, in the shape of words on a card I was sent when I had glandular fever as a young teenager. Ten years later I found her books in the Bodleian library when I was researching female spirituality and Wisdom. Ten years after that her work formed the basis for my PhD on Convent Drama and the role of the Bride of Christ. Thirteen years after finishing that PhD I find she is still with me, a difficult figure to relate to in so many ways, but a visionary inspiration none the less, and a woman who asks me to be a seer and inspirer in my turn.
Hildegard of Bingen (c1098-1179) was no ordinary Benedictine nun, and she has rightly now been recognised as one of the Mothers of the Church. She was an Abbess, founding two convents; a prophet, speaking aloud several books of visions to be scribed by her secretary; she was a composer and dramaturg; she was a herbalist, healer and scientist; she was a preacher – to Kings, Popes and Bishops, and to anyone else who thought she should not speak her mind; and was also a copious dictator of letters to recipients throughout her native Rhineland and beyond. She was a Renaissance woman centuries before the Renaissance. And with all these skills, talents and impassioned interests comes a woman who I suspect was as divisive, difficult and stubborn as she was passionate and inspirational. A marmite woman I suspect.
But Hildegard is one of my heroes. She did all that she is now remembered for, and so much more that went unrecorded, whilst suffering from a debilitating illness, which experts now posit was probably some kind of migraine sickness. She regularly had to retreat to bed, dictating her works, letters and orders to her secretary in darkened rooms. This was a hugely charismatic woman who had an intricate personal knowledge of her own vulnerability. And sickness did not stop her being the leader, artist and healer God called her to be. In the face of huge periods of objection and rejection from the local Catholic male communities, she did not back down, stressing the importance for women to have an equal space within which to worship, and to worship in the way they themselves directed. Even when she had no guarantees she could rely on her own physical strength she undertook preaching tours amidst a fractious political and religious climate. Even when her Bishop received snide letters complaining about the music she and her nuns made, she did not stop composing the soaring polyphonies for which she is now so credited – polyphonies created in the age of plain chant – so that those who heard them and sung them might be taught about what she called ‘the inward things’.
And throughout it all, in all her works, she pointed her readers and listeners back to the power of her Creator, on Whose strength she relied, in Whom she lived and found her being.
It seems to me that it takes a very particular type of strong personality to be able to continue to live a creative, fruitful, flourishing life in the service of God and others; and that such a life-force is only found in those whose strength is based on a recognition of their absolute vulnerability and powerlessness. For Hildegard this life-force came from what she idiosyncratically identified as ‘viriditas’, a ‘greening’ of the spirit that forms the innate connection between God’s goodness in the heart and God’s goodness in the earth; a connection Hildegard personifies as Grace. ‘Greening’ is the epitome of God’s blessing to those God loves. She who was intimately acquainted with the brittle, desert times of pain, kept writing about the necessity of greening her own, and everyone else’s, spirit by contact with and obedience to her Beloved, the Creator, the All-Powerful God. She was determined to love her God and express that love in all the ways she knew how, despite the creative difficulties; indeed, through the difficulties. As I struggle to find ways in which I might join every day with the Creator in creating and healing, Hildegard’s expressive, exuberant celebration of the ways in which we may all still be greened continues to echo down the centuries to encourage me this day.
Holy Spirit, bestowing life unto life,
moving in All.
You are the root of all creatures,
washing away all impurity,
scouring guilt,
and anointing wounds.
Thus you are luminous and praiseworthy, Life,
awakening, and re-awakening all that is.‘Spiritus Sanctus vivificans vita’ (translation Norma Gentile)
By Rev. Jeannie Kendall
Photo by Jeannie Kendall. All Rights Reserved.
Last night I watched one of the Hobbit trilogy with a friend who is having chemotherapy. The antics of Bilbo are a wonderful distraction. There are now six films based on Tolkien’s books, the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings. The way all six films have been made accurately reflects one of the major themes in the books: that of the power and significance of friendship. I won’t give any major plot spoilers, but one part of the films has struck me in particular.
