The other day, I was sitting outside on the patio of a deli near my school, enjoying the fresh, warm air, eating my favorite salad, drinking tea and soaking in the glory of being almost done with my Junior year of college. That's when it happened. Two tattooed women came out to the table next to me, lit up their cigarettes and talked quite loudly about getting laid and how much they love their grand kids (in the same conversation). It was honestly the weirdest conversation I've ever been a witness to. What I didn't realize at that moment was that I had instantly started judging them. I was annoyed with them the moment they came through the door and that made me even more judgmental of their conversation, the way they looked, and the smoke that was blowing in my direction.
I'm ashamed to say that I was so annoyed that it made me angry when one woman took out her journal and began to talk about what God was doing in her life. She then began talking about people that I love to read: Richard Foster, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and Thomas Keating. What distress I was in!! Cringing as I heard these men discussed by two women who clearly weren't in any position to appreciate them.
It was only after they left and I had thoroughly discounted them did I realize what had just occurred I had just been counted among the Pharisees. In Luke 7, Jesus is dining with some Pharisees when a woman entered the house, broke a flask of perfume, and washed His feet. The Pharisees were so offended. All they saw was wasted perfume and a woman who was not worthy of love, respect, or their company. They were judgmental of her actions because they had already decided that she was not worthy to appreciate the value of the perfume that she had so foolishly disposed of.
In that moment, I did the same thing. I discounted those women as unworthy and clearly not capable of seeing the value of these people they were talking about. In a sense, I had taken it upon myself to deem them not worthy of the Savior's love. Now, I don't know their hearts. I don't know how much or what parts of their conversation was genuine. But who am I to judge that? At what point did I stop loving people and start condemning them? When did this sense of religion take over my life to the point that I stopped valuing people? As Christians, we have thrown too many stones and it's time for us to go back to the basics of what Jesus taught and truly love and value those around us instead of pretending like we are better than them while silently condemning them.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Monday, April 1, 2013
A Dangerous Prayer
Have you ever heard of a dangerous prayer? It's the type of prayer that many Christians warn you about. The kind of prayer that won't just rock your boat, but will capsize you and threaten to drown you. The Book of Common Prayer contains a prayer like that. It's called "The Franciscan Blessing." When I chose to start praying this blessing every day, I was not prepared for the effect it would have on my life.
The prayer goes like this,
People have cautioned me to be careful when I pray prayers for anger at injustice or for the Lord to "break my heart for what breaks His." But I've found that I want that. As painful as it may be, it will be worth it if it will bring me closer to the Lord's heart.
I think that this prayer is like a rainstorm. The first stage, the discomfort, is like the thick, heavy sky that you see before it rains. You walk outside and you can practically taste the moisture in the air and everything feels electric around you. I always love the refreshing moment when it actually begins to rain, but there is something exhilarating that I love about that period before the rain comes, when the sky is churning and ready to burst. You know it's coming, it's just a matter of when.
The second stage, the anger, comes when the sky lets loose its torrent of water. A rainstorm can be one of the most powerful forces on the earth, taking down everything in its path, washing away clutter and dirt and exposing things that haven't been seen for years. Sometimes, the most powerful storms last only a few moments and then are gone, but they leave such an impact that they affect the world for years after.
The third stage is the period after it rains; the childlike foolishness to believe that you can make a difference. You see the rainbow, a sign of hope, and you believe that you can do the impossible. There's nothing so hopeful and clean as the smell right after it rains. The moment when you know the world has been washed clean and you know that the doubters must be silent for a time. The sun comes out and you dance in its rays while leftover drops of rain spray from under your rain boots.
None of these stages lasts forever. They come and go. Sometimes they're stronger than others. Sometimes you don't notice they happen until they're gone and sometimes they're so strong that it takes every ounce of your energy to stay upright against the surge. So, to answer all those people who say this is a dangerous prayer to pray; I say, "Let the storm come!"
The prayer goes like this,
"May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships so that you may live deep within your heart.
May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may wish for justice, freedom and peace.
May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in this world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done."This prayer asks God for three distinctly different things: discomfort, righteous anger, and childlike foolishness. God seems to be taking His answer to this prayer in three stages as well. He's has begun by giving me a discomfort at my apathy and superficiality. He is stirring things deep inside me that I didn't know still existed. He is bringing areas to my attention where I have accepted these half-truths and easy answers and dismissed them as unimportant. I feel things shifting in my life. My paradigm and view of what is important is changing. As terrifying as that is, I can't wait to see what this new light brings.
People have cautioned me to be careful when I pray prayers for anger at injustice or for the Lord to "break my heart for what breaks His." But I've found that I want that. As painful as it may be, it will be worth it if it will bring me closer to the Lord's heart.
I think that this prayer is like a rainstorm. The first stage, the discomfort, is like the thick, heavy sky that you see before it rains. You walk outside and you can practically taste the moisture in the air and everything feels electric around you. I always love the refreshing moment when it actually begins to rain, but there is something exhilarating that I love about that period before the rain comes, when the sky is churning and ready to burst. You know it's coming, it's just a matter of when.
The second stage, the anger, comes when the sky lets loose its torrent of water. A rainstorm can be one of the most powerful forces on the earth, taking down everything in its path, washing away clutter and dirt and exposing things that haven't been seen for years. Sometimes, the most powerful storms last only a few moments and then are gone, but they leave such an impact that they affect the world for years after.
The third stage is the period after it rains; the childlike foolishness to believe that you can make a difference. You see the rainbow, a sign of hope, and you believe that you can do the impossible. There's nothing so hopeful and clean as the smell right after it rains. The moment when you know the world has been washed clean and you know that the doubters must be silent for a time. The sun comes out and you dance in its rays while leftover drops of rain spray from under your rain boots.
None of these stages lasts forever. They come and go. Sometimes they're stronger than others. Sometimes you don't notice they happen until they're gone and sometimes they're so strong that it takes every ounce of your energy to stay upright against the surge. So, to answer all those people who say this is a dangerous prayer to pray; I say, "Let the storm come!"
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)