A Praying Life: Connecting With God in a Distracting World
Paul Miller
NavPress (2009)
Paper: 288 pps

A Praying Life is premised upon something I believe is true: most Christians feel inadequate about praying because we are perfectionists about the process.

We seek perfect prayer rather than a relationship with our Creator.

Paul Miller writes simply and from the heart about prayer. His own vulnerability makes his writing accessible. He shares about challenges he has faced in his own life, including having a special needs daughter. He admits that even pastors can be distracted and imperfect in their prayer lives.

This book definitely encourages readers to stop worrying about prayer and just pray. In fact, more than once, I saw myself in its pages and stopped to pray “God, this is so me.  Please help me get over myself and get more real with you…”

I love the structure of the Daily Office, but it’s important to pray spontaneously as well. I normally don’t pray out loud, other than in my car (and then I feel free to get pretty loud, especially if I’m angry or sad) and Miller’s book has helped me fit more moments of silent, spontaneous prayer into my life, whether it be while working out at the gym or even while using a restroom.

If you want to have a freer, more spontaneous, conversational relationship with God, I recommend this book. If you’re afraid to have a freer, more spontaneous, conversational relationship with God, I especially recommend this book.

How to be a Monastic and Not Leave Your Day Job:
An Invitation to Oblate Life

Brother Benet Tvedten
Paraclete Press (2006)
Paper: 119 pps.

I’ve loved the Benedictine tradition since stepping into the Abbey of Gethsemane in Kentucky almost a decade ago. Something deep within my soul said, “this fits.” I knew nothing about monastic traditions at the time.

The Daily Office, The Rule of St. Benedict….no idea.

I’ll always be thankful that my introduction to monasticism was observing the monks at that monastery.  My first feeling was one of being welcomed with genuine love. A monk sits at a desk in the main hall greeting visitors. When you enter and he simply says, “Welcome. Would it be helpful for you to receive spiritual assistance during your time here?”

If your response is, “No, thank you,” he hands you your key he and says, “Then may you find within these walls all that you need from the God who already knows.” I’ve wanted that tattooed on my face since the first time I heard it.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the monastery this week probably because I’m long overdue for a visit. Tonight, as I was atoning for my carb sins of the day on the treadmill (totally worth it), I read How to be a Monastic and Not Leave Your Day Job. Great book. Living in the moment enhances our spiritual lives.

Monasteries are the Gold Standard of intentional community when it comes to living in the moment. When they’re called to pray they pray. When they’re called to work they work. Wherever they are — they’re all there. Oh, I’m sure their minds wander and they have bad days too, but overall, they’re giving all of who they are to what they’re called to be right this moment. God is interested in my obedience right now. St. Benedict says, “The Lord calls out to us daily. Persevere wherever you are by embracing the routine of your daily life. This is how you find God now.”

I don’t know what God has for me 10 years from now or if I’ll even be here. I do know that God is calling me to walk with him, to give him these moments, and to trust him with today. I really believe Jesus managed to keep his eyes on the cross and on the events of daily life simultaneously.

Maybe the secret of a fulfilling life with God is keeping all this in balance. I’m going to start looking for more ways in my day to point people to “the answer” without trying to be one. And then as I leave the situation pray, “God may they find all that they need from you who already knows.” Freeing.

The idea of “obedience” is something convents and monasteries seem very good at acknowledging, whereas the rest of the world does not. The image of a strict Mother Superior is a caricature Hollywood has had a field day with. And there is more than a grain of truth in the image, since we read in the Rule of St. Benedict that the Abbess should:

“…always bear in mind that at the dread Judgment of God, there will be an examination of two matters: her teaching and the obedience of her disciples.” (RB 2:6)

When I was elected about three years ago to the position of Abbess of the Urban Abbey, the northern Virginia group that launched our own Virtual Abbey, I’d already been a community member for several years. The “obedience” idea had never concerned me.

I understood that the title Abbott or Abbess was taken from the word Abba, or Father because this position was that of Christ in and to the community. I knew I was being asked to “obey” the leader because it would help me learn obedience to God.

This I understood intellectually. Obedience was not a matter of great concern while I was a member. On the day of my induction as Abbess, when the community members knelt at my feet (yes, hard to believe, but that’s what the tradition called for) and promised to “obey” me, I was so overcome and humbled that I wondered what in the world I had gotten myself into.

