Pastures and Valleys

During a sermon, our English pastor said that of all the books on prayer he has read, A Praying Life by Paul Miller is the only one that actually helped him pray. Plenty were great books which helped him better understand prayer, but this relatively short text brought him to his knees.

I started Paul Miller's prayer journey while on vacation in Germany and just finished it next to our house's new and still-naked Christmas tree this afternoon, and so far I agree. I pray more. By God's grace, I am confident that I will continue to do so (I know, I know - ask me in a few weeks).

The last book on prayer I started was Richard Foster's beautifully-written Prayer, which moves from elementary to graduate school level praying. I quit half way through. I write this blushing; I'm not proud. I learned good things about prayer, and I gained wisdom from the saints, and Foster's one of the few living Christian writers whose prose is worth the price of admission. But with each chapter came a new level of method and petition that was not going to happen in my life, between early rises and baby cries, Metro rides and computer screens, work, church, marriage, rest, reading, writing.

I read With Christ in the School of Prayer when I lived in Germany several years ago. How I remember it, it was almost the opposite of Foster's book - plenty of passion with less method. My own passion was inadequate to the challenge, and I put the book down feeling tired and thirsty. A good posture for prayer given my need, except I didn't pray any more than I did when I started.

Given my history, I was reluctant to start another one, even after my mom, my pastor and my wife all said I should read A Praying Life. My mom even bought us a copy. The tag line on the back cover, "Let's Face It, Prayer Is Hard!" did nothing to encourage me. It sounds like the squeaky slogan of some Christian salesman who is about to insist that it really isn't hard. "Shields up!" I thought.

If what I just wrote resonates with you, ignore the cynical instincts that protect the old wounds of misplaced hope. Read a book by someone whose experience, suffering and growing care for others has taught him to pray. Paul Miller, without pretense or arrogance, presents himself as someone we can learn from, not because he is an ueber-saint but because he is human. And yes, he honestly and graciously addresses cynicism, wounds and hope deferred.

Here are a few reasons I could stick with A Praying Life. First, he acknowledges reality and reminds us of God's grace. He gently reminds us that in our imperfections, our distracted minds (mine seems particularly prone to distraction), God loves and will meet us in our imperfect offerings. In one chapter, he describes his morning prayer routine. It requires coffee and is interrupted by his autistic daughter and conversations with his wife. No matter. God meets him there, anyway.

Second, Miller keeps us from chasing the rainbow's end called "experience God," and instead reminds us that prayer is to build a relationship. God is there, whether or not we are "feelin' it," and prayer is our way to build nearness and intimacy to One whose love beyond all our asking and imagining.

Many of Miller's prayers are people focused, which helps me. Rather than formula's or recipes, he shows how he prays for his family, his friends, the lost He shows how that in praying for others, he can trust God with them. In doing so, his trust in God grows, as does his love for others. None of the prayer books I've read took me in such specific and intimate prayer journeys.

I could go on, but read the book instead. If it does not help you pray, put it back on the shelf or give it to someone else this Christmas. But I suspect it will. I am thankful for A Praying Life. In it, Miller not only tells but shows how the Lord is our shepherd, how he is there in green pastures and dark valleys.

Royalty

I watch my daughter, nearly eleven months old, struggle to crawl. She is on the floor between wonderful old German toys, the kind of toys that make adults weep for an idyllic past but, if memory serves me, puzzle children. Why these antiquities when there are wonderful, colorful things advertised on television?

In any case, my daughter is too young to be seduced by the boob tube. For her, nothing is antiquated. Everything is something new, to be held, examined, touched, tasted. In particular, any mirror is absolutely enthralling. Magically smooth and cold, sometimes containing images of a smiling waiving Papa, Mama, Oma or Opa, always containing that beautiful, baby girl with deep brown eyes who smiles back and imitates her every movement. Such wonder is just worth a rigorous crawl across the rug in the living room. It's not easy, almost unnatural, requiring plenty of grunts and coos along the way, but she makes progress, just learning to crawl on those soft little arms.

Sometimes she stops. She sits up, which always brings her a foot or two back, and sucks her thumb with a frowned expression. Sometimes the expression is, "Keep going, you can do it." Sometimes it is, "well, good try, ol' sport, but enough of that." I can never tell until she either continues her quest, or, thumb still in her mouth, she fixes her attention on an object within her grasping range. Or, she looks at me, waives her arms and with a part-cry, part-squeal, demands to be picked up. There are, after all, quicker ways from point A to point B.

In all this, I reflect that I am royalty. With all my problems, with the weight of life, responsibility, future, money, relationship and other uncertain necessities, I ask myself, what a kingly privilege to be the father of a near-eleven month old girl, who crawls, babbles and explores between wonderful old German toys. What have I conquered, in what great city have I celebrated my triumph, with parades of chariots and golden scepters, to have deserved such a prize?

