Book of Common Prayer | think and let think

Devotional:

Acts 2.42

They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.

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“Why don’t you offer the prayer?” This is one of my favorite questions to ask in order to make someone uncomfortable when they least suspect it. I’ll be out at dinner, or some sort of communal function, and the moment right before the host inevitably asks me (as the pastor) to pray, I’ll lean over to someone and say, “Why don’t you offer the prayer?”

The question is often met with a blank expression that quickly morphs into terror. Some people feel like they can’t say no when a pastor asks them to do something so they start to pray; others begin to quake under the anxiety of publically praying though they muster something together; and others just sit there silently waiting (and perhaps praying) for me to start saying something instead.

But the more I’ve done this, the more I’ve realized how harmful it can be. And not just on an interpersonal level regarding the manipulation of the pastor over and against a lay person, but also because it leaves people feeling like they have to be able to make up a prayer and offer it on the spot in order to be a Christian.

Spontaneous and extemporaneous prayers can be difficult and problematic things. Instead of sitting silently and listening for the Spirit we often fill the void with our own words that may have nothing to do with what it means to pray in the first place. We assume that praying has to be original and new every time it happens, but it was not so for the first Christians.

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In the wake of Pentecost, the new coverts “devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.” Notice the definite article: the prayers. They were given prayers to pray and this is entirely different than assuming that everyone can and should be able to make up their own prayers on the spot.

It is a great gift in the church to have prayers from the saints, to be able to look back and use the words that have been used so many times (and will continue to be used long after we’re gone) because sometimes we don’t have the right words to pray. Rather than struggling to come up with something on our own we can use the words from the Psalms, or reach for the Book of Common Prayer, or even read the words from a beloved hymn. Those words are our prayers, they are the prayers, and they have been given to us. Thanks be to God for providing the words of prayer when we cannot find them on our own.

Devotional:

Luke 1.78-79

By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.

It was on my first day in seminary when a preacher said, “We spend so much time talking about Jesus that we forget to talk to Jesus.” It was a convicting truth that would come to fruition over the following months and I knew I needed to do something about it. Days would pass and, though I had been deep in scripture for particular class, I realized that I had not taken the time to pray to the Lord who was being revealed to me in the scripture. It was at that point when I committed to attend Morning Prayer in Goodson Chapel with all of the Anglicans and Episcopalians.

I was one of the token Methodists with a few of my denominational colleagues and we tried to keep up with our peers as they bowed their heads at particular times during the liturgy, as they made the sign of the cross across their bodies, and as they drank from a common cup when we had communion. It was difficult to assimilate during those first few weeks; many of the people in attendance did not even need to look at a Book of Common Prayer to say all of the right words at the right time. However, after a few months passed, I started to realize that I no longer needed to look at the book because the words and habits of Morning Prayer had sunk deep into my soul.

I don’t remember when it happened, but one morning while we were proclaiming the words from “The Song of Zechariah” (Benedictus Dominus Deus) the young man next to me changed some of the words. Instead of speaking in the plural, he spoke individually: “By the tender mercy of my God, the dawn from on high will break upon me, to give light to me as I sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide my feet into the way of peace.” His willingness to proclaim God’s faithful words for himself, has stuck with me ever since.

During this season of Advent, it is good and right for us to recognize that God made good on his promise “to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death” when he came in the form of flesh as a baby in a manger. We spend these weeks patiently waiting, just like the Israelites did so long ago, for the light that will shine in the darkness. But this isn’t just something that God did in the past; every Advent is an opportunity to embark on a new way of life where God’s tender mercy will guide our feet into the way of peace.

This week, let us take time to proclaim the words from The Song of Zechariah personally. Whether in the morning when we wake up, or at night before we fall asleep, or whenever we feel called to during the day, let us proclaim: “By the tender mercy of my God, the dawn from on high will break upon me, to give light to me as I sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide my feet into the way of peace.”