Prayer, Trust and Churchianity

Lately I've been thinking about prayer—about the weird ideas we Churchians have developed about prayer, and about how they fit (or not) with our claim to trust God. I mean, we trust God, right? We know (stop me when I'm wrong) that he is all-powerful, all-knowing, loving, good, and basically smarter than we are. Right? He has a plan, and a place for each of us in that plan. And I have to assume that his plan is bigger and better than anything I could come up with¹. Anyone disagree yet?

So...why do we give him instructions?

We claim to trust God completely, and yet we feel a need to instruct him. To tell him how and when to meet our needs and wants. If you have any Churchians as Facebook friends, you see it all the time: "I had an interview today—pray that I get the job!" "Please pray that my cousin doesn't get deployed to Afghanistan". "Going to look at a new car—pray that we get it!" Hmmm. Well, what if that job isn't the place where God wants you? Do you still want me to ask him to put you there? What if God's plan for the world depends on your cousin being in Afghanistan? Is it OK if I ask for God's will to be done, or would you really rather have me ask him to do your will?

Doesn't make sense, does it?

Right now, I have a situation in my own life². There's this thing that I really want. From where I'm sitting, it looks like a thing that would be great for me and my family in several different ways. It totally seems to fit with God's plan (his plan as understood and interpreted by me, that is). It's a no-brainer: this is obviously a good thing and must be God's will for me. So. What do I do? Ask all my friends to pray that this thing happens like I want it to? Beg God endlessly myself? "Please God please God please God make this good thing happen"? In my past life as a Churchian, that's exactly what I would have done.

But...

Do I trust God, or not? Do I believe that he has a plan, and a place for me in that plan? Well, yes. I do. If this super great thing is actually a super great part of his super great plan, do I need to tell him to make it happen? Kind of ridiculous, isn't it? Me giving God instructions, like maybe he forgot what he was supposed to do next?

So then, what? Don't pray?

As a recovering Churchian, I'm tempted to fall back to my default setting of praying for my will instead of God's. But here's how I've been reminding myself to pray, about my current situation as well as other things that I want/need/worry about: "God, thank you that your plan is better than my plan. I give this situation to you. Please carry out your plan, and please make my will match up with yours."

Amen

1. His plan is better than mine. That doesn't always mean that I'll like it better, especially in the short term.
2. Nothing big, bad, or scary, I promise.

Are you "saved"?

"Saved"—one of our great Churchian phrases. It's great for defining who's in and who's out. It lets us categorize everyone as saved or unsaved and rest in the assurance that we who are saved are better than those who are not. But how can you tell who's saved? You don't always have access to the response cards¹ to see who checked which box, so there has to be some other measuring stick.

"You will know them by their fruit"²

We Churchians all know what that means, right? It means that you can tell who's in and who's out by how well they follow the rules, how often they go to church and what kinds of good deeds they do. Growing up in Churchian circles, I learned two Very Important Things: Jesus wants to give you the totally free gift of salvation; and there is a long list of rules you'll need to follow once you accept that totally free gift. Huh?

It's a classic bait-and-switch tactic:

Here's this free gift! Take it! We'll talk later about the monthly membership fees. And the lifestyle restrictions. And you'll probably need to take some classes to learn how to follow all the rules associated with this totally free, no-strings-attached gift. It'll be great!

Why can't we get more people to sign on for this deal?³

And the real question: why are we Churchians so invested in making up rules and complicating the simple gift Jesus offers?

Well...accepting charity is hard on the self-esteem. If we accept that Jesus really doesn't want or need anything from us, we have to come to terms with accepting his charity. Who wants to feel like they're in need of someone's help? Not me. I like to think that I'm pretty self-sufficient and have my, um, "stuff" together. Could that be why I've spent so many years being proud of my rule-following and good works? "Yeah, me and God, we're friends. He saved me and stuff because he needs me to follow all these rules and help him with things. Totally a give-and-take relationship."

Nope.

The truth is that we suck. I suck. I'm basically clueless, useless and not nice, and I need God. He doesn't need anything from me.

This is not a balanced relationship.

So then, what do we have to be all proud of ourselves about? We love this "us against them", "I'm OK and they're not" mentality that lets us feel like we're better than those poor unsaved saps. But it's pretty ridiculous, isn't it?

So, are you "saved"? Am I?

Well...I'd have to say I am in the process of being saved. Jesus is saving me from sin, from myself, and from Churchianity, but that process is nowhere near complete. "Getting saved"⁴ is not an event, when we step over a magical line separating the good guys from the bad guys. It's a process...a journey. So how about if we worry less about categorizing people and show some grace⁵ to people⁶, wherever they are on the road?

