Tag Archives: Adventures in Prayer

 Chapter 11 is Unceasing Prayer and I believe that I have only begun to experience this.  It is my desire! My passion and dream is to write a book, the book that already exists in my heart and has for nearly ten years, The Sacredness of the Mundane.  How sacred every second is and this topic, this unceasing prayer is the key, the secret, if you will. 
 Foster calls this unceasing prayer breath prayer.  He encourages us to start by creating our own breath prayer (a short, one line prayer that can be said in one breath) and praying it throughout the day:  Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.  Again, he is not speaking of vain repetition, but of a way of centering ourselves continually through the day, to think of God and turn to Him in every moment.  One key I see is Foster’s order of chapters.  First, as he says, we must learn to pray sometime somewhere before we can learn to pray all the time everywhere.  I see this already.  The growth in my daily, set, devotional prayer has led to more breath prayer.  I am far from where I desire to be, but I can see growth!  Praise God!  This is so encouraging. 
 And yes this is not easy.  Brother Lawrence said it took him 10 years before he was truly practicing the presence of God.  But doesn’t anything worthwhile take time and effort and work?!  The result is this, as Foster says: We become less agitated in traffic … we endure the petty frustrations of home and office more easily … we are able to listen to others more intently, quietly … we become more aware of children (and love them more!). 

So, the assignment on this book was a little different than was written in my syllabus (I suppose that’s what I get for getting started the week before class!), so instead of 1.75-2.25 pages I’m supposed to write 175-225 words.  That is a drastic difference.  Basically instead of two pages I’m to write two paragraphs.  So, these entries will get significantly shorter, but I will be also posting other reflective/soul care and thoughtful types of assignments, thoughts, and ideas, so have no fear—plenty of new content is here!

Chapter 10 is about Sacramental Prayer, and I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant.  Basically, he’s exploring and advocating some use of liturgical prayer using Scripture, The Book of Common Prayer, and other aids.  I was struck by his recalling a period in his life where he sought “religionless Christianity”, where he sought to follow after God without “props”—no liturgy, no Eucharist, no church, no preaching, no worship services, no Bible, no set times of prayer, nothing.  What he discovered was that he desperately needed those so-called props to help his wayward heart stay close to the Father!  This reminded  me of a sermon I once heard by the famous Bible expositor Kris Zyp (!).  He spoke on humility and shared an interesting and unexpected twist on it.  He insisted that a mark of humility is our willingness to submit to the rites and rituals that keep us near to God.  To think that we are able to maintain a spiritual depth in our life and grow in Christlikeness without these things is a form of spiritual pride.  That has always stuck with me. 
 One thing I love about going to church with my mother-in-law is the use of liturgy.  I wouldn’t necessarily like it every Sunday, but I do enjoy occasionally it use because, as Foster points out, it keeps us from revolving our entire prayer and religious life around ourselves (as we commonly do in “freestyle” prayer) and the stateliness and formality of liturgy helps us realize that we are in the presence of real Royalty.  Sure, there are plenty of dangers in using liturgy, but we as non-denominational, twenty-something freestylers tend to focus all too often on those and not enough on the benefits.  We criticize what we do not know, so I endeavor to know more about the value of Sacramental Prayer.

Ok, so this post is not technically about prayer … and it’s not about the book on prayer, but it’s about an insight into life that has been pulsing in my heart, that came out of a teaching about prayer.

I’m talking about listening. Last year, I took a counseling class (amazing class!) at Multnomah and we spent week after grueling week learning about effective listening skills. Who would have thought it was that hard?! It is! We are a culture do not listen. We interrupt, finish people’s sentences, look at our watches, get distracted, one-up each other’s stories or constantly draw the conversation back to ourselves, or plan what we’re going to say next while the other person is still finishing their sentences. Today, I started a class on Communication skills for ministry and part of what we talked about was … (hey, let me finish my sentence!) … listening. Then, we had our prayer class today, which I think will probably be the most life-changing class I’ll ever take. Dr. Blom did an exercise. First he had one girl talk to him for 2 minutes about whatever she wanted. He sat across from her and listening intently, saying “mmhmm” and “oh” and all the appropriate listening cues, he nodded and showed emotion and truly cared. Then, he had Jeff talk for 2 minutes about Dutch. As soon as Jeff started talking and sharing, Dr. Blom started glancing at his watch, then he looked at the floor, stood up, shuffled around, looked through some papers, glanced at the clock on the wall, fidgeted some more … you get the point. After one minute Jeff finally said, exasperated, “Forget it! You’re not even listening. I quit.” (He knew what Dr. Blom was doing but it still riled him up.) Dr. Blom went on to explain how sometimes we think that God listens to us like that and our prayer life is affected.