Fraport

Earlier this week, my wife, daughter and I landed in Frankfurt Airport, owned and operated by Fraport, which is fun to say and looks good on the local soccer team's jersey. If you are a world traveler, chances are, you've been there too. Fraport is sort of an industrial Wonderland maze of stainless steel and colored lights. It somehow feels both unmanageably huge and cramped at the same time, like hidden passages in the Death Star or the layer of a 60's James Bond villain. Can't you picture Bond, pistol in hand, bikinied foreigner by his side, racing through the passages to dismantle some sort of exotic weapon of mass destruction before it's too late?

And yet, in spite of these discomforts, I love it there. There's no other building that awakens my Reiselust in the same way. Fraport is a journeyman engine moving travelers of all kinds, uniting us briefly along the way to Munich, Chicago or Johannesburg. The silver labyrinth somehow produces people of every size, shape and color, every tongue, tribe and nation. Stressed but determined, tired but adventurous, business suits, sweat pants, hijabs, high heels, jeans, cowboy boots, turbans, baseball caps. All of us, regardless of where we come from, united in that we are going somewhere, pulling, pushing and bearing our belongings with expectation.

My Father's Robe

It's been edifying to read Valley of Vision, a collection of Puritan prayers compiled by Arthur Bennett. Puritan prayers are great because the puritans are of the "Big God party," and each word is carefully and generously bathed in His wonder and majesty. They really believed that God is eternal, present and very involved, and reading them helps me to do the same. I commend it to you - try a few prayers on for yourself see if love and holiness, grace and truth are, to your senses, larger and nearer.

The book is divided into sections under different themes (Trinity, Redemption and Reconciliation, etc...), and I have assigned a different theme to each day of the week. The reason I do it this way, rather than just read the prayers straight through, is I do not believe I could survive reading the "Penitence and Deprecation" section all at once. As it is P&D are confined to Tuesdays. A fair criticism of Puritans and personal difficulty (among several) I have with them is that in their emphasis on Total Depravity, there can be so much self-flagellation that the reader forgets that by another's stripes we have been healed. It is worth and necessary to weep and morn in our repentance, we cannot taste Grace and remain somber.

But on this particular Tuesday I prayed a beautiful prayer that I wanted to share, mostly for the imagery. Feel, for a moment, your sin as garments caked with filth indescribable (at least in a family-friendly blog), and feel yourself washed clean, and clothed in the Father's robe (if you own Valley of Vision, it's on page 76):

"I am always standing clothed in filthy garments, and by grace I am always receive change of raiment, for thou dost always justify the ungodly

I am always going into the far country, and always returning home as a prodigal, always saying, Father, forgive me, and thou art always bringing forth the best robe.

Every morning, let me wear it, every evening return in it, go out to the day's work in it, be married in it, be wound in death in it, stand before the great white throne in it, enter heaven in it shining as the sun.

Grant me never to lose sight of the exceeding sinfulness of sin, the exceeding righteousness of salvation, the exceeding glory of Christ, the exceeding beauty of holiness, the exceeding wonder of grace."

A Request

Can we please hold off on public displays of Christmas until the Advent season actually begins? Or at least until the day after Thanksgiving?

Not to be a Scrooge, but as the Fed tries to prevent economic deflation, our own country has begun to suffer from Christmas cheer inflation. Holiday colors have been out at retailers since mid-October, and they turned on the carols as soon as the spider webs and jack-o-lanterns were taken down. I can't go shopping without seeing unwanted visions of sugar plumbs and prematurely decked halls. Call me weak, but I'm not sure of my poor lungs can handle a three month sprint of holiday hustle and bustle.

Yes, I realize that finishing Christmas shopping and decorating before Veterans Day allows the American woman to achieve Martha Stewart Nirvana, where household, hosting and holiday turn blissfully in a gingerbread-smelling ethereal plane.

Yes, I realize that troubled retailers are desperately competing to get you in the holiday shopping spirit as soon as possible.

Yes, I realize that in troubled economic times like these, the best response is to buy early and often to get our nation back in the black.

But one of the things that makes a holiday special is the simple fact that it doesn't happen all year long. The more something happens, the less special it is. And considering the weight of what this holiday actually symbolizes, i.E. God Himself, entering the world for redemption and rescue, wouldn't it be worth it to keep the wonder, a bit more confined, and therefore more potent?

Questions for "The Social Network", or Billionaires Are People Too

As a film, few have anything bad to say about "The Social Network." Critics and audiences love it (HT Ross Douthat for the link). The actors, writers and director are excellent, I read. I haven't seen the film yet, and I would honestly like to, more to be a part of the conversation than to think that I would enjoy it. (I've seen much less films in the theaters since my daughter was born, so I may have to wait until it hits my local library)

The haunting previews made me wonder if the film's marketers thought I would be attracted to a take-down of Facebook's wildly successful founder, Mark Zuckerberg (though I love the boy's choir version of "Creep" by Radiohead). He comes across as part Shakespearian tyrant and part insolent teenager with enough computer geek thrown in to remind you of what he does. This probably does not paint the whole picture, of course. News services are doing their due diligence about "The Social Network's" accuracy. I've read mixed reports as to whether or not Zuckerberg himself will see (or has seen) the film, but I'd understand it if he didn't. Imagine if those who disliked or did not understand you made a film inflating the worst parts of your character? Would it help that the critics were salivating?

