Praying Imperfectly in a Complicated World

The power of a printed litany is that I put words into people’s mouths each week. That’s why I am so careful in what I write for congregational response. I don’t want people to find words coming out of their mouth that do not hold their hopes and dreams.  In fact, a couple of weeks ago, there had been a typo in transferring the words that I had written onto the screen.  Two of our services that weekend, instead of praying to an “unwearied God” prayed to a “wearied God” instead.  Oops.   I trust in the words of Isaiah 40:28, that God will never grow weary, and I’m sorry to the people who had to say the very opposite thing out loud in church. 

This Saturday night, I made a mistake in worship. Forty-five minutes before the service began, I opened my email and received a prayer litany written by some clergy who are living within the area of Ferguson, Missouri.  They have been walking with that community through the pain of the past week. Out of their experiences, they had written a prayer litany and requested that all Missouri Methodist churches use it in worship.

As I quickly skimmed the litany, I was a little troubled by it. Some of the language seemed loaded, and there appeared to be an overall bias.  I was also concerned about well these words would translate onto the projection screen, when we would only be able to see a phrase at a time without the entire context. However, I knew that this litany was birthed from those persons who had walked those streets, and so I heeded the request and used the litany, unedited, in worship that night.

Words that may speak to the hearts of people on one side of the state, it turns out, can cause pain on the other side of the state.  I discovered that as we are struggling to understand that truth of the situation and pray for justice from a distance, we need to be gentle in how we talk and pray together. And I was reminded once again that, if I am going to put words into people’s mouths, those words need be words of healing and hope. 

Immediately after worship, I edited the prayer litany heavily for use at our Sunday services. Sunday evening brought the release of the initial autopsy results and renewed violence. In light of the autopsy (6 gunshots, including 2 to the head, to an unarmed person?  Lord have mercy . . .), perhaps the first litany spoke the deeper truth. For those of us who do not have the entire truth, though, perhaps the best we can do is pray for one another, friend and foe, innocent and guilty, and everyone in between. 

Below is the edited prayer. I continue to pray these words, that justice and peace may come to Ferguson and throughout our nation.

For those who have seen their lives torn apart by violence of all kinds,

Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
For the family of Michael Brown, his friends and his community, and for all those who grieve the loss of life tragically ended.
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
For the officers and first responders that day, and for those who risk their own safety to continue to try to keep peace.
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
For those who have responded to violence with more violence, and for those who have pleaded for an end to violence.
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
For those who look at this situation from a distance, neglecting to get involved or too easily passing judgment, and for those people who are willing to step out and to lead in times of trouble.
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
For those persons in positions of power who have not used their power effectively, and for those persons who use their power to work for reconciliation and justice.
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
For the people of Ferguson and of St. Louis, city and county—north and south, east and west, and for all of the people of this nation who are affected by these issues.
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
And for us, Lord—your body the church, that we may be agents of your reconciliation, peace and justice.
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.  Amen.

Don't read this if you're scared of needles!

How did I end up on the floor of my office on a Wednesday morning with a whole bunch of acupuncture needles stuck in me?  Believe me, I wondered the exact same thing as I lay there. The day had started so very normally.  Being in the final throes of vacation preparation, I was an extremely efficient pastoral machine. Sermons had been planned and written, along with a few articles that would be published in my absence. With a few days to go, I was tending to some of the more mundane details. The huge plant in my office needed to be carried to the kitchen so that others could water it.  Sometime after I set the plant on the kitchen table, it happened.

My back did whatever back-y thing it does, and it stopped working. What started as a twinge wouldn’t un-twinge, and I found myself unable to walk or do much of anything.  The floor of my office seemed like the best option for me to wait and hope for this episode to pass.  A staff member handed me a few books and my laptop, and there I lay.  