Afterward Jeff and I had a long conversation about listening. Thankfully, neither of us feels like God does that with us. We know He loves us and listens to us intently, but what struck us was how few people we know who truly listen. Like, I can count them on one hand. Secondly, and what’s really scary, is that some of the worst listeners, perhaps the worst listeners, are often pastors! Now, there are a lot of pastors who are great listeners, and I am not pointing fingers because I am one of the worst listeners and that’s why I’m focusing on this area, but it almost seems that the “higher up” the person is, the worse they are at listening. In seminary, I can think of one particular professor who always listens intently and it always amazes me. Even when he’s busy, rushing to teach a class, he’ll stop for a second, and when I’m talking, he’s all there–he’s genuinely listening and engaged in what I’m saying. But some of the spiritual giants in my life, some of the most amazing, wise, godly people I know are some of the poorest listeners. Why is this?

Mostly, I think it is because people are just so busy. Pastors and ministry workers have so many people and there are so many needs that they cannot possibly listen to everyone. But I think what God’s challenging me to do is to be all there when I’m with someone. Tom Jones (some of you know Tom from Corvallis) probably does this better than anyone I’ve ever met. Tom could be rushing to class, but if you stopped and talked to him he was all of a sudden in a zone, his eyes tunneled into yours, he was actively listening, scrunching his eyes in concentration, nodding, “uh-huh”-ing, and taking in every word as if you were the only person on earth. That is amazing to me. I told Jeff, probably more than any other means, I am shown love by someone listening, truly listening, to me. When we finish other’s sentences, say things like “yeah yeah” or “I know, I know” we are basically communicating, “I already know what you’re saying and I don’t love you enough to listen to your thoughts.”

To further illustrate this concept: When Jeff and I got home from seminary tonight (after 10 straight hours of class! Whew!) We ran in the door and cralwed down on our hands and knees to go tackle Dutch and smother him with kisses. Instantly, he wanted to “tell” us all about his day. Now he doesn’t know English yet, but he babbled and babbled, pointing at things and gesturing, and clearly “telling” us all about his day. Of course we listened intently, saying “really?!” and “wow!” and “that’s great, Dutch!” soaking up every word. Did we gain any new information from him? No! Did we already know what he was saying? Yes, gibberish! But did we still actively listen? Of course! Because we absolutely cherish him and love him and want to communicate that to him by listening to him. It is the same with God and it should be the same with us! How amazed people would be if we truly listened to them!

So, my goal is to be known as a listener. I may not be the most insightful, wise, amazing person, but if I can listen to people, then I can communicate love to them better than all the wise quotes in the world. I pray that we as ministry leaders and servants of God can learn to truly listen to people, to communicate to them, by our actions, “I love you enough to listen to you. I value your thoughts and ideas. I care about what you have to say.” I think we would see walls crumble down around us and hearts transformed before our eyes. Let’s try it, shall we?

