Blog 9

Class this week has been both challenging and thought provoking, an overall fascinating examination of the implication of the words of the Lord's Prayer. While it is a prayer that most Christians recite word for word at least weekly, it's words are often quoted quite thoughtlessly. Of course, this does not mean that they should not be said just because they are not understood, but taking the time to analyze each phrase is certainly not something I have ever done. In doing so, I am beginning to think that each word could lead to a hundred different theological discussions, and in combination, an infinity of possible insights. When Jesus told his disciples to pray using these words, how much did he intend for us to extract from them? The words are a formula, but are they a rule of prayer or a strict theological teaching? I am brought to the question of discrepancies between our purpose in prayer and God's purpose for our prayer. How in the world do we discriminate between our own wordly definitions and interpretations of God's desire and God's true desire? The boundaries of our human theological thought processes are overwhelming, and lead me to intense "head-hurting" moments, as Randy would call them. However, it is when I get caught up in my own ponderances, trying to understand, that I become the most confused. There has to be some sort of balance between our desire to understand God and our ability to be satisfied with mystery. I think God wants us to try to understand--if we don't, we are in a sense avoiding truth by denying our intelligence. It seems like an insult to God to pretend that we humans are too human to understand God--God did create us afterall, and I am sure that God created us with the ability to understand as much as we needed to understand to get through life on Earth. Even now, however, I speak of God and God's intentions and desires, and the only way I am able to do so is in the language terms that I have learned. How is it that we can get to the point of reconstructing our image of God in our heads, abandoning the language that refers to God as a thing and accepting God for what God is--that God is (at least, that is as much as God told Moses).
These classes have me thinking more deeply about the trouble of words and expression and truth in relation to prayer than I think I ever have. At the same time, however, I have found it even more difficult to pray in the last couple of weeks. While I think this is a common experience, I wonder why it is that the more I have been thinking about prayer, the less I have been doing prayer. I have to be careful not to become so philosophical or intellectual about it that I distance myself from what it really is, which is a communication with God that I am required to partake in and should enjoy, without worrying about whether I am doing it right or it is being heard, whether God is disappointed in my prayers or I am doing them with the wrong intention.
The idea that the law of prayer is the law of belief has me challenging both my prayers and my belief. I say that I believe, but does my prayer life reflect that? Do I choose to believe in God? Does one choose to believe in the Truth? I don't choose to believe in things we commonly know as true, I just do because they are--so do I have the same perception of God? How do I avoid creating God in my own image for my own convenience, and if I don't, how do I find rest in the idea of forgiveness and salvation?

blog 8

This week's discussions have left me pondering the idea of prayer as being a "group" event--the emphasis in class of the words of the Lord's prayer, which reference a plural party in phrases such as our Father, give us our daily bread, and forgive us our sins, was one to which I had never really given focus.
It makes perfect sense that prayer is a conversation to be shared amongst believers and God, especially considering the notion that God should be in the center of every Christian relationship; however, for some reason it seems very difficult to make that inclusion on a regular basis. Prayer with other people can be so fulfilling, relieving, and uniting, and yet it seems to only occur in extreme times--in times of mourning or working through an argument, and more rarely in times of rejoicing, but hardly ever as a part of a daily routine shared with other people. It seems like people have an anxiety about praying in front of others, and would rather refer that "responsibility" to those who are "trained" to do so--in spite of the fact that as Christians, Jesus has given all of us all the training we need through his examples of prayer. I don't know that I have ever thought of somebody elses prayer as stupid or silly sounding, but I wonder if we don't all harbor some sort of fear that ours will be that way when we pray with others.
Just as we have touched on in class, I think that prayer is something that must be intentionally done, because if it is not a routine, it fades away and becomes more and more difficult to do or to remember to do. While it is important not to forget the meaning behind it or do it without thought, I think it is probably better to pray than not to pray, even when it feels like empty words.
I was once told of a discussion a friend had with a nun, who spent a great deal of every day praying--she admitted that most of the time, she did not feel very much of a connection with God or that there was true meaning or feeling in what she was doing. But every great once and a while, she felt an immense, real connection, and that it was worth all that seemingly meaningless and routine prayer to get to that point. I would argue that one cannot really experience that sort of relationship with God without participating in the responsibility of regular communion with God through prayer.
Back to the idea of group prayer--it intrigues me because we are also shown very significant examples of prayer between Jesus and God alone, in which Jesus intentionally isolated himself from other people so that he could pray alone. These were such important examples--particularly, in the garden the night before his crucifiction--deep moments dealing with the personal conflict and even fear that Jesus experienced.
As well, though we are taught a "method" of prayer in the Lord's prayer, we are also told by Paul that when we are so distraught that we cannot find the words we need to pray, the Spirit intercedes for us and God knows what we need. Scripture also tells us, however, that God always knows what we are going to pray for before we pray for it, but that we must pray for it in order to receive it.
While the messages on prayer are complex and many, one very clear thing is that it is central to the Christian lifestyle and essential in a relationship with God--it is, in fact the way by which we have a relationship with God. It is important to note that prayer should not always be a private affair, a message that I think is meant to emphasize the fact that prayer can and should be the foundation of relationships between people and not just between a person and God. However, it is also obvious that prayer can be a comfort for the lonely and something that takes place when alone as well. One does not have a friend and only think about him or talk about him when he is with him; he does so when he is not there as well. Just as we do not only talk about God or to God in church or with other people, we must devote ourselves to God when others are not around as well. Prayer is important! Just like telling someone that you love him or her--even if it does become a routine that you don't always think about, it does not change the fact that you do love that person, so it does no harm to repeat it often. Even if prayer is sometimes not "meant," it does not mean that you don't believe in God or love God, and praying is certainly not something that should only be done when one feels particularly moved to do so.

