Re-establishing a routine of prayer

For the past nine years, the life of the Carrs Lane Lived Community revolved around a rhythm of daily prayer. There was, over that time, some tinkering at the edges, and yes, there were holiday breaks in the routine but it, and my commitment to it, remained fundamentally unchanged. 

The strict rhythms of prayer at Carrs Lane, and the unwavering commitment to public, open prayer did exert certain limitations; but while there were odd occasions when that felt restrictive, over all, the immovability felt like a positive. Prayer didn't need to be thought about or negotiated. Prayer just was.

With the drawing to an end of the life of the community, I have had to rethink what prayer looks like now and how it slots back into my life and routines. I can't always effectively articulate why, but I know making space for prayer in my life is important to me. I know that it has a positive impact on how I feel and that more becomes possible because of it. 

This is not about compartmentalising prayer away from the rest of my life. There are plenty of other parts of my life which feel prayerful, which feel like places where I encounter God, but I recognise the value I find in this conscious carving out of time to pause and be present.

I am lucky that where I live now I have still been able to create a dedicated space for prayer. I know, for me, having sacred space, makes a difference to my ability to focus: putting my body in a prayerful space helps me put my head and heart there too. 

I like thoughtful, creative ways of praying which have taken effort and energy to pull together. But I also know that for a regular routine of prayer I need something that requires little preparation, thought or energy, which can be slotted in easily and not feel like a burden. Something simple enough that I can do it even when I am not in the mood. Something which creates a space where I can consciously put myself in the presence of God and simply be.

I played around with a few things at the beginning of September and think I have found a model that is working, for now at least. Mostly, then, this is how I am now starting my days: with a cup of tea and a short time of prayer. Some days, if I haven't started the day with it, I fit it in later, some days, it doesn't happen at all. While definitely a less strict routine than the one I followed at Carrs Lane it feels like I am establishing enough of a routine for it to become part of life in the way I want and need it to be.

After playing a song or two (on Spotify, I haven't suddenly developed musical talent or anything), I've been reading one psam a day, starting from the beginning (a very good place to start). Even though I am praying alone, I have been reading them out loud ... words definitely resonate differently read aloud. I have also read each in two different translations (a stark reminder, if one were needed that even the very words of our biblical texts are an interpretation, before we even start on everything else about them that needs interpreting, but I digress). I've then been choosing and copying out one verse (or part of a verse, or occasionally a couple of verses) Laying out the words on the page, tracing back over letters already written is proving, as much if not more than the words themselves, a form of meditative reflection.

I don't, honestly, think this is going to be what I do for the the next nine years, but for now, for me, it works. 

Autumn days

A place in the Kindom of God

A couple of weeks ago, in a prayer book I came across a prayer which included the words "The Kindom of God". I don't remember anything else about what the prayer was about. Just that phrase from it.

I suspected, if I was honest, it may have been a typo (although have since been assured it wasn't and was entirely intended), but the term immediately struck me and stuck with me. I instantly knew I liked it as an alternative to the "Kingdom of God" a term with which I am deeply familiar but not entirely comfortable, both because of its gendering of God and of its association with authoritarianism, wealth and privilege ... none of which sits easily with my image of the kind of society God is calling us towards.

For me "kindom of God" implies humanity united across all its various divides as one family, drawn into oneness by love and by a mystery greater than and beyond ourselves and our understanding ... and as such sums up much of what I believe about what my faith calls me towards.

A quick google search showed me that others are already exploring using the term, but the squiggly red line beneath it here indicates it has not yet found a place in common parlance. It was new to me, gave me pause for thought, and is a word I will definitely be adding to my vocabulary for trying to make sense of the mystery of God, and so for what it worth, I am sharing it here to remind myself, and in case others find it helpful too.