I have been thinking alot lately about the power of prayer. I've been joking that God must be tired of hearing about "Connie Knapp" -- my beloved church congregation is praying for me, our synagogue is praying for me, and I think there are probably some folks who never pray who might be praying for me.
Last night my church held a longest night service. I find great comfort in being with a community in the darkness of the longest night, of naming the darkness, whether it is our own darkness or the darkness of the world. I especially find great comfort in doing this during Advent, when we wait for the light to come into the world.
During our service, those who are present are invited to join with someone to light a candle, say a prayer, or be prayed with and/or over. I have had the privilege of being the "pray-er" in the past, and last night I was invited to be a "pray-er" again.
Okay, so this is where this post gets weird, so hold onto your hats. As each person comes up, I worry for one second about what I will say. Then I look into their eyes and I truly feel God's presence with me as I find the words. I'm not the one praying; the Holy Spirit is praying through me. Feeling this frees me from the worry of "did I say the right thing?" "is this what the person needed to hear?" This is so much "not about me" but "all about God."
I left church last night with a full heart, full of love, joy, sadness, darkness, and light. And reminded again of the power of prayer.
I realize that God will never tire of hearing about "Connie Knapp" any more than any parent would tire of hearing about their own child. I remember what Pat DeJong, then at Riverside Church, more recently the Senior Pastor at First Congregational Church in Berkeley, once said to me. During the late 1980's when young men were dying from AIDS, I was losing an average of a friend a month. I was heartbroken, so angry at God, trying to make sense of all of this. And Pat said, in her beautiful quiet way, "Don't you think that God's heart is broken, too?" The image of God with a broken heart brought me up short. I never thought of God's heart being broken.
And so God is with us in the darkness, the light, the good times and the bad. We are all, every single one of us, God's children. And prayer connects us to God and to one another.
May it be so. I wish light in the darkness for all of us, and for this world which needs it so badly.
And let us say "Amen." Merry Christmas, one and all!
Last night my church held a longest night service. I find great comfort in being with a community in the darkness of the longest night, of naming the darkness, whether it is our own darkness or the darkness of the world. I especially find great comfort in doing this during Advent, when we wait for the light to come into the world.
During our service, those who are present are invited to join with someone to light a candle, say a prayer, or be prayed with and/or over. I have had the privilege of being the "pray-er" in the past, and last night I was invited to be a "pray-er" again.
Okay, so this is where this post gets weird, so hold onto your hats. As each person comes up, I worry for one second about what I will say. Then I look into their eyes and I truly feel God's presence with me as I find the words. I'm not the one praying; the Holy Spirit is praying through me. Feeling this frees me from the worry of "did I say the right thing?" "is this what the person needed to hear?" This is so much "not about me" but "all about God."
I left church last night with a full heart, full of love, joy, sadness, darkness, and light. And reminded again of the power of prayer.
I realize that God will never tire of hearing about "Connie Knapp" any more than any parent would tire of hearing about their own child. I remember what Pat DeJong, then at Riverside Church, more recently the Senior Pastor at First Congregational Church in Berkeley, once said to me. During the late 1980's when young men were dying from AIDS, I was losing an average of a friend a month. I was heartbroken, so angry at God, trying to make sense of all of this. And Pat said, in her beautiful quiet way, "Don't you think that God's heart is broken, too?" The image of God with a broken heart brought me up short. I never thought of God's heart being broken.
And so God is with us in the darkness, the light, the good times and the bad. We are all, every single one of us, God's children. And prayer connects us to God and to one another.
May it be so. I wish light in the darkness for all of us, and for this world which needs it so badly.
And let us say "Amen." Merry Christmas, one and all!
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