PRAYING FROM THE DEPTHS
Good morning, my WBC friends and family!
As I write this, the sun is streaming in through my windows, the birds are singing, and the world simply feels washed. My prayer this morning is that God will indeed wash our world clean and lead us into a bright new morning. After all, that’s the big promise of Jesus’s resurrection and so of Easter. By suffering and dying and rising again, Jesus defeated sin and death and evil and ridded them of all their power. In his letter to the Romans, Paul assures us that, “If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through his Spirit that dwells in you.” (Romans 8:11)
My hope is that God would use this morning’s devotional to give you a renewed taste of his Spirit and a bit more of his promised resurrection life.
Prayer
God of Beauty and Hope! You alone are faithful! You alone are good! We come to you this morning yearning for your resurrection life, hoping for another taste of your life-giving Spirit. Guide us by your Word and your Holy Spirit, so that in your light we might see light, and in your truth, we might find freedom, and in your will, we might truly discover peace through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Scripture
Mark 14:32-42
They went to a place called Gethsemane; and Jesus said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” He took with him Peter and James and John, and began to be distressed and agitated. And he said to them, “I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and keep awake.” And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. He said, “Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet, not what I want, but what you want.”
He came and found them sleeping; and he said to Peter, “Simon, are you asleep? Could you not keep awake one hour? Keep awake and pray that you may not come into the time of trial; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” And again he went away and prayed, saying the same words. And once more he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were very heavy; and they did not know what to say to him. He came a third time and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? Enough! The hour has come; the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up, let us be going. See, my betrayer is at hand.”
Hymn
“What Wondrous Love is This”
(YouTube video, with lyrics, for in-home worship: https://youtu.be/acOZB3u5_Gk)
What wondrous love is this,
O my soul, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this
that caused the Lord of bliss
To bear the dreadful curse
for my soul, for my soul,
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul.
When I was sinking down,
sinking down, sinking down,
When I was sinking down, sinking down,
When I was sinking down
beneath Gods righteous frown,
Christ laid aside His crown
for my soul, for my soul,
Christ laid aside His crown for my soul.
To God and to the Lamb,
I will sing, I will sing;
To God and to the Lamb I will sing.
To God and to the Lamb
Who is the great I Am;
While millions join the theme,
I will sing, I will sing;
While millions join the theme, I will sing.
And when from death I’m free,
I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on;
And when from death I’m free, I’ll sing on.
And when from death I’m free,
I’ll sing and joyful be,
And through eternity
I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on,
And through eternity I’ll sing on.
Reflection
In today’s scripture, a passage common to our upcoming celebration of Holy Week, Jesus goes quietly to a place called Gethsemane, and there he prays. It’s the moment right before he’s betrayed by Judas Iscariot, and the tension is palpable. Tradition has it that Jesus prayed so hard and so passionately that great drops of blood began to stream down his face. Metaphor or not, the image is striking.
What did Jesus pray? Mark tells us that he cried, “Abba! Father! For you, all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet, not what I want, but what you want.” In another version of this story, Matthew has it that Jesus prayed that same thing three separate times, each time for an hour, and always with the same words. “My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done.”
For years, my assumption was that the Gospel writers were merely summarizing a lengthier, much more elaborate prayer. After all, Jesus was there praying for hours. That’s a long time for just a dozen or so words. But, lately, I’ve begun to wonder if maybe that one thought, that one worry, that one deep desire not to have to drink that cup, was all that Jesus could muster there on his knees, only moments before his death.
Reflecting on his own experiences of trying to pray in moments of intense anxiety and fear, Brian McLaren explains that “when we’re suffering from anxiety, we can begin [to pray] by simply holding the word help before God, letting that one word bring focus to the chaos of our racing thoughts. Once we feel that our mind has dropped out of the frantic zone and into a spirit of connection with God, we can let the general word help go and in its place hold more specific words that name what we need, thereby condensing the cloud of vague anxiety into a bucket of substantial request. So we might hold the word guidance before God. Or patience. Or courage. Or resilience. Or boundaries, mercy, compassion, determination, healing, calm, freedom, wisdom, or peace.”
There are many times when my children cry out and their tears are so strong that they can’t explain what happened or even describe what hurts. Their cries, they feel, should be words enough. Their tears speak pain, and they desire comfort. As adults, I’m not sure we ever escape such guttural cries from “out of the depths.” In his letter to the Romans, Paul encourages us to remember that “the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.” Sighs too deep for words. My children sigh like this. Jesus, it would seem, sighed like this. Do you?
A couple weeks ago, I experienced, for the first time in my life, a panic attack. For eight or nine hours during the night, my heart raced, and it never slowed down. I couldn’t sleep. I could barely pray. I felt like the psalmist in Psalm 130: “Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord. Lord, hear my voice!” Hear my voice! Listen to my heart! Help! HELP!
Since then, I’ve found other words to express that deep need, but I’ve never once doubted that God understood my heart that night or that the Spirit knew me then better than I even knew myself. And that, in itself, is a deep comfort. Our prayers don’t have to be fancy or elaborate or even very detailed. Prayer is simply bearing our souls before God, letting him take the mess that is so often our hearts and our lives and our world and understand them better than we ever could. So, this week, if you’re struggling to pray or even to make sense of your own needs and feelings, feel free to begin with just the word help. Often, that’s all God needs.