Given the city I live in, perhaps this bothers me too much. Politics and everything public are a dirty sport, and those involve can expect to "make a few enemies" as the film, smirking, points out. But I can't help but wonder if, what if I were the subject slanderous books describing my childhood, or with protesters carrying my portrait with superimposed Hitler mustache. Yes, the film probably won't ultimately hurt Zuckerberg. He has enough money to stuff his mattress with thousand dollar bills and completely retire from public life. And yes, I'm sure his rise to the top isn't without story and controversy. But I hope the biopic is fairer than the previews and critiques indicate. Whatever the sins and temptations that come from wealth, success and influence, they do not shield us from humanity. Those who make films, write columns or scrawl unaccountable words in cyberspace should keep that in mind.

Love College

The New York Times has some great advice from graduate assistants on how undergraduates can make the most of their college experience. As someone who continues to interact with students, I'd like to share a few of my own thoughts. Much of what's written below could be filed under "woulda shoulda coulda" for this B.A. holder:

1. Just say no to Starbucks, Chili's, Johnny Rocket's or any other restaurant, coffee shop, or bar you could find anywhere else in America. If you want to watch the creative energy of competitive small business, look at all the dining places that spring up and die around college campuses. Coffee shops, cup cake trends, creative pubs, sushi - the resources for a culinary adventure are within walking distance from your dorm. College is a chance to develop expand your taste for strange food, foreign beer and locally grown veggies. Taco Bell is for high school students. It's time to grow into something more interesting.
2. Travel. Of course, you're reading words from a man who fell in love with a foreigner and the foreign country she came from. But even before that (and, for me, before college) travel broadened my mind and added to my education in a way a classroom never could. Study abroad. Go on a mission trip or a service project. Believe me, you won't have your kind of energy five years from now. Don't sit around campus; see the world.
3. Hang out with international students. I loved getting to know people from Japan, India, Germany, France and Palestine at my university's international coffee hour. I volunteered as an English language partner for the university's intensive English study center. International students not only bring you new perspectives, but it is fascinating to meet those who are willing to get their education under completely new contexts. While your at it, take your international friend home to meet your parents. Only 10% of international students see the inside of an American home (college apartments don't count), and those that do count it as one of the experiences that had the most impact on their time in the States.
4. Protest. Chances are that during your four years the government will do something that goes against your deepest values. Join the throngs, make a sign, paint your face and practice democracy.
5. While your at it, vote. The voter turn out for young people is embarrassing. Don't forget to register, and don't forget to mail your ballot in. Even if you don't like the candidates, write something in or choose the lesser of two evils. Politicians pay attention to who votes, and if your particular demographic is underrepresented, they will not cater to you.
6. Get to know your professors. I could perhaps say "network" with your professors, but that sound so impersonal and utilitarian. Now, that being said, one of the reasons I wished I had done more of this was to get those recommendations for jobs or grad school. But don't have the posture of someone who is merely looking for career stepping stones. Your professors have worked hard to know and understand interesting things to share with you, and they will be all to happy to pass along what they know beyond their planned lectures. Visit them in their office hours to talk not just about your grades but about their expertise. Ask questions during class, and engage them after class. You won't regret it.
7. Know thyself. Had I better known myself, there's a lot I would have done differently. Plenty of folks my age say the same. Find out how you are wired - personality tests at your college career center will help with this, as will a part time job in the professional world. Find where your gifts lie through trial and error, but once you have them, aggressively pursue majors and careers that will best use them.
8. Don't skimp the economics classes, especially if you are in the social sciences. As an idealistic international relations major, I took the bare minimum requirement of economics (as an aside, an international relations degree should have required more econ than what ours did). I was turned off by the math, the charts, the terms (note to all economics teachers - you'll help your students if you explain the concepts before getting them to memorize the terms) and the fact that macroeconomics seemed like selfishness 101. Alas, economics are the vegetables of international affairs, political science, history, journalism and so many other interesting fields. Any graduate program worth its salt requires at least 12 hours of it. The policy world runs on it. You will be much more useful to the developing world if you understand it. So, hold your breath and learn it well. Get a college subscription to the Economist and read how interesting international economics can be. The dismal science is a science worth knowing, for all of us.
9. If you go to church, go to a church with families. You'll get more out of it if you gain mentors with gray hair and get to interact with their kids. If you never went to church, why not give it a shot? Ask a student in your local campus ministry to take you.
10. Take as many classes as you can, especially if you are on scholarship. Believe me, now that I am in the working world, I wish I could take more classes.
11. Turn four into more. So many students I meet literally consider themselves too cool for school. They lean back and with a resigned, impatient expression talk about how they can't wait to get out in the real world and make some money. Don't worry. The real world will still be there after another year, and you'll be with it until retirement. If you have the resources, take an extra major, pursue a graduate degree, work-study, stay for that extra football season. Unless you are deep in debt (something you should try to avoid), you won't regret getting too much education. Only too little. I personally would have added a communications degree to round out my international affairs qualifications. 20/20 hindsight.

What are your tips?