Prayer Percolating in the Valley

When you are praying, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do; for they think they will be heard because of their many words. Matthew 6:7

I am a morning person. I like the stillness and quiet of the morning. I like listening to the coffee maker gurgle and pop as it heats the water, pumps it up to the lid to fall quietly and gently into the basket of grounds through which it will make its way back into the carafe from which it came – the circle of life.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air is particularly delightful, providing a sense of peace and contentment as the day begins to unfold. I do not break the spell with news and commentary – or music and entertainment – from radio or television. Rather, I listen to the sounds of the world around me.

Oh sure, many of those sounds are artificial or manufactured. There is the steady rhythm of the clock above the fireplace ticking and tocking; there is the hum of the refrigerator cycling on and off, dropping off a load of ice every now and then; there is the fan whirring away from the kick-board heater in the kitchen; but aside from those ambient noises within the home, all is quiet.

It is a time for centering prayer; spending time alone – with God.

I find that many people are uncomfortable with silence. When we have periods of silence in church there is often an uneasy rustling that rises up from the pews as folks are anxious to get on with the service. Surely, they must think, if we’re not doing something, we must not be doing anything – and that certainly runs against the grain of the perpetual motion machine that is our culture.

But sitting, standing, or walking quietly is not the same as doing nothing. Being at peace while walking through the woods or skiing down a mountain trail is hardly “doing nothing.” Certainly it takes some concerted effort to move along without stumbling over roots and rocks or without accidentally skiing off a cliff, but in the process, one can find him or herself coming into harmony with the activity, the process, and the whole universe. When that happens, I think one is engaged in communion with God. That, I believe, is the essence of prayer.

I am not fond of doing a lot of talking when I pray. There are times I do converse with God about the people and situations I am facing in life, and that takes a bit of organization and time, of course. But mostly, my desire is to simply be in the presence of the Almighty, and to know that is enough.

Trying to line one’s life up with God’s isn’t easy and, ultimately, isn’t even really possible. There is a great gulf fixed between us that is far too great to transit even just a smidge, and yet that God delights to spend any time with any of us is a miracle of grace beyond my comprehending, and so I don’t try to understand it; I just try to accept and enjoy it the way I would enjoy a grand symphony – with eyes closed, personally lost in the reverie of the moment.

Like a scoop of freshly ground coffee, I am content to sit in the basket – basket case that I often am – and let the Spirit of the Most High flow in, through, and around me. If I am going to be in hot water (as I sometimes am), then it is my expectation that it will at least result in filling the air with a sweet aroma. My hope, prayer, and desire is for the essence of my life to rise to the heavens above and tickle with pleasure the nose of God.

At least that’s some of what’s percolating in my mind this week as I share some of the grounds of my faith with all of you here in this, our valley.