Hymn
“What Wondrous Love is This”
(YouTube video, with lyrics, for in-home worship: https://youtu.be/acOZB3u5_Gk)
What wondrous love is this,
O my soul, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this
that caused the Lord of bliss
To bear the dreadful curse
for my soul, for my soul,
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul.
When I was sinking down,
sinking down, sinking down,
When I was sinking down, sinking down,
When I was sinking down
beneath Gods righteous frown,
Christ laid aside His crown
for my soul, for my soul,
Christ laid aside His crown for my soul.
To God and to the Lamb,
I will sing, I will sing;
To God and to the Lamb I will sing.
To God and to the Lamb
Who is the great I Am;
While millions join the theme,
I will sing, I will sing;
While millions join the theme, I will sing.
And when from death I’m free,
I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on;
And when from death I’m free, I’ll sing on.
And when from death I’m free,
I’ll sing and joyful be,
And through eternity
I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on,
And through eternity I’ll sing on.
Reflection
In today’s scripture, a passage common to our upcoming celebration of Holy Week, Jesus goes quietly to a place called Gethsemane, and there he prays. It’s the moment right before he’s betrayed by Judas Iscariot, and the tension is palpable. Tradition has it that Jesus prayed so hard and so passionately that great drops of blood began to stream down his face. Metaphor or not, the image is striking.
What did Jesus pray? Mark tells us that he cried, “Abba! Father! For you, all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet, not what I want, but what you want.” In another version of this story, Matthew has it that Jesus prayed that same thing three separate times, each time for an hour, and always with the same words. “My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done.”
For years, my assumption was that the Gospel writers were merely summarizing a lengthier, much more elaborate prayer. After all, Jesus was there praying for hours. That’s a long time for just a dozen or so words. But, lately, I’ve begun to wonder if maybe that one thought, that one worry, that one deep desire not to have to drink that cup, was all that Jesus could muster there on his knees, only moments before his death.
Reflecting on his own experiences of trying to pray in moments of intense anxiety and fear, Brian McLaren explains that “when we’re suffering from anxiety, we can begin [to pray] by simply holding the word help before God, letting that one word bring focus to the chaos of our racing thoughts. Once we feel that our mind has dropped out of the frantic zone and into a spirit of connection with God, we can let the general word help go and in its place hold more specific words that name what we need, thereby condensing the cloud of vague anxiety into a bucket of substantial request. So we might hold the word guidance before God. Or patience. Or courage. Or resilience. Or boundaries, mercy, compassion, determination, healing, calm, freedom, wisdom, or peace.”
There are many times when my children cry out and their tears are so strong that they can’t explain what happened or even describe what hurts. Their cries, they feel, should be words enough. Their tears speak pain, and they desire comfort. As adults, I’m not sure we ever escape such guttural cries from “out of the depths.” In his letter to the Romans, Paul encourages us to remember that “the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.” Sighs too deep for words. My children sigh like this. Jesus, it would seem, sighed like this. Do you?
A couple weeks ago, I experienced, for the first time in my life, a panic attack. For eight or nine hours during the night, my heart raced, and it never slowed down. I couldn’t sleep. I could barely pray. I felt like the psalmist in Psalm 130: “Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord. Lord, hear my voice!” Hear my voice! Listen to my heart! Help! HELP!
Since then, I’ve found other words to express that deep need, but I’ve never once doubted that God understood my heart that night or that the Spirit knew me then better than I even knew myself. And that, in itself, is a deep comfort. Our prayers don’t have to be fancy or elaborate or even very detailed. Prayer is simply bearing our souls before God, letting him take the mess that is so often our hearts and our lives and our world and understand them better than we ever could. So, this week, if you’re struggling to pray or even to make sense of your own needs and feelings, feel free to begin with just the word help. Often, that’s all God needs.
Prayers for Our World
Let us practice what we preach, shall we? Spend a few moments right now simply speaking the word help to God. Close your eyes and let yourself sink into that space where you’re most anxious or concerned, and speak whatever word comes to mind. God hears you, and he knows what you need.
When you are finished, let us turn our prayers specifically toward our families and our neighbors’ families and then to the world…
- For an abundance of patience and imagination for our young children, whose playgrounds and social networks have gotten as small as ours.
- For wisdom and patience for those of us who are now at-home parents, many of whom have had to take a crash course in teaching these past couple of weeks.
- For the physical health of our children and their parents, especially those whose parents are in the medical profession.
- For those families, like Scott Sunnenberg and Brandon and Stephanie Jones, who currently have a loved one in the hospital whom they aren’t allowed to see.
- For all who have loved ones in nursing homes or other places with limited access, and for those loved ones who are because of that feeling even more isolated.
- For all children and their parents living in poverty here in Cincinnati and across the world, especially those who don’t have quality healthcare or even the ability to safely quarantine.
- For this upcoming economic stimulus, that it would quickly provide the necessary funds to keep our most vulnerable families from falling into or even more deeply into poverty.
- For the wisdom and strength of the church here and around the world, especially in places without social safety nets, that we would be sources of hope and health and peace to these families.
- For all those who have died this week because of this virus, that God would receive them into his open arms of love.
Closing Prayer
Resurrected God, your Spirit intercedes for us with groans to deep for words. You know our needs and our burdens better than we do. Search out our hearts and speak for us, so that we can experience new life in our bodies, new hope in our hearts, and new peace in our minds. We ask these things in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, one God with you and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
For more on Brian McLaren’s teachings on anxious prayer, check out his book, Naked Spirituality.