Paradigms of prayer--Linger
Gaze, ponder, linger. Some of my favorite contemplative activities revolve around these 3. To linger is an artform in itself. Sometimes meditation is described as "focused attention". I think there is also a meditation, or contemplative prayer, that could better be described as "focused inattention."
There are moments in life beyond description, and beyond words. They can not be contrived or created. One can work to create an environment conducive to them, but they still arrive completely on their own schedule. They are totally gifts of God. A call from a friend we haven't heard from in quite a while. Someone cooking your favorite meal without you asking. A look from a loved one demonstrating their love for you. These spontaneous moments come and go, as quickly as a brief moment in time.
Prayer can be the same. James Finley in "The Contemplative Heart" calls it spontaneous contemplative experience. I occasionally practice what is commonly known as centering prayer. The idea is to quiet the mind in solitude and stillness, and focus not on thoughts but simply the presence of God. Occasionally, these times led to a renewed hearfelt awareness of the presence of God, or a contemplative experience. But more often than not for me, as Finley describes, the contemplative experience is spontaneous.
I'm busy at work only to peer out a window at the clouds outside, and sense them saying "Here I am Jeff, the beauty of God, remember?" Or I'm out of breath on a hike to turn and see a scenic vista calling my heart to prayer. During liturgy my spirit is suddenly stirred to the presence of God as we sing "Let us who mystically represent the cherubim and who sing the thrice Holy hymn to the life-creating trinity now lay aside all earthly care."
These moments of spontaneous contemplative experience can be so deep, yet so fleeting. Like trying to catch a falling leaf, or cup water in ones hand, they are ever so momentary and then they are gone. The trick I am learning of the experience, is to linger. Not to try and capture the moment forever, or hold onto it actively. But simply to accept it, focus on it, and bask in the present moment. Not worrying about how long will it last or when will it end, but gratefully accepting it as a gift of God. The danger in times past was to categorize it, and try and file it away for a more opportune time. But I'm learning there is no more opportune time to experience the contemplative awareness of God than at the moment He grants it. And so I linger.
There are moments in life beyond description, and beyond words. They can not be contrived or created. One can work to create an environment conducive to them, but they still arrive completely on their own schedule. They are totally gifts of God. A call from a friend we haven't heard from in quite a while. Someone cooking your favorite meal without you asking. A look from a loved one demonstrating their love for you. These spontaneous moments come and go, as quickly as a brief moment in time.
Prayer can be the same. James Finley in "The Contemplative Heart" calls it spontaneous contemplative experience. I occasionally practice what is commonly known as centering prayer. The idea is to quiet the mind in solitude and stillness, and focus not on thoughts but simply the presence of God. Occasionally, these times led to a renewed hearfelt awareness of the presence of God, or a contemplative experience. But more often than not for me, as Finley describes, the contemplative experience is spontaneous.
I'm busy at work only to peer out a window at the clouds outside, and sense them saying "Here I am Jeff, the beauty of God, remember?" Or I'm out of breath on a hike to turn and see a scenic vista calling my heart to prayer. During liturgy my spirit is suddenly stirred to the presence of God as we sing "Let us who mystically represent the cherubim and who sing the thrice Holy hymn to the life-creating trinity now lay aside all earthly care."
These moments of spontaneous contemplative experience can be so deep, yet so fleeting. Like trying to catch a falling leaf, or cup water in ones hand, they are ever so momentary and then they are gone. The trick I am learning of the experience, is to linger. Not to try and capture the moment forever, or hold onto it actively. But simply to accept it, focus on it, and bask in the present moment. Not worrying about how long will it last or when will it end, but gratefully accepting it as a gift of God. The danger in times past was to categorize it, and try and file it away for a more opportune time. But I'm learning there is no more opportune time to experience the contemplative awareness of God than at the moment He grants it. And so I linger.
posted by Jeff at
1:06 PM
