Why I pray, and I hope you do, too.
God is our refuge and strength, / a help always near in times of great trouble./ That’s why we won’t be afraid when the world falls apart,/ when the mountains crumble into the center of the sea,/ when its waters roar and rage,/ when the mountains shake because of its surging waves. (Psalm 46.1-4, CEB)
Dear Friends,
Texas is big on my heart this week. We have all seen the horrific videos and images from swollen, raging rivers in the Texas Hill Country. The loss of life, numbers missing, and devastation wrought by floods along the Guadalupe and Colorado rivers is overwhelming.
Watching this terrible disaster unfold from a distance, only compounds the sense of fear and helplessness that many of us feel in the midst of so much unraveling of what we have known of the world or hoped it could be.
And yet, we must pray.
Prayer grounds us for action. With prayer, I pause and breathe. I remember that I am right here. I recall the origins of all creation in God’s goodness, generations of faithful people who have worked for the world’s healing in times past, and the fact that I was born and called to live faithfully in this time. I am here. So are you. Whatever else I may be called to do will flow from this grounding in my own being, nested in God.
Prayer connects us to hope. Hope fuels my persistence. The options are: keep going or give up. In prayer, I summon stories of God’s faithfulness and heralds of God’s promise to make the world new. I remember my call to share in that project, not as a lone voice or a solitary individual, but as one walking and working alongside God and God’s people to engage when we can, where we can, and how we can.
Prayer animates resilience. When the blows seem to keep coming, when we can hardly catch our breath or stand back up before another wave of disaster, praying – even with a simple word like “help” or a pained belly groan of despair – often summons within me the courage and strength to stand up again and take another step. Because if we stop getting up, we stop being. Period.
Prayer acknowledges possibilities, potential and a power greater than self. If I could fix all this, it would already be done. The same, I believe, is true about humanity. In prayer, I am opening the door to abilities and knowledge and abilities that we haven’t already tapped into. As a Christian, I pray to God through Jesus. Others pray to God in other ways or have alternative conceptions of a higher power. However it is for each of us, my experience of prayer keeps me open to the possibility that healing, peace and love can still come where it hasn’t been possible up to now.
Prayer binds us together. When I pray, I remember that I am not alone. The silos to which we often retreat—silos based on ideology, on history, on identity, on class, etc.—can often leave us feeling like we are alone and that the weight of the world is on my shoulders or yours. In prayer, I remember that I am connected with others. I remember that my hopes and longings for this world—and my fears and doubts about the future—are held together and lifted with yours. When we pray, whether alone on a walk or together in the church, I know others lift their hearts as I lift mine: a community staying connected in prayer and purpose.
Please do not stop praying. So much depends upon it.
With you,
Scott+
The Rev. R. Scott Painter, Rector
*The Diocese of West Texas and Episcopal Relief and Development are coordinating through parishes in the heart of the devastation to support relief and recover, provide shelter and basic essentials, and eventually to rebuild communities. If you are moved to do so, please join Tami and me in making special contributions to support those efforts.