At the end of the third film, Bilbo returns home, and finds his house and its contents being sold. As he has been declared missing, and in a piece of wonderfully ludicrous hobbit bureaucracy matching our own, they demand proof of his identity, despite all knowing him well. He finds the contract he signed to give loyalty to Thorin the dwarf leader: a piece of legality which the truth of their complex relationship has long left behind. Asked by the hobbit auctioneer who Thorin is, Bilbo at last answers with a moving yet misleading simplicity: “He was my friend”.
The actuality of their bond had in reality been quite complex. In their 13 month mission there has been moments of suspicion, apparent betrayal, profound loyalty and, in the end, a deep connection which sprung from considerably more than their shared task. They laughed together, despaired together, traveled together, and shared a plethora of memories, yes. But Bilbo had also seen Thorin at his worst: challenged him at times, at times kept his own counsel, but always sought both for Thorin’s best and to see him become the leader he knew he could be, seeing in him the bravery and sense of honour which was not always apparent.
At this point you are perhaps thinking “I thought the theme this month was creative prayer?” Indeed. Stay with me for a moment longer…
It intrigues me that Jesus described his relationship to his followers (and so potentially to us) as one of friendship. Here is the Lord of the universe, who created everything, God incarnate, offering the inexpressibly precious gift of friendship. Perhaps this might have something which will help us with praying more creatively?
If I reflect on my own treasured friendships, I recognize that each one offers me something different. With some, there is a simple shared companionship: sitting together in a garden drinking tea, with few words needed. I remember a recent time in an early morning prayer meeting which (unusually) no-one was at. I said simply to God “Can we just sit here together for a while?” It was a cherished time, needing no words. With others I might walk in a wilder setting: appreciating the beauty of nature with its myriad colours, or laughing at the more peculiar aspects of nature mirroring our own unique idiosyncrasies. So too with God, I can walk in conscious awareness of his presence and listening out for him: (see an earlier blog of mine, http://marvellouslymade.tumblr.com/post/143427628552/on-heron-watching ).
Genuine friendship of course needs reciprocity: the risk of vulnerability from both people, even if that takes different forms. Some of our most holy moments in friendship are when we know our friends are taking the risk of abject honesty. Similarly, at times I can weep, or rage, in prayer in a way I can nowhere else. God’s vulnerability looks different from ours, yet he shares it with us, expressed most vividly at either end of Jesus’ life, both in the helpless dependence of being a baby and in the literal and emotional nakedness of the cross. Such vulnerability can help me feel safe as I gift him mine in prayer.
There are countless other examples: friends I write to, as prayers can be worded, ones I might send photographs to, just as we can create something as a prayer. Then there are those I simply cry for in their pain, as wordless tears are held by God as a prayer for another.
Each of us will possess a unique constellation of friendships. My simple contribution this month is this: let’s each of us take time to contemplate those God has gifted us with. Might this have something to teach us about new ways to engage with him in prayer? And all this becomes possible because God, a better friend even than Bilbo the hobbit, laughs with us, travels with us, challenges us, but always seeks for our best and, in the greatest miracle of all, says of us “this is my friend”.
by Andy Wade
“Take off your shoes, for the place that you are standing is holy ground.” Those weren’t the words that I heard that day over twenty-five years ago. What I “heard”, or more accurately more sensed, was “take off your shoes and wander the grounds. Listen to me through your feet.” I was at a pastors’ retreat in Arizona that was being held at a Franciscan retreat center. It was the final day, and I decided to head out to wander the grounds one last time. Sauntering along trails, over grassy sections, and across scorching hot pavement led me to a new way of praying, of listening, of conversing with God.
Praying barefoot has become one of my favorite ways to pray. Most often I pray barefoot in the garden, or in a park, or along a sandy beach. These are pretty easy ways to begin. But over the past month I’ve been sensing the need to walk barefoot through the business area of my community. It took me a while to actually do it. It sounded like a great concept, but “what would the neighbors think”?
