Mutual Freedom

The path when God seems far away is dark and hard. I don't know where I'm going, yet life carries me along. It is hard, uncomfortable, and frightening. Foster reminds me that we can't demand anything of God. Our relationship with him is one of mutual freedom. We are free to choose or ignore him as we will, and he is free to show himself to us, or not, as he wills. Of course, he never ignores us, for that is not in his nature. But he is not obliged to come when we ask him.

 This is itself, a grace, says Foster, because God is "weaning us from fashioning him in our own image." Foster continues by recounting a season when he endured a time of God's seeming absence. He explins the lessons God was teaching him during this time. God freed him from being impressed by external things like successes and praise. He also indicates that he gained a deep awareness that he could not control God. Secondly, he indicates that he was freed from dependence upon interior results. I think this could partly be described like this: when stripped of the sense that we have prayed well, communed with God well, worshipped well, etc., and when our hearts are fraught with doubts of God's presence or goodness or even of his existence, we are left with nothing but pure faith in God. Everything else is stripped away and we must choose, again and again, it seems, to believe in God and who HE has said he is, rather than anything we have made of him.

It is a dangerous time, bscause we can easily sink into despair or abandon the search for God all together. It seems to me that these are the times when we must consciously recount God's work in our lives and the lives of others most carefully.

In the Dark

       Chapter 2 of Richard Foster's book, Prayer, is titled "Prayer of the Forsaken". It begins with a thorough description of the near-universal experience of Christians: when God is silent. He recounts the many names saints have given to this difficulty: "the desert", "the dark night of the soul", "the cloud of unkowing", and "the withering winds of God's hiddenness".

The withering winds description especially resonates. It feels like the longer it goes on, the dryer I feel. I know God is there. I know he hears and cares and is working. But in those times when it seems his guidance, his comfort, even his presence are lacking, knowing isn't very encouraging.

Foster then reminds the reader that this experience is, in fact, "a major highway" which many have travelled before us. It is part of the pilgrim's path, and we should both expect and embrace it. It is easier to say than it is to do.

"Counsels Along the Way"

 Foster's first chapter in his book on prayer concludes with some advice and a word of hope. The advice comes in five thoughts, which I will summarize here:

1. "...prayer is nothing more than an ongoing and growing relationship with God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit." It is about loving him.
2. We should never be discouraged that we are not praying more. Desiring prayer is itself a type of prayer. Hard hearts will be softened slowly by prayer.
3. We shouldn't try too hard to pray. We aren't ready for it yet, any more than a weekend jogger is ready for a marathon.
4. We should pray even when in times of struggle with sin - bring the struggle itself to God.
5. Don't seek eventful (perhaps he means also emotional) prayer experiences in the beginning. Be content to rest in the Father's arms.

My reflections on these points: I struggle with the first one. My feelings are quite muted because of the medication I have to take. It is hard for me to feel love or joy or delight. I understand what he is saying about discouragement. And I wonder if my recent longing for more prayer, and this effort in journaling, isn't his way of drawing me more into prayer. Even as I type, I feel as if I'm praying this over with him.

I am so guilty of number 3. I try to bite off too much at once and then I can't keep it up because of life's demands, so I feel discouraged and guilty and just quit. I am also guilty of number 5. I long to FEEL God's presence in prayer and so strive for that, pleading, or trying to get it just right. And then get discouraged, believing that I have done something wrong or missed some crucial step. 

The final section of the chapter is, to me, a word of hope. There is real danger in Simple Prayer, as we can become so self centered. But he indicates that as we continue in even this most basic of prayers, God begins to shift our hearts so that he is at the center, rather than myself. I do feel like I need a week or so of practice in this type of prayer. I need to pour out my honest thoughts and feelings to God more routinely and more fully. And I need to simply rest, like a child, in knowing that he is there, even if I don't have a sense of it. 

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.