Early morning Saturday. I made my list. It looked pretty overwhelming. There were several projects involving lots of words, lots of time, lots of creativity. And that was just one kind of project.
I was sitting in my morning coffee with God chair. I looked across my office to the clock above my desk. I saw the word “pray”.
It wasn’t a vision, of course. It is the title of a magazine that I used to receive, full of advice for people who help other people learn how to pray. There are articles about organizing prayer meetings, talking prayer walks, getting people to pray together and individually. But on Saturday morning, it wasn’t a resource. The magazine title, just a corner poking past a crowded shelf of books, was an invitation to talk with God about the list.
That’s the point of the chair in the corner of the office. It’s the point of the early alarm, and the coffee maker that awakens to a slightly earlier alarm. I get up to read and write, conversations with God with pen and paper, Psalm and silence.
But some mornings at the end of scattered weeks and project-laden weekends we need simple reminders. We have the habit of rising, but forget the other person sitting in the room, quietly waiting. And we don’t need guilt-driven sermons reminding us of impossible spiritual standards. We are not open rebellion against everything Jesus taught, defiant Pharisees calling for his death. We are tired human beings with dreams and decisions and fatigued hearts and bodies. And what we need – and receive – are simple invitations to lay the pen down by the seemingly impossible list and pray.
“God, sorry. I got distracted. What were you saying? What would you suggest? Was there something you were working on that you want me to help with?”