Dear Lord,
Let me introduce myself again.
It’s Claire.
I’m just approaching our time together
from a different angle.
I’ve decided to start praying/talking
to/with you on paper.
I think it will slow me down,
focus me,
and make me more present to you
as you work in, through and around me.
I think it will be an improvement over our typical
fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants conversations.
To get us off on the right track,
I 'd like to find a name to call you
that feels right.
I’ve got to say...
writing the words,
Dear Lord,
felt…off.
Why do I call you Lord?
Lord is…I don’t know…
medieval,
anthropomorphic,
male,
mired in unsavory human history.
And who is the Lord anyway?
We talk about Jesus being Lord
and then turn around
and call God the Father Lord.
Following that line of reasoning,
why don’t we ever call the Holy Spirit Lord?
Calling you, “God,”
doesn’t feel right either.
too formal…
too distant…
like addressing a business letter
“to whom it may concern.”
Divine Mystery is as
close as I’ve ever come
to understanding you,
but it makes for clunky conversation
I need your help with this, ________.
How is it that I am so sure of you,
but don’t know what to call you?
It’s like having a secret Santa
or a blind date.
Rote Christian prayers are full of names
and characteristics for you:
Father
God of Power and Might
Creator of Heaven and Earth
Holy Spirit
Messiah
Almighty and Eternal
Christ Child
Heavenly King
Savior of the World
Supreme Being
Paraclete
Abba
Son of God
When I recite rote prayers
I am warmly wrapped up
in familiarity and tradition.
They unite me to generations,
to centuries of religious heritage,
which feels like home,
smells like coffee,
and tastes like pumpkin pie.
But praying rote prayers
is like pledging allegiance to the flag.
I’m reciting the formal text of my people,
which is layered with meaning
and has its place in my life,
but these are not the intimate heart-to-heart words
I want to use in a deeply personal conversation.
I want a love relationship with you.
I know you are beyond my understanding,
but I also know that I have experienced
moments of oneness with your:
formless goodness,
mystical otherness,
patient, abiding, intelligent, Spirit.
This writing my prayers idea may work out.
I just noticed that I used the
words “you” or “your”
twelve times while trying to
figure out how to relate to you properly.
So for now,
the name I seem to have
for you is… “YOU.”
This reminds me of a song
that’s been stuck in my head all week,
and, as you well know,
was made popular by the great Nina Simone:
*Birds flying high
YOU know how I feel.
Sun in the sky
YOU know how I feel.
Breeze driftin’ by
YOU know how I feel.
It’s a new dawn
It’s a new day
It’s a new life for me.
And I’m feelin’ good.
*Feeling Good, Anthony Newley and Leslie Bricusse
From: The Roar of the Greasepaint – the Smell of the Crowd
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