Sometimes the simplest things take the longest to figure out. We look and look, yet fail to see what is right in front of us. For the past month, I have been pondering this enigmatic photo by my talented friend Mel Orpen. She entitled it ‘Ripples in the Water’, yet it is so much more than that. I see the shadows bleeding into the light, and light piercing the darkness. What formed the shadows in the light that we can see, unless there is light before the darkness we cannot see?
This time of year is always tough for me. I do not like the short days and early nights. A friend calls this time of the year ‘The Dark Ages”. The building he works in has few windows, so he goes into work in the dark and leaves in the dark. Then there is the darkness of Covid, no longer an abbreviation but a word in its own right. Our prayer lists at church grow, covering both those suffering from the virus and other health challenges that will not wait for the virus to pass. There are days I simply lay my hands on the list rather than read the names aloud one by one. I have no audible response to even the names.
Then there is a faint whisper, a small, still voice. Go back to what you know, go back to the old Quaker ways of ‘holding them in the light’. When the list is long, how can I hope to know how to pray for them? Then I pull myself up short, asking if I need to know? After all, we are asked to pray to the Holy of Holies, the Author of Creation, the Savior of the World. God knows each of their wants and needs, their hopes and dreams. We do not seek to bend God’s will to theirs, but more to open our hearts and minds to what is possible with God. Rather than limit ourselves to what we are capable of, we need to stretch ourselves beyond the hard facts and cold realities into the realm of the possible. Otherwise all we see is the current darkness and we lose sight of the light that came before and the light that lies ahead.
We are called to pray for others, focusing on the outcome rather than the current dilemma. We pray for healing, wholeness, hope, comfort, understanding. Prayers can ramble on and on, especially prayers for those who hold most dear. Sometimes we pray for ourselves as much as we pray for them. How can we help? What is needed right now? How do I keep from getting ahead of myself? How do I hold onto hope?
At the end of the day, I must accept I do not know how to pray for others, at least not with words or simple sentiments. These prayers offered for others are best left at the foot of the throne, as described in Isaiah. I let go because I know I am lost in the folds of the hem of the Lord God Almighty’s robe. My view is small – His is all encompassing. My love has limits – His love is without beginning or end. Most important of all, my ways are surely not His ways.
Make time today to let go of what you expect, to allow your prayer to become very simple. Stand in the darkness with those in need of intercession. Lift them into the light ahead. Trust in the light that has come before. Know that no matter how meager your offering may be, you can trust God will make up the gap. Then end by collecting those prayers with God’s words, rather than your own.
Glory to God whose power, working in us, can do infinitely
more than we can ask or imagine: Glory to him from
generation to generation in the Church, and in Christ Jesus
for ever and ever. Amen. Ephesians 3:20,21
Text by Connie Chintall ©2020, All Rights Reserved
Photo entitled ‘Ripples in the Water’ by Mel Orpen©2020, used with her permission, All Rights Reserved. To see her film work, go to https://www.imdb.com/name/nm2146410/
Seek the Sacred Amidst the Ordinary 