Pastor heard my confession this evening--something that I have been wanting very much. I had waiting for him a sticky note of that which is troubling me. I had also taken a shower before he came, in part, so that I was not alone when trying to swallow the sight of the pile of hair from this day.

Usually, he has some great lesson during his teaching part of the liturgy, but his first response was: That was a lot! It is true; much has been troubling me. He did speak to me of the Gospel, but I cannot really remember a single word. At one point, he was counting off things that are true and not lie and I wished I had swept up a pen to write them down.

Afterward, he tried to talk with me about prayer again. At one point, I thought I heard something, I thought I understood where I was wrong, where I was right. It was a glimpse I fervently hope returns. What made me chuckle is that he told me he had ordered me a book to read! I had indulged in Luther's Reading the Psalms during Concordia Publishing House's 140th Anniversary sale because I am trying to learn about prayer and Luther oft wrote about praying the Psalter, so I figured his notes might be good to read. Pastor ordered me the book that inspired his meditations on prayer that he sent out via In Touch last year.

I had asked him to tell me what prayer is in 50 words or less. What he wrote is simply beautiful in construction, and absolutely moving in Truth...though part troubles me so.

What is prayer?

Prayer is the voice of faith.

Faith that is created and fed by the Word, cries out to its source - that same Word now made flesh. For faith speaks what it hears. Prayer comes not from ourselves, but from the faith given to us.

And so faith cries out for all that is needed, for all that is needed has been promised by God.
Faith cries out in thanksgiving, for all that is given is given by God.
Faith cries out in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, in good times and in bad, for ourselves and for others, for all things are in His hands.

If our faith falters, so too do our prayers falter.
Then the Word comes with forgiveness to raise our faltering faith and give us life and hope again.
And the voice of faith cries out again.
Never perfect,
until faith is needed no more, when our voices are joined to the choir of angels in the hymn of praise that has no end.

Until then, we live by faith.
And faith speaks in prayer.

Since June, it has been as if what I thought I knew about prayer has been transformed from crystal clear water all about me to a thick slab of opaque glass between me and understanding. In all honestly, I have shifted away from praying in my words to those of the psalmists.

Prayer, for me, has been a conversation, the perfect conversation, one where you can be completely honest, where you can stand before the Other completely void of pretense and yet be absolutely safe. It is the conversation that always leaves you richer for the exchange, that fills the darkness with light, the cold with warmth.

He knows all and yet desires to hear me speak even so! He longs for it. He never tires of my stories, my worries, my weaknesses. Into His keeping, I can pour out the moments of my life and place that of those around me. Indeed, into His hands I can place the whole world!

For me, there was a certitude in prayer that remained no matter how miserably I failed in enlarging my own faith--something I now understood Christ never expects of us. Not as a work of mine, for that would surely have failed! But as a gift. A mighty gift to which I could cling without doubt.

So, why the struggle now?

Before he left, Pastor sang this hymn to me. I am sure that you will understand why I like it. I tried to find the tune online so that I could learn it, but the only one I found has far, far too many notes in it for me to hear the melody. When he finished, I immediately wanted him to sing it again.

Praise the One Who Breaks the Darkness

Praise the One who breaks the darkness with a liberating light;
Praise the One who frees the pris'ners turning blindness into sight.
Praise the One who preached the Gospel, Healing ev'ry dread disease,
Calming storms, and feeding thousands with the very Bread of peace.

Praise the One who blessed the children with a strong, yet gentle, word;
Praise the One who drove out demons with the piercing, two-edged sword.
Praise the One who brings cool water to the desert's burning sand;
From this well comes living water, quenching thirst in ev'ry land.

Let us praise the Word Incarnate, Christ, who suffered in our place.
Jesus died and rose victorious that we may know God by grace.
Let us sing for joy and gladness, seeing what our God has done;
Let us praise the true Redeemer, Praise the One who makes us one.

Before he walked out the door, Pastor gave me a blessing.

Thanks be to God that, in His infinite mercy, I have more peace, in this moment, than I have had in months. For the first time in my life, I understand, even for just a short while, John 14:27:

Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives, do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful.

While I fervently wish I could tell you why, what truth permeated the turmoil I face, I cannot. Perhaps it was the sum of this evening: Confession. Absolution. Teaching. Hymn. Blessing.