Erin, I said something like that on Former Leader’s post. Kinda neat, we’re not that far from the Spirit even now.
Pam, we grok.
Peggy, hadn’t thought of that — weird. I can only figure it has to do with the litany of many-worded prayers and the push to “praying up a storm” that comes from the evangelical charismania that I’ve known. To pray is holy, to pray longer is holier, to pray more… you get the idea. Except we get bored easily and come up with “tricks” and lists to keep our words flowing for the full hour. Never figured out that Isn’t quite what God was after all along!

Being almost 100% extrovert, just being quiet and listening more to others feels like the beginning of prayer–listen to another–whether it is a person-in-the flesh or our ever-present companion-God.

I just finished reading Peterson’s “Eat This Book” and so I am pondering prayer in a new light…but I still find that 25 years of Fosdick’s “The Meaning of Prayer”, with its beautiful prayers culled through the ages, he a good exercise every other year.

More often, I find prayer a kind of running conversation with God–one with plenty of silence as we both are doing a lot of observing these days.

Thoughtful post, Brother.

AbiSomeone ;)

A lot of it includes a rejection of prayer-formula theology — you know, the idea that if we pray just right, God will fill the order. Mostly, I see that as magic, a kind of Christian witchcraft, where God is so small as to be commanded by our whims… if we get the formula right.

Preach it up, bro. Pagans often liken their spellcraft to prayercraft. That’s something to think about.

I too have come to discover the beauty of faith stripped down in the desert, stripped of language or visitation. I’ve been in my wilderness for three summers now. It freaked me out for a while, to go from hearing God on a regular basis to nada was just a bit jolting. I have now since discovered the power and commonness of these spiritual deserts. The recent articles about Mother Theresa are a classic example of how many of us, if not most of us, struggle inwardly with feeling God or hearing God, with believing He is.

Words help me believe alot. When God speaks to me, and certainly when I speak to him in the language of prayer, these practices help immensely. But when my words evaporate, what then will my faith anchor itself to?

I find that it is God himself who becomes the anchor of my faith. Not words, nor spiritual disciplines, which, honestly, can breed arrogance and spiritual pompousness in a heartbeat. It is the grace and mercy of God, his benevolent nature that my faith finds it’s way towards.

I have no faith in me nor the spiritual activity I am capable of producing.