The concept of prayer has always been loaded for me.
Prayer-time. Prayer-life. Prayer-meeting. Prayer-circles.
All of these phrases, at one time, were present in my vernacular. Prayer was an obligation and a commitment- something to check off the list of, “to-do’s”. There was a right way to do it- although, no one really agreed on what that was. Prayer in the morning for, “quiet time”? Prayers before bed? In what order? Praise, confession, repentance, supplication?
It seems most iterations were acceptable, but they all had one message in common: Do NOT use prayer in the same way Aladdin uses the Genie for wishes. Prayer was not for selfish gain; God is not Santa. It was a sacred and holy practice meant to honor the God I SERVED, not expect to be the one served.
Except, there was a confusing caveat that always threw a wrench in it. A welcome, lovely wrench. For some reason, if we followed protocol- if we did all the things in the correct order like asking for forgiveness for coveting so-and-so’s Polo Sport bag on the bus in the 7th grade- and we REALLY meant it, it might not be too selfish to throw in a request or two.
I am a creature of habit and lover of ritual- it’s both my nature and my OCD. The prayer protocol was never hard for me to follow and so I always got around to asking for a few things at the end of every session, thinking I, “earned it” by being so faithful and thoughtful in my prayer life.
So, when I was in my late thirties after having left the church and basically abandoned all of the practices connected to it, I found myself wondering why, after all this space to get to know myself free from systems and structures, I felt like I don’t know myself at all?
The answer didn’t occur to me until very recently, as I slowly meandered back into meditative practices that once felt forbidden, but now feel life-giving. Much like prayer used to.
Probably because they’re the same thing.
I’m not sure who decided it was sinful to ask God for stuff and then deliver confusing theology about him being a good Father who gives good gifts within the same Sunday School lesson, but I hope wherever that lady is she found some sort of peace. Against all odds and without my knowledge or true understanding, prayer provided an opportunity for daily reflection and personal affirmation before I had the language for what that was.
Every day, I dedicated an amount of time to processing how the day went and how I’d like it to go differently tomorrow. My fears, hopes, and dreams were all poured out in a steady stream- with the belief that God would fix it all; if only I prayed hard enough, of course. But I wasn’t cognizant of the rest of it.
God never really fixed anything because I was a stellar prayer-warrior. But what DID happen, was that I heard myself over and over say aloud the things I WANTED and the things I didn’t. I wasn’t really cognizant of how I spent my entire life building a practice that reaffirmed my identity, validated my worth, grounded my being, and connected me to myself. I affirmed my own desires, longings, goals, and ambitions to myself every single day. It was a powerful affirmation tool. And then, it was gone.
And knowing who I was, gone with it.
Until I started going to therapy. Until I began listening to meditation and somatic teachers about self-compassion and embodiment. Until I stopped defaulting to everyone else’s voices and began to prioritize my own. And realized, I have ALWAYS known how to do this. How to center and regulate myself. I have always had these tools. I was just taught that they were wrong.
Reframing the Genie-God concept has been so healing for me. Reclaiming what I want has been life-giving. Placing my hand on my own heart every morning and whispering, “I promise to take care of you” is what I’ve always longed to hear- I was just waiting for someone else’s voice from the sky to say it.
It pains me to think of all of the reasons why I would have been taught that using prayer to express my wanting was wrong- was it a ploy to prevent me from growing? Was it to keep me from gaining independence? Was it driven out of love for protection purposes? Out of fear of my eternal life? Does the “C”hurch not want its people to truly know themselves, because then they would be more difficult to coerce?
I think the answers are all of them and none of them- and can’t be used as a blanket to project.
Prayer has returned to my life in a way that feels ancient and new. It’s no longer what it was, and carried threads of whispers of history all at the same time. Sometimes it’s meditation. Sometimes it’s a cup of coffee. Sometimes it’s standing outside on my back porch and watching the brook. Sometimes, it’s Andrea Gibson’s poetry.
I dream out loud. I want so many things. I ask for them now.
Things that are Nourishing Right Now:
Tara Brach’s The RAIN of Self-Compassion- I needed this. Maybe you do, too.
Pinch of Yum’s Crunchy Kale Salad is saving my life right now for desk lunches. Add grilled chicken, avocado and cucumbers for a main meal.
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Andrea Gibson’s, “You Better Be Lightning” is the only poetry book that after I finished it, I went right back to the first page to start all over again.
I want to be Adriane Maree Brown’s friend. This episode on, “Why Are We Never Satisfied?” was so eye-opening.
The Maid by Nita Prose was quirky, thought-provoking and highly entertaining. I thought it was brilliant. See for yourself.
This is 🔥