Prayer of a Refugee

Someone needs to teach me how to pray.

Last Sunday's prayer gathering was one of the most calming experiences I've had at church in a long time. I don't know if it was because I'd spent the previous weekend in nature, or because of the low lights and soothing music, but I felt deeply quiet when I left the service.

But I still don't think I know how to pray.

I went around to many of the prayer stations, and was interested in all the focusing activities I had never thought of trying. I think the labyrinth might be a great fit for me—all the winding and curving but in a purposeful way—or maybe the exercise of gathering and spilling water into a bowl. I spent much of the service meditating about the idea of prayer, rather than doing any kind of actual praying.

There's this hole in me when I think of praying. For much of my adult life, the concept of prayer has evaded me. I just never could find a connection when praying. And I have always felt that way, especially, about praying with other people. The difficulties in my life over the past few years have only exaggerated those feelings.

Or maybe they haven't. Maybe the tough things in my life have made me more ready for prayer.

At this point, there is nothing but a void in my heart when I approach God. There's no liturgy or ritual left, no formula for my faith. And maybe that's the best place to start a prayer life. In the gap, in the fear.

I recently purchased some prayer beads because of a friend. They have been helpful to me on one level, providing a physical connection for this internal activity. I just sit with the beads sometimes, occasionally repeating a comforting Bible verse, occasionally not. I'm guessing this is the moment that some nice Christian will say something about "the spirit interceding for us with groans we don't understand." And of course I hope this is true. But is it? And is this how the experience will always be for me—unformed, primal?

What is prayer? What is it for? How do I do it in a way that is both honoring to God and substantial for me?

The hope that I have is that although I am completely lost on this matter, I keep coming back and trying it. I have no idea why I do this, considering how easy it would be not to. I certainly don't feel obligated any more. But there is something in me that wants to pray. Not in the lots-of-words kind of praying, but in the here-I-am-Lord-now-what? kind of way.

But, really... now what? I just keep following that gut feeling in me, hoping it will lead somewhere. But at this point it's still just a feeling.
-Laura Baker