Why Pray?

photo by Michelle Bednash

"Instructions for life: 

Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it."

― Mary Oliver

“Here are the two best prayers I know: 

'Help me, help me, help me' and 'Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

― Anne Lamott

When I was child I intermittently attended my grandparents' Foursquare Gospel church. My grandpa was an usher and my nana was in the choir, so we always arrived early on Sunday morning. I can remember standing in the church kitchen watching my nana cut up white bread and pour tiny glasses of purple grape juice on communion Sundays. I remember the little hand-held counter my grandpa ticked off as people entered the sanctuary, trying to get an accurate count of worshipers. I remember my nana's choir robe and the hard candies my grandpa kept in his pocket for me and my sister.

There was a lot of talk about the Holy Spirit in that church, a lot of swaying with arms stretched Heavenward during worship services. People did not sit quietly listening to the preacher. They moaned and thanked Jesus a lot. It was rumored that some people had the gift of speaking in tongues which, frankly, was fascinating and a little creepy to me as a child. In fact the whole idea of the Holy Spirit suddenly possessing my body was both thrilling and terrifying. I stayed on my toes. As instructed by the minister, I was forever inviting Jesus into my heart. I kept waiting to feel some kind of sign that he was in there. Couldn't he RSVP so I would know he was coming? Nothing. I must have had the wrong address.

There were many things about that church that mystified and scared me as a child. (Don't get me started on the sermons I heard about the Apocalypse.) But there was one thing I learned there that really helped me: The power of prayer. One of my Sunday School teachers, an elderly woman whose name I've long since forgotten, taught me that prayer was nothing more than having a conversation with God. She said I could talk to God anywhere and that I could do it out loud or silently in my head. Well, this was great news to me. I had a lot to talk about with God. Mostly I had a lot of questions for him about why my parents were getting a divorce. I was prepared to cut deals with him too if he would do something about that.

I made a lot of deals with God and gave him lots of deadlines which he let pass without so much as a note. I knew he was busy, but was it too much to ask to have a return receipt so I would know he had at least heard my prayer? But the deals he wouldn't accept and the deadlines he let slip by weren't really that important. What saved me was just expressing my needs, my fears, my sadness. I was a shy kid. I kept a lot of feelings inside. Prayer, those ongoing (albeit one sided) conversations I had with God helped me articulate my feelings and gave me somewhere to put them. When I prayed I did not feel so alone. And when I sent my fear or sadness out there in the form of a prayer, it lost a little of its hold on me. It wasn't perfect, but prayer helped get me through some rough times as a kid.

I don't believe in God now, at least not the way I did as a child. Gone is the old man with the white beard who ignored my bribes, but saved me a little bit anyway. Today I am a seeker who is comfortable knowing I will probably find more questions than answers in this life, more mystery than certainty. I believe the journey is the important part. The destination is out of my hands. I still believe in the power of prayer but don't do it much anymore. I've been spending far too much time inside my needy, judgmental, controlling head of late. It's a nice place to visit, but I don't want to live there. It may be time to try prayer again.

Earlier today I thought of the serenity prayer used in twelve-step programs. It's a great prayer, one I should start every day with.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.

I don't think it really matters to whom or what you pray. For me, prayer is about letting my needs, my fears, my hopes, my desires out of that cramped, claustrophobic space inside my skull. It's about paying attention. It's about letting go. It's about admitting I'm not the boss of, well, anything. It's about asking for help. It's about saying thank you. It's about opening up to something bigger than myself. It's about allowing awe and wonder in. And ultimately it's about letting love in and sending love out.