How was I, a flawed and ordinary human being, supposed to represent Christ to this group? How could I truly live up to the expectations the community had for me in this position? It was beyond humbling and I had serious doubts about this idea of obedience, wondering if maybe this was one aspect of monasticism that we modern monastics could do without.

While the Rule of  St. Benedict calls for the leader of a monastic community to be “obeyed” by the community members, it does not allow that leader to be a dictator. The Rule  instructs the Abbess or Abbott to call the community together for counsel whenever a decision must be made because, “The Lord often reveals to the youngest what is best.” (RB 3:1-4).

Members of a monastic community are called to see Christ in their leader because they are called to see Christ in every person, not just the Abbess or Abbott. The Rule (RB 5) makes this very clear. Practicing obedience to the leader is a way to learn how to do this. As Jesus the Christ himself taught, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it unto one of the least of these you did it to me.” (Matthew 25:40)

So, while the idea of obeying another flawed human being, and seeing God in that person, might seem quaint and potentially outdated, it turns out to be one of the most challenging ideas we might ever encounter.

The Liturgical Year:
The Spiraling Adventure of the Spiritual Life

Joan Chittister, OSB
Thomas Nelson (2009)
Paper: 229 pps.

There are years to mark every stage of life, from childhood to old age. And in the center of them all, unchanged for centuries is the liturgical calendar. Beginning at Advent and rolling through the following November, the churches liturgical year represents nothing less than the life of Jesus Christ – he whose life and attitudes Christians strives to emulate. It proposes, year after year, to immerse us repeatedly into the sense and substance of the Christian life, until, eventually, we become what we say we are: followers of Jesus all the way to the heart of God.

Joan Chittister, a long time Benedictine nun, presents a work about the Liturgical Year that’s heartfelt, honest, easy-to-read and even easier to apply to everyday life.

We’ve recently stepped from Ash Wednesday, Lent and through Holy Week into the Easter season.  We’ve walked where Jesus walked. We remembered his death and hopefully strengthened our resolve to live faithfully for him.  The church calendar runs all year but for me, I’m closest to the heart of Christ during the Easter season.

This is the first year I’ve experienced Lent and Easter in a liturgical church.  The symbolism, ancient traditions and practices are changing my life in ways I’ve yet to process.  I’m glad this book by fell into my lap during this season.  I’m finding the subtitle to be true: the spiraling adventure of the spiritual life.

The Liturgical Year  is a beautiful reminder that by following and acknowledging the liturgical calender, we live in sync with the Church and her people.  So many things in life we prepare for, accomplish, and discard.  I love that the liturgical year never ends.  Every year we join the rest of the Church to stand at this time, in this moment, to worship God.  It may be an “important” time like Advent or Lent or Easter, but it also may just be a regular Sunday when, falling in step with routine, we find that even in the ordinary moments we can be changed.

The liturgical year is an adventure in bringing the Christian life to fullness, the heart to alert, the soul to focus. It does not concern itself with the questions of how to make a living. It concerns itself with the questions of how to make a life.

(John 20:18)

Christ is Risen! He is Risen Indeed!

Image: Giovanni Savoldo (16th c.)

“A new commandment I give to you,
that you love one another,
even as I have loved you . . .”
(John 13:34)

Image: Duccio di Boninsegna, The Maesta, high altar, 1308-11, The Last Supper

Image: “The Entry of Christ into Jerusalem” mosaic in Palermo, Italy (c. 115)

I thank God that prayer times and actual prayers for the Daily Office are more-rather-than-less set. I need this framework when my mind is bouncing around in my brain which, in turn, is oscillating in my skull. Last Friday was one of those days. In case you don’t follow my hysterical (as in crazed rather than hilarious) tweets, here’s the backstory.

On April 8, my accountant of 26 years had a major meltdown about tax info I’d provided at the beginning of February. He’s always been a bit “edgy,” but this explosion was way out of the normal zone.  My blood literally ran cold when said he was sending back my stuff. “You live in Maryland now, get an accountant there.”  (Note: This is a very cleaned up version.)

So what does this have to do with prayer?

It was 11:45 am by the time I finished my crying jag. Did I want to tweet Sext at 12:15? Nope. Did I do it anyway? Yep. And while I didn’t tweet “LOL” while leading prayer, that’s what happened when I realized Psalm 17: 1-9 was part of the Midday Service.

And so, it was with no shortage of amazement and eye-rolling that I tweeted:

As for the deeds of men — by the words of your lips I have kept myself from the ways of the violent.

Can’t make this stuff up. Thanks be to God.