This is the second entry in our series THE ONLY NECESSARY THING, in which we are learning what prayer is, how it “works”, and different forms of prayer we can implement into our spiritual rhythms.
I had a short period of deconstruction during my college years before that term became as commonplace as it is today. I had the revelation one Sunday in my freshman year at Flagler College, as many do, that I do not have to go to church if I don’t want to. This was a tremendously freeing idea for a pastor’s kid to have, as Sunday services were non-negotiable in my childhood. During that time I think I would have said I was still Christian; my wandering was not so much with the ideas of faith, but the practices themselves. That newfound freedom, however, hit a wall after a couple years when a friend came to me in a crisis and I realized I had nothing to offer him. I felt dried up inside, spiritually hollow. This led me to seek out a new faith community I could call home for myself, beyond the faith developed under my parents’ roof. After several attempts at run-of-the-mill nondenominational churches that, frankly, felt rather shallow to me, I discovered a small Episcopal Church in my neighborhood that welcomed me with open arms.
One of the things that grasped me so profoundly in those first few months was the recognition that I was choosing back into my own tradition. These prayers came naturally to me because they were ingrained in me from when I was little. One prayer in particular felt like a coming home from a prodigal wandering:
Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known,
and from you no secrets are hid: Cleanse the thoughts of our
hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit, that we may
perfectly love you, and worthily magnify your holy Name;
through Christ our Lord. Amen.
This prayer is spoken by the people right at the beginning of the eucharistic service. It sets the tone for what is about to take place - a recognition of Who God is, and a petition to the Trinity to cleanse us so we may love better. This and prayers like it have become for me the bedrock of my spiritual life, something I can return to time and again in order to be reminded what is most true.
A rich prayer life connects us to God from the inside-out, and from the outside-in. The most common form of prayer you might be familiar with is what I call “inside-out prayer” - we are assessing what we are thinking or feeling inside us, and projecting that out to God. It is an important type of prayer, but it does have its blindspots, in that it can lead us to become rather self-centered in our faith, only turning to God when we need to ask for something. Inside-out prayer also does not inherently teach us who God is or shape our expectations of God. This is why I find it compelling to add onto it “outside-in prayer” - written prayers and rituals that lead us places we may not go spontaneously on our own.
We live in an era in which spontaneity is seen as a virtue. We crave authenticity, and are tempted to reject anything that feels prescriptive. We believe any authentic expression of faith must rise up from within our lived experience. Yet spontaneity does not equal authenticity, and it does not produce maturity in us. I recall a conversation with someone in our community early on in my time here as pastor, who was complaining that the liturgical prayers I was implementing in worship felt rigid and rote and inauthentic. I asked this person if the songs we just finished singing were any different, other than the fact they had musical accompaniment. We cannot aimlessly or accidentally wander into a mature faith, we have to be led there. We need guidance to learn God’s character and will, and where God desires to take us.
Liturgy, as “the work of the people”, grounds us in God’s truth when the world about us feels like sinking sand. In Deuteronomy 6 we read how Moses has been instructed by YHWH to give Israel the rhythms of faith they need to remain in love with Him, which becomes the foundation of the Torah: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts” (Deut. 6:5,6). The Law instills rhythms of prayer that keep God’s children in the flow of His love, rehabilitating them from 400 years of slavery in Egypt, in such a way as it changes their hearts, thoughts, and actions. God designed us to be ritualistic creatures - we need practices that make ideas tangible in our lives and root us in what is most true.
I recall a moment several years ago when I ventured downtown to the cathedral to participate in a holy communion noonday service. That day happened to be the presidential inauguration (I will refrain from telling you which president). I arrived early, awaiting the other half-dozen attendees and the elderly priest who was on rotation that day to arrive. In the silence of the side chapel I gazed upon the simple crucifix hanging in the corner. That is what a true inauguration looks like, I thought to myself. As we began the service I became cognizant of how stubborn liturgical prayer is in a way. It doesn’t matter what is happening within me, or what the news headlines are at any given moment. These are the prayers we plan to pray today, and they’ll be the same tomorrow. They are stubborn and subversive, because they also start to form how I interpret my interior world and the world around me. Ritual and rhythms, from a pure heart, keep us grounded in the story of God, binding us to the Church Universal and Historical. When we don’t know what to pray, written prayers help us stay present and attentive to God.
Liturgy contributes to a narrative journey of faith; and an ecosystem of Word, Worship, Silence, Sacrament, and Community. In the letter to the Philippians, Paul encourages us to a robust life of prayer so that we might embody the truth that “the Lord is near” (Phil. 4:5). He gives various examples of practices that contribute to the ecosystem of our faith so we might experience the peace of God. The pattern of liturgical prayer helps us what the path holistically so we experience everything we can in worship:
Invitation/Gathering/Ascent - We sing and pray as a way to bring God and people together, entering in to the sacred space.
Adoration/Truth - We declare Who God is because we need to be reminded before we ask a thing.
Response/Application - Because of Who God is, this is who we are and what we ask for. We confess, we petition, we reflect and receive.
Commissioning/Empowerment - We are a sent people. We take what we have experienced with God and God’s people, and we carry it with us out into the world, participating in what God is already doing out there.
At City Beautiful Church we are attempting to hold what I call a post-denominational posture. As Christendom collapses around us, we no longer have the luxury of staying in our little tribal lanes, convinced our way is the best way. Post-denominationalism empowers us to lean over the fence and inquire of our brothers and sisters in other traditions, “how do you pray? What brings you close to God?” We don’t want to be too precious with our own style, we want to learn anything that will help us stay grounded in God’s truth. This means creating space for both inside-out and outside-in prayers. It is the task of each of us to decide if liturgy is boring or transcendent.
There are many form of liturgical prayer out there that you could implement in your daily and weekly rhythms. Over the past few years, I have found a lot of life in praying the Daily Office from the Northumbria Celtic community in England. The morning liturgy begins with a call to worship and a gathering up into the house of God. There are three scripture readings each day that have some connection between them, and a poem for meditation. Then comes a time of intercession for those who are on my heart. And finally an invocation patterned after the Breastplate of Saint Patrick to set the tone for the day, and a commissioning prayer.
Some liturgical prayer resources:
https://www.northumbriacommunity.org/offices/how-to-use-daily-office/