The Knitting Theologian

Yesterday morning, just as I was getting ready to step outside to say Morning Prayer on the patio, my four-year old niece, Sophie, came into my room and climbed up on my bed.

“Can I look at that God book?” she inquired.

Somewhat surprised, because I didn’t think she knew how to read, I passed over In Conversation with God, and watched as she leafed carefully through the pages.

“How can you read this book?” she demanded. “It doesn’t have any pictures! I better look at another one.” She put ICWG carefully aside and picked up the Liturgy of the Hours.

Figuring that I was going to have company for prayer time, I sat down and began the series of vocal prayers that I say each morning. When I finished, Sophie looked up at me.

“You better keep praying,” she advised. “I have a lot of books to go through.”

She reviewed each one of my prayer books. When she finished she shook her head, almost in disgust.

“Don’t any of these books have pictures?”

“Well, no,” I said. “I just read the words.”

Sophie shook her head, climbed off the bed, and wandered out. Prayer must look a lot different to a four-year old.

My current “theme” Scripture:

Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for God is at work in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure. (Philippians 2:12-13)

That’s what I’m doing. Step by step. Bit by bit. Slipping back and gradually moving forward. Continuing on this spiritual journey because, really, it’s too late to turn back and I have no other options. Making a daily act of will to put my trust in God. Trying to accept the fact that I don’t have the big picture of where I’m going to end up; only the daily task list:

1. Love others
2. Worship God
3. Obey His word
4. Practice virtue

I attribute it all to mental prayer. One of these days I’ll get up a post on how mental prayer changed (well, is still changing) my life.

In my class last spring on Contemporary Christian Prayer and Spirituality, some fun was poked at the expense of people who maintained a prayer list. I know other people who feel that praying for others by name is somewhat redundant, like telling God to do something that He already knows about and is probably doing already.

Well, I keep a prayer list and I pray for specific people by name. I have done this for years, and it feels right to me but it’s a good question: why do I do it?

I do in fact believe that God holds all of us close, cares for us, and does His best to answer our petitions, whether or not we speak them. For that reason, I don’t ask for specific intentions very often unless someone asks me to do so. I usually ask God to hold people close, hear their prayers, and bless them abundantly, which I figure should cover everything.

I guess for me it’s a specific act of love, to commend these folks to God each day. Many of those on my list are people I do not see every day, and praying for them by name helps me feel close to them and to think of them. I’m afraid that outside of prayer time, my brain is so busy that although I might think of someone, left to circumstance I would probably forget.

And then there are the people on my list who I don’t like. I’m not sure why I pray for them daily, by name, other than in hopes of effecting a change in my own heart. My pastor, Fr. N., once said in a homily that anyone you prayed for by name couldn’t remain an enemy for long. In hopes of that, and in some specific cases in hopes of healing, I pray for certain people who I would much prefer to ignore.

There is another reason. It has to do with being an extreme introvert (a reality show you will never see). People wear me out. I love them, and I want to hear their stories—and then I want them to go home. And sometimes I don’t want to see anyone for awhile. It is easier for me to love some people from a distance—and one of the ways I do that is by praying for them.

Just read this, and understand why I love St. Augustine. Dude lived 1600 years ago, but still rocks.

So, then, my brothers, let us sing now, not in order to enjoy a life of leisure, but in order to lighten our labors. You should sing as wayfarers do — sing, but continue your journey. Do not be lazy, but sing to make your journey more enjoyable. Sing, but keep going. What do I mean by keep going? Keep on making progress. This progress, however, must be in virtue; for there are some, the Apostle warns, whose only progress is in vice. If you make progress, you will be continuing your journey, but be sure that your progress is in virtue, true faith, and right living. Sing then, but keep going. (From the Liturgy of the Hours, volume 4, second reading from the Office of Readings for the Saturday of the Thirty-Fourth Week in Ordinary Time.)

Yes, this morning marks the beginning of using volume 4 of the Liturgy of the Hours, and I was “moving back in,” looking at where I had left my ribbons back last November at the end of Ordinary Time, and I saw this wonderful passage.

I am full of gratitude and praise for God this morning, and my heart is singing within me.