 How perfectly timed even the certain chapters of this book are!  It is Sunday afternoon, and I have just gotten home from church, eaten lunch, and put Dutch down for his nap.  I crept into our bedroom, settled into our bed leaning back against the headboard, and savored the silence.  Opening the book, I saw the title: The Prayer of Rest.  Sabbath Prayer—that is the topic of this chapter on this Sabbath day.  Jeff is still at church helping with some things, so I am alone (ok, my parents are here but they’re downstairs), and ready to enter in to this Sabbath Prayer.
 Foster describes this restful prayer as letting go “of the grasping and grabbling, all of the controlling, all of the manipulating dynamics of life” (93).  That is me!  Resting is so hard for me because it means letting go, completely.  It is “a way of tempering our gnawing need to always get ahead.”  And even when I do rest, if I have some sort of insight or impression from the Lord, I am always so antsy to write it down so that I don’t forget it, that before I know it I’m not resting anymore!  Foster describes this in his experience sitting over an outcropping looking at the ocean.  He kept thinking that he had to find a paper and pen to describe such an amazingly restful experience … instead of just experiencing it!  Perhaps that is the curse of the writer, always thinking of how to communicate the experience rather than just experiencing.
 At any rate, this prayer of rest is similar to the prayer of relinquishment, but involves more stillness.  It has been called “holy leisure” which refers to a sense of balance in life between activity and rest, work and play, sunshine and rain.  Balance is so lacking in our lives today, we either fall off the boat on one side or the other.  To be balanced is to be rested and centered, grounded in a proper understanding of who we are and who God is.  We understand our responsibility and duty and joy in godly service, but we also understand our place, our utter dependence on God and our responsibility to rest in His presence.  We are, as Foster says, gently cupped in his hand.
 Some practical suggestions Foster give are solitude retreats.  As a nursing mother, I don’t necessarily have the opportunity to take a solitude retreat, but I can do mini retreats, at night when Dutch is in bed, right now while Dutch is (not napping!  Squawking in his crib and singing songsJ.) supposedly napping.  These little moments of alone time give way for reflection, and allow me to be still. 
 Silence is another way to enter this Sabbath Prayer.  Silence does not necessarily mean not talking, but a silence “of our grasping, manipulative control of people and situations.  It means standing firm against our codependency drives to control everyone and fix everything.”  Oh how my mind is constantly running, dreaming up scenarios and ideas and things to do.  How difficult it is for me to cease altogether.  Right now, when there is something I want so badly, so deeply, it is an ache inside my heart, it if so hard to just sit, silently, quietly, in stillness, and rest in God, trusting Him and refusing to do things myself. 
 The end prayer of this chapter summarizes my prayer: “Savior, I am not good at resting in the hollow of Your hand.  Nothing in my experience has taught me this resting.  I have been taught how to take charge.  I have been taught how to be in control.  But how to rest?  No I have no models, no paradigms for resting.”  So I pray that today, this Sabbath, with a day looming ahead filled with 10 hours of straight classes tomorrow (!), with decisions and meetings this week and hopes and dreams buzzing like angry bees in my mind, I will lean back my head, and rest.  I will sit and watch the river and trust.  I will play with my son and be still.  I will laugh and curl up in the hollow of God’s hand. 

