So often people get wrapped up in what praying is supposed to be, how we are supposed to do it, and all the trimmings of a spiritual life that paralyze us into distance from God rather than nearness. I love the end of Psalm 73 when the psalmist declares, “The nearness of God is my good.” It’s so true.
I, certainly treasure and bless those rare moments, or sporadic seasons in our lives when we sense God’s presence in a new way – whether it’s through a heightened weightiness, or a simple revelation of the Divine, or newly revealed truth. And yet, we get caught up in the how to’s, the how not to’s, and our own weirdness that keep us from drawing near, that keep us from talking to God and going towards him, expecting him to respond in kind.
Recently, I’ve stumbled upon the poetry of Mary Oliver. Actually, recently, I’ve stumbled upon poetry. I used to hate reading poems … now, I wonder if there’s any other way to read and communicate truth. Here’s one of the poems I’ve been meditating on.
It’s called Praying by Mary Oliver found in her book, THIRST
“It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lost, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.” (37)
And in that silence, when we hear the other voice speak … that’s the nearness, that’s the longing, that’s what we were born to hear.
Much love,
Tina
