I dreamed last night I was with someone I knew in high school. I the outsider. He the popular one. Castes crossed because we were both Christians.
"I'm sorry," I told him.
"Why?"
We were sitting on my front porch and I closed my eyes to concentrate on the rich, deep ringing of wind chimes. "I just am."
"But why?" Still. Quiet. Intense as he was on the beach.
I was there on my porch and yet there on the beach during the senior choir trip. I was a senior, so the principal made me be included on the trip. Yet I was not allowed to be in the senior choir. I sang with the sophomore girls. Even they did not want me because I was a senior. All I wanted to do was sing.
On the trip, he was the only one who talked with me. At one point, one of the senior girls walked over to where we were sitting and asked him, "Why are you talking to her?"
"I look at you and think of all the things I didn't do then because of where I was. I look at you and think of all the things I cannot do now because of where I am."
"Do you want to pray with me?"
Spontaneous prayer I miss it. Deeply. I thought. I miss holding another's hand and going together before God. Even though I have Christian visitors, no one ever prays with me anymore. "I'm a Lutheran now. I don't pray that way any more."
Spontaneous prayer I miss it. Deeply. I thought. I miss holding another's hand and going together before God. Even though I have Christian visitors, no one ever prays with me anymore. "I'm a Lutheran now. I don't pray that way any more."
"You don't? How do you pray?"
"I pray the Psalter. I have 150 prayers that speak the words of my heart to pray."
"I don't read psalms."
"I didn't used to either. I didn't understand their riches, their mercy."
We sat in silence for a while.
"I have a neurological disease, two actually, that is ravaging my mind and body. I do not know if I will be here in two years or ten. I do not know which will go first, my body or my mind. I fear the latter." Oh, how I fear the latter. "I think the truth is that I spend most of my time looking at the end of life that I find it difficult being in the now ... here ... with anyone."
His response to my announcement was not what I thought it would be. "You have a birthday coming up. Shall I sing to you now?"
In my mind, I doubted he knew how much I crave to hear that song. I was so very, very jealous in high school, watching everyone else have their lockers decorated for their birthdays, have that song sung to them throughout the day. The carnation distributions on spirit days and my empty desk. The valentine grams that never once came my way.
"Yes. My birthday is coming up. But a few weeks after that is my baptismal birthday." I wish there was a song for that. I didn't even get a cake then.
He gave me a quizzical look, "But you were in Young Life, Campaigner's bible study..."
"And youth group and the college group and a missionary. I was never baptized. I stood by a river with a bunch of Christians as an eleven-year-old to announce that I had accepted Jesus into my heart. Someone read to me about Jesus and I believed. That day, there was water and the Word of God (in the bibles we all held). That was my profession of faith. I didn't understand what baptism was at eleven. As the years passed, the part of me that reflected upon that day, upon my profession of faith, was terrified I was a fraud because of all the times I struggled with sin, with doubt, with shame. When I finally learned about baptism, I was terrified every moment of every day that I was going to die before. The part of me that learned was terrified that I would die before I could convince my pastor I needed to be baptized. I nearly did. Die. And then I was. Baptized."
Again, his response was not what I expected. "Why am I here?"
Why was he? I had not seen him in over two decades. I doubt he even remembers who I am. And then I knew.
"Driving around in a truck where I could watch the ground fly by beneath my feet because of a hole in the floorboard was one of the best times of my life then. I never thanked you for that."
"You are welcome."
And he then was gone. I was alone on the bench listening to the chimes.
I wish I could actually tell him. I wish he could know what a mercy he showed me by ignoring my outsider caste and reaching out to the awkward, confused, and wounded girl I was. We were not friends. But there were a few moments when he looked at me and simply saw a sister in Christ. He spoke to me. We talked about Jesus. We prayed together. And he gave me rides in that glorious, battered, old white truck.
"Thank you," I repeated, hearing my own voice break the silence in my bedroom as I awoke.
[Oh, how I miss praying with others.]
I am Yours, Lord. Save me!
2 comments:
Do you really think Lutherans don't pray spontaneous prayers, or was that just part of your dream? I've always presumed the Holy Spirit speaks to the Father in words other than the Psalter when He intercedes for us. I've never heard the Psalter taught as the only Lutheran way to pray.
It sounds to me like you did get to say thank you to him. He just couldn't hear you. :)
I supposed I don't really have the right words to express this, but I do believe that Lutherans do not pray spontaneously with others ... at least not outside of family.
I went from a Christian life where I regularly read the Bible and prayed with other Christians most any time I spent with one to not at all. With Lutherans, I have only really prayed with others twice (two couples), one of which were converts like me. I had that seminary couple last summer that prayed the offices of prayer with me several times and then there was the convert-couple in Alexandria who prayed with me, but that was also largely my teaching them the offices I was learning, the hymns I learned (and have forgotten now), and what I was reading in the Book of Concord. Those nights were fun, but they were filled with my teaching ... the blind leading the blind.
When I ask Lutherans to pray with me, I get such a negative response, I have stopped asking. Prayer seems to be a personal thing reserved only for the Liturgy of services at church and for devotions with immediate family members.
I miss gathering for prayer. Deeply. I miss praying with people on the phone. I miss people coming over and praying as a part of the visit. I miss prayer meeting, where we read and sing and pray for those present, the church, the community. I miss praying with others.
We had baptisms last week, which was great to watch, but because of the baptisms, we had neither the introit, confession/absolution, nor the creed. I actually started weeping when we I realized I would not be hearing the confession of faith ringing around me.
I know that a lot of Lutherans do not even think of, much less use, the Psalter as a book of prayer the way I do. But I have also not interacted with any one who prayed anything that was not written (many sources, but written down already). The very, very, very few exceptions have been a brief few words for me, such as when a pastor prayed for me during a visit or when I was at the hospital.
One example, I sang in a small group that toured NC when I was getting my Master's. We practiced 2 or 3 times a week and prayed for about a hour before starting. We also prayed for about an hour before each performance, together as a group. And the churches where we sang always had food for us after ... and times of praying together.
It was a shock for me, a true culture shock, when I realized Lutherans did not pray together outside of what I guess I would call a formal occasion (a service or bible study) or outside of their family. Each day, each month that passes, I miss regularly praying with others more deeply. I would not trade the pure doctrine for that fellowship of prayer, but the loss is sometimes almost too difficult to bear.
It was a truly strange and sad dream.
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