The Jesus school of Prayer

I want to go on a journey to learn how to pray. I've been troubled by this desire all my Christian life, and I've decided it's finally time to do something about it.

Those are strange words and they need explaining. After all, I'm a professional Christian, a vicar, a leader of a church. So I should be an expert on prayer, shouldn't I?

Except I know I'm not.

There have been times in my Christian life when God has been so close, so real to me that nothing else compares to the delight of knowing him and being known. At such times, there was nothing I would rather do than stay in his presence.

But they never last. Most of the time, I'm too distracted, busy, tired, lazy, or all four to lift a finger to try and find my way back to his shining presence. Then I feel ashamed of myself, and say angrily, “What kind of a Christian am I? Do I believe this God stuff or not? Why can't I make myself live it?”

That's a bit harsh. I'm not all bad. But I'm not all good either. I struggle with seeing things through. I've made dozens of fresh starts. Again and again I've said, “This time it will be different. This time I really mean it. This time...”

And what's so different about this time? Only the fact that it's public. Two years ago, I publicly committed myself to reading the Bible through in a year. And to my surprise, I did it. I managed to find time every day to read large chunks of it, even the boring bits. I think the going public helped. It gave me an accountability that I otherwise lacked.

So now I want to invite you to come with me on a journey of prayer. I'm going to be talking about seven different aspects of the God-language that I want to learn, spaced out over a year or more (I'm not sure how long it will take.) I will be introducing each aspect to my church family in a sermon, and committing myself to a series of actions that will help me explore this avenue of prayer for the next month or so. And inviting others to do it with me. During that month, I'll blog and tweet any insights, encouragements or discouragements, then report back and introduce the next chapter.

It's inspired, hopefully by God, but also by Gerard and Chrissie Kelly, who wrote a book called Intimate with the Ultimate in 2009. I'll be using their seven headings, which conveniently all begin with R. I know I'm not a real Christian preacher and teacher, because I can never get my points to all begin with the same letter. 

Anyway, on this journey we'll be looking at prayer that's

Relational

Rhythmic

Restless

Rich

Reciprocal

Rooted

Revolutionary

Come with me. Let's see where the journey takes us.

8 o'clock Spirituality

Every Sunday I crawl out of bed an hour and a half earlier than I would choose to, and sit in my freezing study getting ready for the 8am Communion.
My Twitter companions at this hour are a collection of fellow Anglican clergy, for I strongly suspect that no other Christians have this peculiar tradition.

Long ago, in a galaxy far away, a friend and I had a conversation that went along these lines: "When I'm a vicar the first thing I'll do is abolish the 8 o'clock Communion." But I've never done so, and I would never dream of it.
Non-Anglicans are probably thinking that we're mad. But perhaps you too have shivered in a muddy field at 6am, while an off key trumpeter leads a bleary congregation in a threadbare rendering of "Thine be the glory."

Yes, the Easter Sunrise Service. Another example of Christian Masochism at its best.

Taking communion fasting, is I suppose an example of this. The idea is that the first thing that should pass your lips on Sunday morning should be the bread and the wine - as a way of saying that God comes first in my life. So, in that respect, going to the 8 o'clock communion is in fact a way of taking it easy and cutting yourself some slack.
However, it can also be a Rule. Rules, with a capital R are not always helpful.
Once, a very intelligent elderly ecclesiastical lawyer confessed to me that he was no longer going to come to church, because he couldn't go out without any food inside him, he was too wobbly. It seemed the perfect example of self inflicted Pharasaism. Why elevate a pious habit into a Rule that cuts you off from worship?

Other 8 o'clockers describe their reason for early attendance in church as "it gets it out of the way."

Gets it out of the way??

Before the really important stuff of life, like washing the car or reading the Sunday papers? Again, a funny way of describing your devotion to the creator of the universe.

Leaving the negative thoughts aside, there is something about the quiet gathering of (nearly always) elderly people walking to church - yes they nearly always walk - that is very special. 8 o'clockers are faithful people.  Vicars often moan about how their congregations only come to church every other week these days. "When I was young," they say, "we went to church twice on a Sunday. Nowadays we have to count ourselves lucky if we see people twice a month!"
Not so the 8 o'clockers. They'll be there, every week. Without fail. Usually half an hour early, for reasons that are completely inexplicable. Why is it that the main morning congregation never arrive more than five minutes before the service is due to start, and usually 5-10 minutes after, while the 8 o'clockers are forming an orderly queue by 7.30?

Once, years ago, the service at the church I belonged to was televised. We were all in place with 20 minutes to go, listening to the countdown before we went live and began to worship, with a rising sense of excitement.

The 8 o'clockers could teach us a thing or two about anticipation and faithfulness.