1. The documents many churches collect in order to compile statistics on people's spiritual progress.
2. Matthew 7:16
3. Not a real question, by the way.
4. Please...can we just stop using this phrase?
5. For examples of grace, read about Jesus.
6. Yes, even to fellow Churchians.

Riding public transportation is a little like going to the zoo

Right? Anyone who rides regularly knows what I'm talking about. There are all kinds of things to watch—some of the creatures do funny things, some are kind of icky, some are cute, some are fun to interact with, some smell weird, some are a little disturbing, and a few are even kind of scary. It's always interesting, though, and it can be educational. You know, broadening. A cultural experience. Me, venturing briefly out of my corner of the suburbs to watch other species live their lives.

When I first started riding the MAX regularly, I found all this all pretty entertaining. Kind of...compensation for the annoyance of being forced to share space with people I wouldn't particularly choose to share space with. I made a point of choosing a single seat whenever I could in order to minimize the space-sharing. I carefully focused my attention on my book, avoiding eye contact and discouraging conversation. I ignored other riders, except when I was amusing myself by posting the funny/rude/ignorant things they said on Facebook.

But then something happened

I've been a regular public transit rider for almost two years now, and something has changed. I've started to see these zoo exhibits as people. You know, human beings. People who are more like me than I'd like to admit. People who I could be if some of my circumstances were different. People who Jesus treasures.

Crazy, right?

I read Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz recently¹ (largely during my MAX commute) and I keep coming back to a thought from that book about loving people. Miller talks about learning to love someone he initially found incredibly obnoxious, and he talks about love as being delighted at this guy's existence. This is the phrase that comes to mind often during my commute these days. The loud-mouthed teenager with an apparently limited vocabulary? Jesus is delighted at her existence. The smelly homeless guy taking up three seats with his stuff? Jesus is delighted at his existence. That guy who insists on playing games on his iPad with the sound turned up, while using his earbuds for his music? Ahem². Jesus is delighted at his existence. And hey, that smug suburban mom judging people around her while commuting from her comfortable home to her cushy part-time job? Yeah. Jesus is delighted at my existence.

Whoa

Changes the way you think about things, right? This new way of thinking is pretty, well, new to me. I wouldn't say that it's led to any life-changing³ encounters, but it has led me to give someone a smile rather than an inner eye-roll. It's led me to engage people around me in conversation, and to treat them like human beings rather than zoo exhibits. You know, kind of like Jesus might be doing if he was riding the MAX.

1. Yeah, I'm years late in reading it. I don't think I was ready for it when it was new, though, so it all worked out.

2. Dude, SERIOUSLY.

3. Other people's lives, I mean. It's definitely changing MY life.

In progress...

Just so you know, I haven't abandoned this blog completely.  Thinking has just been such hard work that both thinking and writing seem like too much at the moment.  I'll be back soonish with a new post...

Thinking is hard work

Sometimes it hurts.  It's a lot easier to accept what you're taught without examining it.  Sometimes...I wish I could just take the blue pill and go back to sleep.  Back to a time when I didn't have all these questions.  But here's the thing: there is no Matrix.   In real life, once you know the red pill exists, the blue pill is powerless.  There's no going back—there's only pretending.  So the choice comes down to truth or willful denial.  Argh.

And not only that, but truth is so...elusive.  Anyone who thinks he knows all truth, that he is right about everything, is fooling himself.  Wouldn't it be great if there was a Sudoku, or a crossword, or a mathematical formula that, once solved, gave us the ability to correctly perceive truth?  Instead, we get to study and ponder and wonder, and eventually arrive at something that we can only hope is more true than not.

It's at this point that I start to make even myself nervous, sounding all agnostic and stuff.  After all, I was raised in church, so I know that agnostics are definitely going to hell.  The only people who escape are those who unquestioningly believe what they were taught in Sunday School, right?

But I can't help it—I have to wonder.  Why would God leave the answers to so many important questions open to interpretation?  Why wouldn't He just lay out the Sixteen Fundamentals of Faith in the Sermon on the Mount?  How can so many people sincerely study His Word so thoroughly and arrive at different conclusions?  Is it possible that He wants us to explore, and seek, and think, and even (gasp) question?

I know, I'm supposed to have “faith like a child”.  And honestly?  I think I do.  I trust God.  I trust that He knows me, and loves me, and is smarter than I am.  I trust that He is big enough to handle my questions, and that He wants me to know the truth.  I trust that He is an infinitely patient father, even when I am stuck in this annoying stage of constantly asking “why?”.  I trust that He will walk with me through this stage, and that better understanding waits for me on the other side of it.

Let's talk about church clothes

I feel like I should be doing a Christmas post, but I'm not. I apologize if you're disappointed, but instead I'd like to talk about the latest thing that's been rattling around in my head: why a special wardrobe is required to go to church.

Yes, a lot of churches are pretty casual these days.