Blog 7

This week, while writing my inductive report, I began to think a lot about the idea of worry. The more I focused on it, the more I realized how much worrying I have been doing recently. One night, as I went to bed with my head full of thoughts, I kept repeating to myself that I should not worry about them. However, I kept getting distracted from these thoughts with more worrying.
I had finally ceased to worry about a particular aspect of some of the changes going on in my life when I spent time with someone who brought all those worries back to a head--a very frustrating thing. But to even let that happen is an example of how weak I am in my pledge to put more faith in God and less in my own ability to solve problems and fix my worry issue. I was also reminded of our recent discussions about discipleship and what it implies to be a disciple, or a follower of God. I struggle with the fact that my best friend is a chronic worrier, and it has recently been rubbing off on me. At times it seems like it sounds silly to tell someone to stop worrying by referring to Christ's exhortation not to, since another's problems are not our own to take lightly. At the same time, however, to be a disciple is, in a sense, to be willing to say what you believe is right without worrying about how it is going to be taken. I think I also harbor such fear about sounding self righteous that I often do not say what I think is wrong or what I think the solution to a problem is, even if I think it is truly "what Jesus would do." Of course, there is the additional struggle of hypocrisy, which Jesus addresses as well. However, fear of being called a hypocrite because you worry about turning around and doing the exact thing you advise against is probably just as bad as really being a hypocrite. Sin is unavoidable, but just because we are sinners does not mean that we should not confront our loved ones with their sins. At one point in his sermon on the mount, Jesus tells us that we should not point out the speck in another one's eye while ignoring the log in our own. However, we are then later instructed to teach and correct others, and reprove if necessary. It is all a tricky business, this righteousness stuff. And worrying is at the top of it all because we end up worrying about what the Bible is really telling us, which makes us just analyze words rather than accept the heart of their meaning and the reasoning that must take place in every situation--the gray in between the black and white, I suppose.
I will continue to try to not worry, but it is a constant struggle, especially when those whom I love the most are caught up in worry's claws. I will just have to pray for the faith that I need to be able to turn things over to God and convince my loved ones to do so as well.

Blog 6

This week I have found our conversations about the historical context in which the books of the Bible were written to be very interesting and enlightening. There are so many stories and lessons that have much more meaning when one actually takes the time to examine the context in which they were written, but we rarely seem to do so. I think the chronology of the Jewish people and their covanents with God is essential in understanding the relationship that Christians have with God. Gaining knowledge of the social and political persecution that God's people dealt with throughout the centuries before and after Jesus's life on earth enables us to better understand how they as a people and, particularly, the many individuals of whom we learn, related to their religion and to God, and how God treated and related to them.
I was touched by the review of various passages in which God's "feelings" for humans were revealed. While in Randy's section, we discussed the somewhat inaccurate habit of ascribing human emotions to God, several stories in the Bible seem to do just that--the story of Noah is a poignant example of such language. The idea that God was deeply saddened by humans' behavior is one that we can relate to--God's mercy in this situation, however, is an even more spectacular and emotional event--he recognizes and saves the one man who was faithful to him, along with part of his family. Many passages speak of God feeling moved by God's people, another event to which we as humans can relate. Perhaps, even, when we feel moved it is because God is moving inside us--the nature of our relationship is a mystery to me in many ways. There have been times in my life when speaking about my faith, even in the most mundane way, or hearing the simplest words spoken in a manner to which I have connected, I have suddenly felt the stir of something in me and been moved deeply, feeling in those moments very connected to God, but not knowing why it was those moments and not others. Sometimes I am sure God has communicated to me--these moments feel great, of course. Most of the time, however, as I am sure it is for most people, it is hard to know whether I am really in communication with God or not. However, I take to heart the image that we are God's children, and with that an mutual emotional love is implied--I am reminded of the notion I previously had that God was lonely before the creation, that God needs us and needs our love, just as we need God's love. With that love, of course, a deep responsibility is involved, and every other fruit that true love bears. But it is a mutual covenant in which we are participants with God--our duties may be quite different, but God has made promises to us just as we have made promises to God, and when we break those promises, both parties in our covenant feel that pain.