Holy Ground

Moses was told to take off his shoes because he was standing on holy ground. God came to him in a physical way in the burning bush. It was a unique event. But we are at an advantage. Christ lives within us, rendering THIS place, THIS moment, holy ground. Every moment, every place he has us walk is holy. We don't need to wait to be in a "holy place" to pray. We don't need to wait until we become "more holy" to pray (not that we can do that anyhow). This is the place to pray, this is the time to pray. 

This is the main idea, as I read it, of the section of chapter 1 titled Beginning Where We Are.  Foster continues by referencing one of my favorite musicals, Fiddler on the Roof. Tevye prays constantly as he walks along the road on his daily milk route. He fusses and complains and asks the hard questions, following the example of Jeremiah (20:7, for example).

I need to remember to take of my metaphorical sandals and talk with God. It's all holy ground, because he is with me.

Simple Prayer - Beginning at the beginning, again

 The most basic kind of praying, according to Foster, is simple prayer. This is the straightforward, dump it all in God's lap - however beautiful or ugly it may be - prayer. We don't like this kind of prayer. It feels selfish, self-centered, and un-spiritual. In church or small groups, we bring our requests before God, but we clean them up - we rarely get honest enough to say "my faith is failing because of this situation" or "this person makes me want to wring their neck!" No, we couch it in spiritual language. But in private, do we really bare all before God?

The heroes of the faith, at times, prayed this way. Foster lists several examples, including Moses when he whined to God about then stiff-necked people he had to lead through the desert - a rather self-serving prayer. Hannah in utter desperation prayed for a child.  Jesus included simple prayer in his instruction on praying: "Give us this day our daily bread."

Not that all simple prayers are self-centered. Sometimes the cry of our hearts in for others. Usually, it's for others we know, but sometimes strangers as well.

It seems central, regardless, that we be honest with God. It's not like we're actually hiding anything from him anyhow. And in my experience, working to be honest with God helps me to be honest with myself - which is often a problem.

Yearning and Hiding

I'm absolutely stopped short by today's opening paragraph in Foster's Prayer. He spells out the problem I face daily: yearning for prayer, yet hiding from it. Like the sides of magnets - attracted and repelled. What is that about? Why do I want to pray yet often can't seem to bring myself to do it? I think "Oh, I should pray about this," yet don't actually pray. What a strange dissonance of spirit. I'm reminded of the double-minded man of James 1 - unstable and immature. Some thing, or things, prevents me from just simply praying, right then and there!

Foster then points out one of the many "somethings" that we find to be a hindrance: we think we need to be perfect, or at least better, in order to actually pray. Our motives should be purer, our hearts cleaner, our thoughts more focused. I should have more time to 'really pray' rather than just rattling off a quick one. My heart and mind should be in the right place to pray so that God will hear/receive my prayers. What actual rubbish that all is.

It is exactly what we tell people when they want to come to Christ in the first place: "just come as you are! You can't clean yourself up enough for God to accept you, that is Jesus' job." So why on earth do I think I need to ge everything just so before I pray? It's actually kind of silly. 

I think the enemy likes to keep us in that same rut of thinking "if I just _____, then God will accept me." It is a trap, and one that I continue to fall into. And it has to stop!

Gathered in his arms

 Foster continues his illustration of a home by explaining that the key to these various rooms is prayer and the door is Jesus himself. Of course, this is Christ's own illustration in describing himself as the only way to the Father in salvation. But this takes it a hair farther with Christ being the way to the heart of God in prayer. I am not sure of the implications of this - perhaps it simply means that because we are in Christ, we have access to God in prayer.

He then tells a simple, profound story of a father with an overwrought toddler in a shopping mall. After trying many things to help the toddler to settle down, the dad simply picks him up and sings over him - to him. "Prayer,"says Foster, "is a little like that." I struggle to imagine myself nestled in the arms of God while he sings over me - while he whispers to me. But I think it is a worthwhile exercise.

Reviving the blog

Blogs are out of date, now. But I need a spot to write some thoughts and this is as good a place as any. We are back in South Asia after a decade in the US. A different, easier-for-me country this time. God is teaching me about prayer and I am beginning Richard Foster's book, Prayer, Finding the Heart's True Home. This will be where I record my thoughts and reflections.

Coming Home: an Invitation to Prayer is the title of this book's introduction. The first section is such a warm, passionate invitation to come to God! It evokes the beautiful image of the father of the prodigal as he stands in the road, arms open wide to receive the lost child as he returns. I am not a prodigal in that sense, but in another sense - one where I dwell many places other than the Father's arms and heart, I am indeed prodigal. 

Foster says "For too long we have been in a far country..." How true that is! Our lives, even as believers, when lived on their own are full of strife, frustration, fear. That is not the place of God, who invites us to intimacy, fullness, freedom, peace, and rest.

Using the image of a home, Foster goes through the various rooms to which we are invited - the kitchen - where friendship lies; the dining room - a place of refreshment and strength; the workshop where we join in labor with him; the study where we learn; and the bedroom where we find rest and intimacy. I think I (and many believers) are quite happy to enter into his study. And righly so, for there we learn great truths of who God is and of his boundless wisdom. We may also enter his workshop and labor for and with him. But how many of us - and here I include myself - venture into the kitchen to be his friend, or the dining room to truly feast on him. I think we venture into the bedroom from time to time to seek rest, but rarely do we stay long enough to encounter true intimacy.

God stands, as the father in the image, looking for me to return, longing to hold me in his arms, and to lavish his love upon me. That is where I want and NEED to be - each day, each hour, each moment.