Even my church shows a lot of denim on Sunday mornings, but as a lifelong Churchian and The Pastor's Wife, I just can't do it. And I've been thinking about why that is. In spite of all my talk about abandoning the rules and not worrying about judgment from my fellow Churchians, I have to admit: I'm a little afraid that someone might think thoughts if I wore jeans on a Sunday morning. So I don't. Even on the days that I really really want to¹.

So who cares? Does it matter what I wear to church?

Um, yes. Like it or not, what I wear says something about me. Some types of clothing are appropriate for certain situations and ridiculous elsewhere (swim suits and wedding dresses come to mind). There are some clothing items that I would argue are never appropriate anywhere (Crocs, obviously²). But what is appropriate for church? And what do I want my Sunday morning outfit to say?

Oh, and just who am I talking to through my clothes?

Great, just what I need: one more thing to overthink. But really, let's examine this for a minute. By insisting on “church clothes” for church, who am I dressing for? Am I dressing to impress the young mom who wants to check out this church thing but isn't sure it's for her? The one who sneaks in and sits in the back because she's not sure she's dressed right³? Well, no. I'm dressing to please the small minority of my fellow Churchians who still care about dressing up for church.

Remember: church is weird.

For people who didn't grow up as Churchians, going to church can be weird and scary. It's like trying to integrate into an unfamiliar foreign culture. So why throw up one more obstacle for people who are new to church? Why make them feel like they have to buy a new wardrobe first? I can't speak from a man's perspective, since I've never been one, but I guarantee that for a woman—feeling like you don't have the right clothes could absolutely keep you away from church.

Great. Something else I have to face.

Now that I've thought through the reasons for my church clothes, I'm going to have to face this lingering bit of fear of what Churchians think of me. I don't have any illusions that what I, personally, wear to church will set the tone for who we are as a church and throw our doors open in welcome to our community. But maybe...maybe...seeing The Pastor's Wife in jeans will reassure that young mom in the back that her clothes are fine. And maybe it will help me remember why I'm there, and who I'm trying to impress. Maybe.

1. Just to be clear, I have no hang-up at all with anyone other than myself wearing jeans to church. Ten years ago? Yes. But I'm way over it now.

2. I'm kidding, of course. That's just a really funny joke.

3. Men reading this may not be tracking, but trust me: women think about this stuff a lot.

What is Prayer, Anyway?

We've established that it's not a mystical force to be idolized, but what IS it? How do you do it right?

Ask a Churchian:

They might tell you what they have been taught—that prayer is talking to God. It is, but we Churchians can't let anything be that simple. We know that to do it right, you need to close your eyes when you talk to God. It's also preferable to use Biblical-sounding language and to follow a formula based on the Lord's Prayer, or possibly the ABCs of Prayer. And you should be aware that prayer doesn't really count unless you do it early in the morning or at a specially designated prayer meeting. As a matter of fact, since the process is extremely complicated and requires skill and concentration, it may be advisable to take a class on prayer (or at a minimum, read a couple of books on the topic) before attempting it.

Given all these factors, is it surprising that many Churchians have decided that prayer is best left to the professionals? Instead of attempting their own amateur prayers, they instead submit their “prayer requests” to the pastor and “prayer team”.

A classic case of unintended consequences

The intent in holding classes and writing books on prayer, obviously, was to help people pray more. I suspect that instead, the message many Churchians have received is that they shouldn't bother with prayer unless they can do it right. Just talking to God and trying to listen to Him? That doesn't count.

What we like to call “the right way”*:

Can we agree that the purpose of prayer is communicating with God? Think about how you communicate with someone you're close to:

1. You talk to them when you have something to say—you have a need, or a feeling you want to share, or just something you want them to know. You probably don't have designated “communication time” or “communication meetings”. Or maybe you do—but communication with that person is not restricted only to those times.
2. You sound like yourself when you talk to them. No need for a script or formula. You just talk.
3. You listen to them. You tune in to what they have to say to you, and you stop talking long enough to hear them.

Here's the thing: God is wherever you are, and He wants to hear from you. No need to wait for a prayer meeting. You don't even have to get up early to pray (if you're not a morning person, nobody knows that better than God—He made you!). Just talk to Him. You need something? You have questions? TALK TO HIM.

And don't forget the other half of the equation: listen to Him. In my experience, the #1 way God talks to us is through that great big book He gave us. It's not the only way, but it's the reason He gave us the Bible. Go ahead and throw out your Churchian “devotional guide” that tells you to spend a certain amount of time praying and a separate period of time reading the Bible. Two-way communication with God is the point of it all, right? Talk to Him, listen to Him, and get to know His voice. It really is that simple.

*If you follow this link and look for the prayer lesson in the clip, there isn't one--just the origin of the phrase I used for the section heading at about 1:05.