Contemplative prayer has been a miracle for me during a difficult season. It does not ask anything of me. It doesn’t ask that I believe when I can’t or don’t want to. It doesn’t demand faith or works or even prayer. It doesn’t require x amount of Bible study, x amount of volunteering, x amount of ministry. It doesn’t ask for forgiveness or sacrifice. It offers no advice. It doesn’t ask questions of me. It doesn’t demand answers or supplication. It enforces no doctrine and pursues no agenda. It doesn’t need me to be anyone else than who I am.
Instead, contemplative prayer gives. It gives me silence when I need silence, and comfort when I need comfort. It gives me grace, mercy, and compassion. It gives me presence. Rather than demand, it offers. Rather than scold, it encourages. It is kind. I sit down to it or turn my face to it, me, the chiefest of sinners, and I am rewarded with the face of God, the smile of God, the heart of God.
I cannot lay claim to contemplative prayer. It isn’t a skill or a talent. It isn’t works. I can’t do anything to encourage it other than receiving it; I can’t do anything to discourage it, other than rejecting it. I can never deserve it, and I can never lose my right or my claim to it. It is the very essence of a gift, the very essence of a God who cannot but Be.
And, in fits and starts, imperfectly, I’m learning to Be with God. No pretense. No holy rolling. No flowery language. No blaming…or lots of blaming. No anger, or only anger. Love, or no love. Faith, or uncertainty, or skepticism. Hope, despair. Anguish, joy. Depression, contentment. At war, or at peace; at rest, or in revolt. Half-asleep, or fully awake. It doesn’t seem to matter to God.
I beat my breast…and God beats His. I offer confident proclamations, but God merely sings me a song. I offer dire advice, and He runs circles around me and my human ways. I expect deserts, and yet She flows like living water.
I’m always expecting to reach the bottom of the gift basket, but there just isn’t any end to God. There is no scarcity of God, despite the best attempts of religion (mine and other people’s) to make it seem so.
I’m happy to be proven wrong…but I’m also sad that for the longest time, I believed such outrageous lies about God. I’m sad that I thought I had to. I’m sad that a part of me – the most human, most frightened part of me – believed that there was anything other to God than More Than Enough.
Contemplative prayer is a reminder. It reminds me that I am in an eternal moment with God. This moment doesn’t run out, or go away, or expire. It isn’t defeated or lost. I am in God’s very heart, and in Her very breath. Whatever else happens, I know that this is true. It’s here that I find my peace, and I think it’s here that God finds His, as well.