I went to a professional meeting this weekend with Michael. Every session began and ended with prayer. I went to a church meeting last night that did not. I was struck dumb (not really) when I realized we did not pray. My friend Janet questioned me about why that mattered to me. For me, it is a way to set our intention. We are Christian believers. When we meet, whenever two or three or fifty or three thousand of us are gathered together for God’s sake, shouldn’t we ask for, plead for, expect the presence of the Holy One to be among us? And when we pray for God to be present, I am able to see God’s face in the faces of those who are around me... those who love me or not... those who are angry with me... those who agree with me and those who don’t... those whom I have hurt and those who have hurt me. It all melts away when I/we call God down on our heads. Incarnation becomes more than a sterile theological concept when I see the face of God in the faces that surround me.
My sneaky suspicion is that most of us do not really believe in the power of prayer. It is easier to believe in the power of the atom. This weekend I sat in a small group with a woman whose four year old child was healed she believes through prayer. Another woman, a teacher, assaulted three times by students, lost her memory and ability to walk, and believes she was healed because prayer helped her to forgive. Our worship committee chairs begin every meeting with a prayer-full time. It is carefully considered and planned. We are invited into holy space before we begin the work of worship. It sets the intention. What we are about is searching for ways to reveal the Holy every Sunday morning to somebody, not everybody, just somebody. To do that without inviting the presence of the Presence would be profane. Every worship will not be an earth shaking event for everybody but it would never be a spirit filled worship at all if we did not invite God to come to us in many different ways. If we want God to come be a part of our lives together and individually, we must pray. For me, prayer is not an optional activity.
I am reminded of the story of Pentecost. There they were, a rag tag group of students whose teacher had been executed by the state at the request of their home church. The city was full of tourists from all over the world speaking many different languages. They were gathered in a room having a business meeting, trying to decide which person would take the place of Judas as a disciple. They were down to two and couldn’t decide so they cast lots. Now as I understand it, casting lots is like my Bible game of opening the Book and pointing to a verse and seeing what words God sent to me. You participate in an act that seems to make no sense and trust the Divine to show up. God showed up and the Spirit, shaped like flames, rested on each of them. They were able to speak in languages they did not know and were understood by all of the different groups in town that day. I don’t know what really happened that day but I believe something special did happen. Believers in Jesus as the Son of God were able to transcend their limits of culture and language. Old memories and prejudices melted away in the fiery heat of the Presence. They were transformed into a new creation. An incarnation of their Beloved Teacher came to life that day long ago and the echoes of Pentecost still rock my soul.
I am praying for Pentecost for my beloved church community... that we might be able to speak and hear other languages so we might tell our stories and be understood... that we could hold each other in such high esteem that the anguish of one of us becomes painful for us all... that the differences become superficial as we see the face of God shining through the faces around us. Come Lord Jesus, come. I am weeping and my heart is broken. Let me be blown away by your Presence, blown into a new way of being, blown away from all that divides us and blown to your loving arms. Come now, Lord Jesus, come. Please?
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