Tuesday 2/19/2013 4:20 AM
My psalm for the week is Psalm 25, one that I committed to
memory a few years ago. It begins with a
simple statement of faith, “In you, Lord my God, I put my trust.” It may be a simple statement but it is loaded
with possibilities. David states his
request in verses 4 and 5. “Show me your
ways, Lord, teach me your paths. Guide
me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you
all day long.” God, of course holds up
his side of the bargain. “Good and
upright is the Lord; therefore he instructs sinners in his ways. He guides the humble in what is right and
teaches them his way. … Who, then, are those who fear the Lord? He will instruct them in the way they should
choose. … The Lord confides in those who fear him; he makes his covenant known
to them.” It seems it doesn’t matter to
God if I am a sinner or one who fears God, if I trust God and ask for
direction, God will deliver. Praying for
God to teach me his way is a loaded prayer.
In her book Clinging–The
Experience of Prayer, Emilie Griffin writes, “Prayer is, after all, a very
dangerous business. For all the benefits
it offers of growing closer to God, it carries with it one great element of risk:
the possibility of change. In prayer we
open ourselves to the chance that God will do something with us that we had not
intended. We yield to possibilities of
intense perception, of seeing through human masks and the density of ‘things’
to the very center of reality. This
possibility excites us, but at the same time there is a fluttering in the
stomach that goes with any dangerous adventure.
We foresee a confrontation with the unknown, being hurt, being
frightened, being chased down. Don’t we
know for a fact that people who begin by ‘just praying’–with no particular aim
in mind–wind up trudging off to missionary lands, entering monasteries, taking
part in demonstrations, dedicating themselves to the poor and the sick? To avoid this, sometimes we excuse ourselves
from prayer by doing good works on a carefully controlled schedule. We volunteer for school committees, to be
readers in church or youth counselors, doing good works in hopes that this will
distract the Lord from asking us anything more difficult. By doing something specific and limited ‘for
God,’ something we judge to be enough and more than enough, we skirt the
possibility that God–in prayer–may ask us what he wants to ask, may suggest
what we should do.”
I often joke with my small group that if I don’t want God
to tell me what to do I simply stop reading my Bible and stop praying. Griffin would probably agree that this is an
effective strategy of avoiding the call of God.
In reality, I often hear the call of God but I fail to act in obedient
faith. I don’t trust God. It is easy to pray for someone who has
recently suffered a loss but when God suggests that I invite the person to
lunch and share in their grief I step back; worried that I may accidentally
open a wound that has begun healing. It
is easy to pray for those who are outcasts of society, but when God suggests
that I greet a former member of my church who is gay, and attending worship
with his parents and his partner, I refuse to do so because I fear the
awkwardness of the situation. God does
his part in teaching me his way, the way of love, but I fail to act. God has promised to equip me for the task to
which he calls me but I do not trust God to be true to his promise.
I wonder how long it took for David to come to a point where
he could write confidently, “In you, Lord my God, I put my trust.” I am still not to that point and I wonder if
I will ever get there. Perhaps I should
pray about it. Of course, if I do that
God will undoubtedly give me more opportunities to practice. Maybe I’ll volunteer for a school committee.
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