This book!  It never ceases to amaze me.  It peaks into my heart, sees the questions, fears, and concerns, and addresses them all!   (By the way, if you’re just joining this conversation, I’m reading Prayer: Finding the Heart’s True Home by Richard J. Foster)
 Chapter eight is The Prayer of Adoration, and when I saw this I thought, “Uh oh, I’m no good at this one.”  You see, because I know my ACTS model, I know that I am “supposed” to begin my prayer with adoration, right?  But because I’m so wrapped up in myself, I always get adoration tangled up in thanksgiving (praising God for what He’s done for me), and then I drag myself back to just listing God’s attributes, which feels more like a Bible verses memory lesson than anything that resembles true heartfelt adoration.  So I cocked an eyebrow and dug into this chapter, unsure of what I’d find.
 A treasure!  First, Foster says we don’t need to worry so much about separating thanksgiving from praise.  True, praise is on a high plane because with thanksgiving “my thoughts still circle about myself to some extent.”  But he insists that they interweave and that we should be distracted trying to separate them. 
 Obstacles to adoration are so many.  Most—the whirl of life and its myriad distractions.  Foster’s story of a cat, scratching during a particular silent moment of a prayer meeting, hit my heart.  Everyone in the meeting was distracted by the cat and felt that they couldn’t focus on hearing from God. But one missionary insisted that he was just wondering what God wanted to say to him through the cat.  That is how we should view distractions!  How guilty I am of often viewing my precious, wonderful son as a distraction at times.  My privileged role, that of wife and mother, will be replete with these opportunities for God to speak through Dutch’s smile, his laugh, his curious questions (when he can talk!), and his brave attempts at new feats.  Paying attention to these small wonders is what inspires adoration to the God who is behind it all. 
 Secondly, we cry “encore!”  Instead of simply enjoying the pleasures that we have, we demand more and more pleasures.  Instead of simply enjoying the roof over my heart, I dream of the day when we will move out.  Tonight, I actually had the audacity to dream about the day when we might have a bigger bathtub.  Oh dear. 
 Here is the real key.  I’ve always wondered, “So how do I do this adoration thing?”  Foster sees exactly where I’ve gone wrong.  He says (as I have said!), “it seldom helps to count our blessings or rehearse the glorious attributes of God (!).  We do not learn adoration on the grand cosmic scale by centering on the grand and the cosmic, at least not at first.”  He explains that we start in the plain old nooks and crannies of life.  Today, for me it looked like this:  Taking a walk outside with Dutch, with the rain slightly misting on us, taking in the smell of rain and the green trees and sound of gravel crunching under our feet.  It was teaching Dutch (again!) how to go down the stairs once he got to the top, and being present with him, matching his high-pitched squeaks and laughs with my own.  It was putting him on my lap and bouncing on our exercise ball until he laughed so hard he had hiccups.  It was savoring the sesame flavoring in the stir fry dinner we ate tonight.  It was kissing Jeff while he had his eyes closed washing his face.  And it was sliding into our soft, warm, clean bed and sinking deep under the down comforter, silently thanking God for the luxury of a comfortable mattress.  Yes, these are very small things, but they drew my heart to thankfulness, which draws my heart to God.  These are, as Foster says, stepping stones.  Stepping stones help us to experience the pleasures of God. 
 My application is to live tomorrow, the entire day, in utter thanksgiving, as Foster suggests.  My goal is to say, not “please”, but “thank you” for the entire day.  From the moment I wake up, until the moment I go to sleep, I endeavor to ask nothing from God save the ability to praise and thank Him.  I’ll let you know how it goes … 

Have I mentioned this book is amazing?  It is as if the very longing and cry of my heart for more prayer in my life is being specifically answered through every word of this book.  Questions, uncertainties, fears, struggles, are all addressed.  God has definitely ordained this, and I would recommend it to anyone longing for a deeper, truer prayer life and communion with God.
 This chapter is on Covenant Prayer.  What does that mean?  Simply, commitment.  We are so scared of commitment in our non-committal society, partly because we are afraid of lost freedom, and partly because we are afraid we will not be able to measure up and fulfill our commitments (at least those are the reasons I am afraid of commitment).  I cannot tell you how many times I have vowed to pray a specific amount or fast or do some other spiritual discipline and then seemingly fallen on my face.  And freedom?  Why do we fear a loss of freedom?  Foster explains that “We gain freedom in anything through commitment, discipline, and fixed habit” (67).  Freedom is not a lack of restraint it is a mastery over something. 
 We also fear that commitment will make prayer “seem like compulsory exercises rather than free-will offerings” (68).  I have had this fear, but it is a tactic of the evil one.  As Dietrich Bonhoeffer says, “Prayer is not a free-will offering, it is an obligatory service which He required” (68).  Now that tends to make us think of clenched teeth and no fun, but that’s not true!  It is through faithfully loving my husband that our feeling and emotions and passion grows.  Foster also assures me that God is pleased with our efforts to please Him, and like anything, we will stumble and struggle, but He is pleased when we get back up again and try to once again fulfill our commitment, through His working and power. 
 Before we had Dutch, Jeff and I used to pray in the mornings before work.  But somehow, through the fatigue of pregnancy and sleepless nights and busy days of parenting an infant, the discipline is gone.  So, we’ve now begun again, waking at 6am so we have two hours before Dutch gets up to pray, read our Bibles, reflect, and exercise.  We began a week ago.  It has been grueling, and I cannot say that I have actually enjoyed getting up any single morning, but already the benefit has been profound.  We can sense that we have more peace through the day, having already spent time with our Lord and together.  Our bodies feel better, having exercised, and our marriage seems stronger, having spent time together with the Lord.  It’s definitely not a habit yet—it takes every ounce of my effort in the morning, especially when at the end of it I then start my day with an excited, active, busy little boy on my hands, but I cannot even express how much I can already see God using this discipline to move in my life and change my heart. 
 I was specifically encouraged by Foster’s encouragement of us to use whatever preparations we can to ensure our focus.  He says a fixed time and a fixed place will help.  Right now it’s early morning, in the bonus room.  Yes, I’d love a more inspiring and romantic local, but we don’t have it, so there it is.  Foster even admits a cup of coffee in hand helps him—my choice would be green tea, so perhaps I’ll start that little ritual. 
 I think of romance with my husband.  If we’re going to have a special evening together, we make preparations to make it special.  Dressing a certain way, candles, certain music, etc.  in order to focus our heart and attention on each other and our love.  The same is true with God.  My goal is to brainstorm and pray for creative ways that I can prepare my heart, at 6am, to meet with God and be full attentive to Him and focused on Him as I pray.  I’ve started a prayer journal to record things to pray about, and that helps.  I pray God continues to give me creative ways to commit to Him, and to be faithful as He’s been so faithful to me. 

