Day 80

Death always takes us by surprise. Even after a long sickbed, when we had time to reflect about the dreaded hour to come, most people will still have that “cheated out of life” feeling.

Henry Nouwen once wrote that one of our great difficulties in dealing with life’s realities is that we live under the illusion of immortality.

Take modern society as an example. The stuff that sell the most, are the kinds that promise to keep us young and pretty.

Or how about Mainstream Religion? From all walks of life Religion tends to take us out of here, focusing the eternal life to come, never really dealing with the common, everyday realities that this life has to offer as a gift and not a curse.

So we end up living and praying as if life will go on forever. As if sickness and difficulties will never cross our or our love ones’ paths.

But this is just an illusion.

We have to move beyond this way of living.

For Nouwen this move meant prayer.

To pray is to realise your own mortality, your own vulnerability and your desperate need for community, friendship and intimacy.

But Nouwen was not referring to bed side prayers and the endless list of wants and needs we communicate to God under the banner of Faith and Prayer.

He was talking about a life constantly engaged with God. Not just talking, but really listening to the inner voice of the Big Spirit who dwells in all of us, being guided by God’s voice instead up being tossed around by all the other voices screaming in cacophonic chaos from the top church pulpits, bill boards, magazine covers and Hollywood illusions.

Then, when death happens we might find the grace to embrace it as part of the trickiness of Life going through the motions.

Day 52

One of the first prayers I was taught as kid was a prayer to say grace at the table. Part of it was to ask God to be with “those less fortunate” while we are being blessed with lots to eat.

The prayer stuck.

It got under my skin and I never seemed able to shake it off. Every meal, no matter how simple of decadent the contradiction or that prayer keeps coming back. While may plate is full, others’ has been empty for days.

That’s the problem with talking about eating while living in Africa. Too many people struggling, too many hungry, too many dying while the rest of us are queuing up for seconds.

The same contradiction is found in the life of Jesus. One of the first stories told of his colourful life, involves a wedding and 2400 glasses of award winning wine.
It’s a story overflowing with abundance and decadence.

But just as quickly as he turns water into wine for the young and hopeful, so does he feed the crowds of hungry people drawn to his message of Good News.

The one night he parties with a mafia boss, the next day he asks a rich man to sell all of his possessions, give the money to the poor and follow the signposts of the Kingdom of God.

The Way of Jesus:

A blessing and a burden

An invitation to feast and a call to follow

A prayer of a young boy at a dinner table asking God to be with the less fortunate...

Day 46

I am away for the weekend with a few friends.

Out on a farm, into the wild.

Horse riding, flyfishing, mountain biking and your general weekend lazyness.

Enough beer and wine to keep the spirits high.

Good food, tons of humour, loads of fun.

Life.

It’s waiting outside your closet.

Say your prayers.

Finish your Amens.

Then go out and grab it.

Day 42

Jesus and his friends were having a discussion on prayer.

“The next time you try to pray, go into your closet.” Jesus told the rest.

“Go into your closet” I guess was Jerusalem slang for taking a time out. To go into your closet means to break away from the mundane, to escape your daily routine, to chill out on your own.
Your closet is your safe space, the place (physical or emotional) where you feel completely at ease. It can be anything: A favourite sofa in a sunny corner of the house, the back porch, underneath the big tree next to the compost heap, in the garage, knee deep in a trout river, a coffee spot close to work, the sauna of the gym or even the closet in the guestroom.

Mine is the kitchen. This is where I write, think, create, eat and love. From now on I’ll try to pray here as well.

But if you think of it, if prayer is the soul’s yearning to be in conversation with God, then to do this we need to slow down, we need to stop the craziness of life and retreat to our safe spaces.

There’s this great story of an ancient prophet who felt all the stress of being the voice of God in everyday life. In a cave, close to burn out, God spoke to him. Here's what happened according to an ancient story guru:

“A hurricane wind ripped through the mountains and shattered the rocks before God, but God wasn't to be found in the wind; after the wind an earthquake, but God wasn't in the earthquake; and after the earthquake fire, but God wasn't in the fire; and after the fire a gentle and quiet whisper.” 1 Kings 19

When I am honest about my struggle with prayer I need to confess that I’ve been waiting for the winds, earthquakes and fires of life to be the voices of God in my own life. On yesterdays post, Harold made a comment about expectations and prayer. He hit the nail right on the head. I was expecting a voice that can shout over and above the loudness of (my) life.

But then God comes and speaks with a gentle and quite whisper.

No wonder I need to go into the closet.

Day 41

Let’s talk about prayer.

First a confession:

I don’t pray. (When I write it down like that, it really does not look good.)

But let me explain. I find it very difficult. I feel self-conscious when I pray. My doubts quickly get in the way. Half way in the prayer I start to question the images about God popping up. I think I need a good pop-up blocker the next time I try. When I pray my mind wanders and before I know it, I am busy buying groceries, writing my next post, thinking of the dogs, planting vegetables or planning our next holiday, all the while my brain switched to autopilot prayer mode.

Still there is a longing in me to pray.

This longing is not new. One of the old thinkers in the Christian faith said that our hearts are restless until we find our rest in God. He talked about a God-shaped gap that we drag along in life. God created us in such a way that we can’t help yearning for God.

I am not alone on this journey. I know there are others out there who struggle with prayer, but yearn for God.

That's why I am going to stick around this theme for a while, hoping (praying...) that a restless heart (and mind) will find peace.

Day 11

Still busy with the “throwing out” theme. Where do I start? What will the label on the first box of Christian kitsch be? How about “Guilt”?

Through the centuries the church perfected the art to turn guilt into faith, service, prayer and tithes. I used to feel guilty about almost every “do” and don’t” that I learnt in church. I should pray more, confess more, listen more, believe more and especially tithe more. I should sin less, doubt less and enjoy less.

Usually to great effect, guilt got me to do all those things.

Except love.

Love and guilt don’t sit around the same table. You cannot love out of a feeling of ought to or ought not to.

Out of guilt we can build houses, move mountains, feed thousands and pray like angels, but still it will amount to nothing.

Because love and guilt just don’t gel.

So I am wrapping up everything I have ever done, because I thought that that is what God expects from me. The list is long. It includes some big names such as The Bible, Prayer, Faith, Charity and Church.

No obligation, no expectation, just pure, honest, broken, vulnerable love.

“A box full of guilt”, sounds like something I should’ve chucked out a long time ago.

But here goes nothing...

Day 2

Outside the thunder is rolling, the winds are picking up speed and the clouds have turned everything gray. On days like this in ancient times, people believed that the gods are angry. Today we know better. Today we know that this is part of nature, no one is angry. It is just life going through growing pains.

But still we pray as if God is angry. Our prayers are filled with words of penitence, “I am so sorry” “Have mercy” “Please God forgive my sins”. Day in and day out, we plead and moan and cry. We go to church, synagogue, temple and mosque. We tithe and fast, confess and commit. We hope that we are wrong and fear that we are right, because somewhere deep in our souls the wounds of ancient superstitions are still sore, still oozing with toxic religiosity.

Somewhere in my struggle to submit to the demands of my religion I have lost Life. That’s what religion does, it sucks life out you. Instead of standing in awe of the thunder and the lightning, we run into our temples and pray to the gods for mercy.

The words from R.E.M’s “Losing my Religion” have been in my head the whole day. I got to let go of the fear. I got to let go of the superstition. To much guilt, I need a breath of Fresh Air.

It’s time to open the shutters.

It’s time to show religion the door.

It’s time to let Life in.