Lord, Teach Me To Pray
I grew up in a devout Catholic family, and I remember with great fondness the day I received my first rosary. It was a gift from my mother in celebration of taking my first holy communion. I was seven, the rosary was made of clear and sparkling beads, and the gift made it official. I could now pray to God. Not that I couldn’t or didn’t pray before that, but this was a big deal!
I no longer only had the Our Fathers and Hail Marys, memorized in catechism classes, at my disposal. Now I had the real deal, I thought…the tools…to pray those prayers in an official manner.
Pieces of Prayer by James Crossman
That night, I knelt beside my bed, just like I had watched my mother do countless times. I kissed the crucifix, made the sign of the cross, and began my little girl mumblings. “Our Father, which art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name.” I didn’t get very far into my recitative prayers, however, before my mind was wandering and my words were interrupted with silent questions. “Our Father…(does that include that mean Andy Hopkins or are you just the Father of the nice people?)…which art in heaven (are you really locked away up there, ’cause I would like you to visit down here sometimes)… hallowed be thy name (so, it’s okay if I don’t always call you God? I like Hallowed better). By the time I got through the first Our Father, my knees hurt, I was getting sleepy, and I was quite certain I was doing this prayer thing all wrong. It was much harder than my mother made it look. I promised Hallowed I would try again later.
Thus began my life long journey of practicing, learning, understanding, not understanding, being amazed, being frustrated, doubting and believing in prayer.
I worked hard as a child to memorize certain prayers to “get it just right”. Rote memorization and mindless chanting became the norm for me. I would dutifully bow my head at dinner and say, “Bless us, oh, Lord, and these, thy gifts, which we are about to receive. From thy bounty, through Christ, our Lord. Amen.” My parents seemed to approve and confirmed that I was on the right track. I would go to confession and then dutifully recite the recipe for forgiveness prescribed by Father Flannigan: Five Our Fathers and three Hail Marys. For the most part, I became very good at it, always sticking to my “scripts”.
Somewhere along the way, the belief began to form in my mind that knowing the right words, saying them at the right time, and arranging them in the right order somehow made the prayers holy, pleasing and acceptable to God.
Sometimes, even today, I find it much easier to “study” prayer, rather than to actually pray. I can get caught up in reading books on how to pray, studying the scriptures to learn how Jesus prayed, searching for sermons to listen to, and asking spiritual mentor’s advice. I fall back into the mode of structuring my prayers just right to keep myself focused and to prevent, heaven forbid, leaving anything out that I should be praying about. I’ve followed the prescription of the The Lord’s prayer which Jesus gave the disciples when they begged him, “Lord, teach us to pray.” I’ve used the acronym ACTS (Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, Supplication) as a template for the order of my prayers, etc., etc., etc. I’ve set timers, made lists, and joined groups. Why? Because often the idea of prayer, or dare I say, “idol” of prayer, comes more easily than actual prayer. Or as a close friend put it recently:
I find that I often fantasize about great prayer more than I actually seek it. It’s safer that way.”
In Hebrews we read: “Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.” Sometimes that is easier said than done.
How about you?
What rituals do you have in prayer – do they help or hinder and why?
Which is easier for you, prayer or thinking about what to pray?
Are you able to approach the throne of grace with confidence, or do you have more fear and trembling?
Previously: The Truth Project
Next up: Vulnerability: The Heart of Authentic Prayer.
Thank you to James Crossman for the permission to use his photograph above entitled Pieces of Prayer.
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