Unlikely Thoughts on Prayer
Well, that's just it. I'm stuck this morning, in a trembling state... on what it is I can not say about prayer. And by that, I don't mean that I have nothing to say. I mean that what I have to say might cause someone to choke on her morning coffee.
Here's the thing. It's. I'm. Okay, out with it... I'm thinking about prayer as sex (not sex as prayer, which could also be argued I suppose). I'm thinking about how so much of our prayer and instruction on prayer is like (don't choke, okay, I'm warning you up front) porn. I don't mention that word to be graphic or sensational and definitely not to be condemning for those who've developed a habit in that direction (there's enough of all three in the world to go 'round, it's just not my way, and it's not my point).
In other words, prayer is too often Insert Tab A into Slot B for Response C. It probably works on some level. It's definitely a reach for connection. And it's a little like painting by number. We put the hot-red paint on the number 1's and the passion-blue paint on the number 5's, and so on. And in the end we've got our velvet Elvis. There he is, charmer on black. Flat and fuzz-muted. No one can argue that we haven't captured him at least in some small way. It's a matter of spectrum.
And now I'm gulping about the task ahead of me this morning. I'm going to take the plunge and try to write this chapter using this angle. It's going to mean an unorthodox dip into Song of Songs. I'm not too pleased about it, to be honest with you. Except that I think it's the way to go. This is the call of the writer: to follow the trail set before him/her. God, give me courage and sensitivity and the will to go all the way.