Prayer: Practicing the Presence of God

Photo of The Rev. Canon Joe Behen by The Rev. Canon Joe Behen

Today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles leaves us sitting with the apostles, praying with them in the upper room; praying to discern God’s Spirit.  This Spirit will of course overwhelm them and forever change their lives.  And it will mark for them the beginning of a new phase in their journey with Christ.  But for today, they gather, and pray.  Notice, if you will, the conspicuous word found near the end of this reading.  The disciples and those gathered with them are said to be “constantly” devoting themselves to prayer.  It seems that whatever discernment of the spirit there was, came from this constant prayer.  Reminds me of Paul’s direction to the Thessalonians to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17).  But how does that work?  How would a person pray all the time without stopping?  We’ll come back to this thought in a moment.

On one of my first Sundays here at the cathedral after I was ordained, a little guy, maybe three or four years old, came to the communion rail with his mother.  He saw me coming around with bread, and I think he must have wondered if there would be a piece for him, or if he’d be passed by.  I offered him a host and said, “The body of…” That’s all I was able to get out, when he snatched it from my hand, turned to his horrified mother, and said, “Look mom!  I got one!”  His poor mother turned three colors of red and looked up at me apologetically.  I said, “It’s ok – if only we all received with such joy.”

I think that what fascinates me in watching our little people in church, is the fact that they tend not to differentiate between behavior at church, and behavior elsewhere.  All of us eventually learn “church behavior”, but sometimes I wonder at what cost.

In other words, how does it come to be, that we feel the presence of the holy in this place, but less so away from here?

My guess is that this speaks to us all, about the need to take another step in our journey through life, in the Spirit’s presence.  There is a very real sense in which we want to be near God.  We wouldn’t be here otherwise.  But it may also be true, that we can’t bear His presence, face to face, for too long.  The intensity of God’s presence makes us see ourselves more truthfully than we are comfortable with.  We have to turn away, to have our own space, in which we can breathe somewhat easier.  But, to continue on this journey that we’ve begun, means coming to grips with the fact that, God seems to want to be part of those safe spaces as well.  God refuses to let us keep Him in here, despite our best efforts.

The disciples gathered and prayed.  They prayed that they might discern, or become aware of, the Spirit that Jesus spoke of.  What if praying is a much more expansive project than we’ve imagined?  What if prayer doesn’t look at all like, our calling on God when we’re ready for Him, and then stepping away when He becomes too much?  What if praying is simply becoming aware of God?  What if “praying always” means looking at our refuges, the places where we take our breaks from God, and learning to see God there as well?  Where are those refuges for you?

I really have a hard time talking about prayer at all, without reaching for images of the 17th century monk Brother Lawrence, and his Practice of the Presence of God.  Brother Lawrence “believed it was a serious mistake to think of our prayer time as being different from any other.  Our actions,” he wrote, “should unite us with God when we are involved in our daily activities, just as our prayer unites us with Him in our quiet time.”[1]  An account of the life of Brother Lawrence, written by a close friend shortly after his death, says this: “Everything was the same to him – every place, every job.  The good brother found God everywhere, as much while he was repairing shoes as while he was praying with the community.  He was in no hurry to go on retreats, because he found the same God, to love and adore in his ordinary work, as in the depth of the desert.”[2]

What it gets down to is this: while we find ourselves in God’s presence this morning, we won’t then leave that presence - we may simply leave our awareness of it.  When the Holy Spirit comes to the apostles as they pray in the upper room, they will leave.  But they will leave every bit as much in that presence, as when the tongues of flame danced before their eyes. 

The desire that we have to separate parts of our lives that include God, and those that don’t, is under fire by the writer of the Acts of the Apostles.  The men in white robes want to know of the apostles, why they are standing, staring at the place where they last knew Jesus.  You can nearly hear them saying, “You are no more in his presence here than anywhere, but no less either.”  Then, on, back to Jerusalem.  Here they will be challenged yet again; challenged to find God in gathering together in prayer, but to know Him to be present to the ends of the earth.  When they know him there, so will others there know Him.

Jesus’ disciples continued to gather and to re-gather, constantly praying to discern God’s spirit, God’s presence.  But this discernment didn’t simply end when they went out again.  Their practice of God’s presence caused them to see the entire world and everyone in it to be loved by God.  What else could they do in this presence but to love it as well?  …to feed, to heal, and to love as Jesus had, and to gather and re-gather, all the while remaining, in constant prayer?  God makes no distinction.  Nor do we.

[1] Brother Lawrence.  The Practice of the Presence of God (New Kensington, PA: Whitaker House Publishing, 1982) p. 20
[2] Joseph de Beaufort, from The Practice of the Presence of God (New Kensington, PA: Whitaker House Publishing, 1982) p. 90