It’s a little blurry about how the Korean acupuncturist appeared at my side, but I’m pretty sure it had to with Choong-Ho, my very compassionate associate pastor. I think I was more surprised at finding a doctor that made housecalls than I was about the whole acupuncture thing. I had never had acupuncture before, but I was willing to try anything to fix my back. I looked at Choong-Ho, whom I was forcing to stay in the room with me, and said, “Now, acupuncture doesn’t hurt, does it?”  Laughing, he said, “Yes, it does.” 

Here is what I now know about acupuncture. The doctor (a very kind, gentle, and competent man) presses on various pressure points on hands, ears, feet, etc. while asking “Does this hurt?”  When the answer is affirmative, he sticks a needle in that spot. While sticking it in, he asks again, “Does this hurt?” and does not stop inserting the needle until the answer is affirmative. Once all the needles are inserted (where they’ll stay for 20 minutes), he’ll thwack them occasionally if they’ve stopped hurting.  He is very kind and gentle, but finding the painful spots is how he does his work.

While lying needle-fully on my floor, I couldn’t help but laugh. I really do have the most extraordinary job in the world. I have been exposed to experiences that I never, ever would have had otherwise, both for the good and for the bad. (And, yes, I consider my acupuncture adventure under the “good” column.) While talking me through the needles, Choong-Ho pointed to the Eleanor Roosevelt quote I have in my office, “Do one thing every day that scares you.” On Wednesday, that mission was accomplished!  Life is so interesting, and I’m thankful for ways that keep pushing me beyond my comfort zone.

By the way, I was able to get up and make it to my favorite chiropractor’s office after that treatment. I’m still moving slowly, but at least I’m moving. The human body is a complex thing, and I’m thankful for medicinal wisdom from east, west, and anywhere else that helps bring healing.  (Don't look at the pic below if you're squeamish!  I didn't look until after it was all over.)

The Attack of the Wolf Spider in the Men's Room!

Sunday morning, as is my habit, I made an inspection of our main bathrooms on my way into church.  Sometimes. . . things . . . happen over the weekend that need to be tended to before our Sunday morning crowds. Walking into the men’s room, I saw a large, dead wolf spider lying in the middle of the floor, with its legs folded under it.  I grabbed a paper towel to scoop it up and put it in the trash can. As soon I as touched it with the paper towel, the spider sprang to life! (Who knew that spiders played possum?) I shrieked, loudly, “It’s aliiiive!,” reminiscent of the doctor bringing Frankenstein to life. And, of course, I ran.

That’s when the scary stuff started.

The wolf spider ran, too. DIRECTLY TOWARDS ME. Little Things ought to skitter away from Things That Are Bigger Than They Are. Not this wolf spider. It chased me halfway across the men’s room!  It then stood its ground, glaring at me with all zillion of its spidery eyes.  I took a step towards it. It didn’t budge but kept glaring. 

We were at a standoff, my two eyes glaring back at his zillion eyes.

(The paper towel is where I dropped it while trying to pick up the fake-dead spider. See how far he chased me???)

 

My problem is that I actually like spiders, and wolf spiders are some of my favorites. They eat the bad guy spiders, like black widows and brown recluses.   They can grow to almost tarantula-esque proportions. If you get really lucky, you might find a female wolf spider with all of her little baby wolf spiders riding on her abdomen, which is a really cool sight to see. However, just because I like the species doesn’t mean that I wanted an attack spider terrorizing the men’s room on a Sunday morning.

I went for reinforcements, grabbing the only other person in the building at that hour, Eli the Amazing Sound Guy.  As we walked to the men’s room, he muttered something about “other duties as assigned,” but I’m sure he meant it in a complimentary way. He offered to smush the spider, but I insisted on a bloodless solution. With the help of a Styrofoam cup, we (okay, Eli) captured him, and I liberated him into the John Wesley garden.  He’ll have plenty of yummy things to attack and munch as he lives out the rest of his happy spider life at the feet of John Wesley’s statue.

We had a surprisingly good crowd for a holiday weekend, and I hope the great worship services made the trip worthwhile for those who came.  And you can rest assured that, while we praised God inside of our building, our attack wolf spider was on guard outside.