I don’t normally care about such things, but as I ventured onto the sidewalk with naked feet I really felt out of place. I was the only one walking around without protection. My first impulse was to dash back to security and put on shoes like everyone else. But I told myself I was going to do this. For some reason I needed to do this. So I ventured on.
Walking in sandals or shoes on sidewalks shields our feet from a sensory extravaganza. There’s a buffer between me and the nitty gritty of my neighborhood. Removing my shoes I begin to notice every crack, every pebble, every contour and temperature change. To be honest, I felt more self-conscious than prayerful at the start. And as I thought about that and asked God how to overcome that so I could enter into the moment, I realized how many wander the streets feeling out of place, naked and exposed. For some it’s because they live on the streets and know that their presence isn’t welcome. For others it might be social phobia or anxiety. For many just venturing out into public is a frightening experience.
Lord, who are the people I’ve walked by without noticing? Who are the people I’ve noticed and judged? What are their stories, their struggles and hurts? How can we create a neighborhood where all feel loved and accepted?
Wandering around a corner I noticed a friend hopping out of his car. Do I greet him? Seems like a silly question, but he hadn’t noticed me, and I was doing something weird. I called out his name and waved. He crossed the street toward me. “Have you quit wearing shoes?” he asked. I told him what I was up to, and we ended up in a conversation about faith, spirituality, and belonging. It was a choice. I prefer to pray alone, but God interrupted my prayer with a friend. This friend entered into my prayer in the form of a conversation, and together we met with God.
Lord, help me to remain open to those around me. Help me to recognize opportunities to join with others in the celebration of life even when it may, at first, seem like an interruption to my plans or my way of doing things. Thank you for the gift of holy interruptions.
Continuing my journey, I reflected on how walking barefoot through the community forced me to slow down and notice. You have to be careful where you step, and you can’t be in a hurry when your tender feet are exposed. “Hot! Hot! Hot!…” Ironic that while reflecting on this a metal utility cover appeared out of nowhere! Spying a patch of weeds growing up through the cracks in the sidewalk, I rushed to the coolness of these unwanted plants.
Lord, where are the oases in my community? Are there places of comfort and rest that are overlooked, or worse, thought of as intrusions on a well-maintained neighborhood? How can I be a place of comfort for those burned or neglected? How might I receive hospitality from those I would normally turn away from?
Settling into the walk I began to really feel the community. It wasn’t just the sights, sounds, and smells but also the touch. The smooth sidewalk surface was frequently disrupted by concrete squares with a pebbled texture. The cracks slanting through older parts of the sidewalk reminded me of how cracks can be a crumbling nuisance or a mark of character earned by living life fully.
Crackling beneath my foot a fall leaf disintegrates. Yeah, fall is fast approaching, the seasons are changing. I can see the seasons changing in the business community too. There are established businesses that have been here since before the 60s, when I arrived on the scene. There are brand new businesses that have just opened up. For such a small area there’s also a surprising diversity of cultures. This is my home.
Lord, the world around us seems to be constantly changing. Help us to embrace the change that builds community and confront change that divides, alienates, or seeks to put a shiny facade on a serious issue. Give us wisdom to see the neighborhood through your eyes and to pray with my mouth and with my actions, “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”
Returning to where I began I sit down to reflect. I started my barefoot prayer through the neighborhood feeling out of place, self-conscious, and not too prayerful. But as I walked and listened and conversed with God and those God brought into my path, all that was replaced with a sense of peace, of belonging. Yes, my feet were filthy by the end. But that was just evidence that I had been present in my place.
We can live in a locale but be so shielded by our attitudes, habits, and comforts that we’re not really present. I know I often isolate myself from my larger neighborhood by working from home and not creating reasons to get out and about. What does it mean to really be present? What does it mean to really listen prayerfully in the place that you live? By shedding our shoes we can also shed some of my unseen assumptions about our community. Listening to God about our neighborhoods through our feet can help us to see and to pray differently.
- Have you ever prayed barefoot in your neighborhood?
- If so, how was it different than other forms of prayer?
- It not, would you consider it?
- Where else might you venture unshod?
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