 There is a problem.  Every time I read this book I cry.  Chapter six, Formation Prayer, once again is perfectly timed.  Literally seconds before opening the book, I was putting my son down for his nap.  As I always pray for him as I put him down, this time, all I could was rest my forehead on the side of the crib and pray a simple, desperate, “God, change me.”   You see, I have wicked heart.  You may or may not see it, but it’s true.  I saw it this morning, nothing outwardly, just an attitude.  A simple finding out about someone else’s successful situation and my initial response was one of criticism, frustration, and envy.  Oh of course I’d never say such a thing, and a moment later I was asking God to change my heart, but that was my initial response.  That’s what was in my heart—not pretty.
 I need formation.  I need transformation.  God is so good to use prayer in this way.  At first, as Foster says, we are happy to have God answering our requests, but then He insists that He wants to take us deeper, so He changes prayer from being about asking for things to being about Him changing us.  The key to this is humility.  Humility leads us through “the many little deaths of going beyond ourselves” (62).  One way of humbling ourselves is given by Therese of Liseux and she called it simply The Little Way.  The Little Way simply includes seeking out the menial job, welcoming unjuct criticism, befriending people who annoy us, and helping those who are ungrateful.  The little way is a simple practice of small, seemingly insignificant things for which we will never be thanked, praised, or lauded for—which is why it is so effective in cultivating humility.  God help me practice the Little Way.
 I was also drawn to the discussion of the importance of solitude.  Henri Nouwen says that “without solitude it is virtually impossible to life a spiritual life.”  Through solitude a “liberty is released in our hearts when we let go of the opinion of others!”  But this really hit me:  “At first we thought solitude was way to recharge our batteries in order to enter life’s many competitions with new vigor and strength.  In time, however, we find that solitude gives us power not to win the rat race but to ignore the rat race altogether” (63).  You see, I love being alone.  I love solitude, but it wasn’t until my first year of seminary that I realized something.  I’d written some paper for my spiritual formation class and my professor wrote on my paper, “Being alone does not necessarily equal being with God.”  Ouch.  A little rebuke and correction for me.  Solitude and quiet, silent time alone is not to recharge me for me, it is so that I may decrease and He may increase. 
 The chapter on Relinquishment and this chapter on Formation are like a one-two punch to my heart.  Good, powerful, effective—and knocking the wind out of me. 
 Lastly, Foster talks about contemplating our own death as a means of formation as we pray.  I do not like this.  I do not like to think about death, especially when it involves me!  I constantly pray that God would let me live long enough to see my children grown, that is my simple prayer.  But what Foster is saying is that it’s healthy to recognize that we will someday be gone, and that the world will go one as normal.  Things do not revolve around us.  Yes we are valued and loved and important, but our life here on earth is limited.  We live for something greater. 
 I actually think my prayer right now is nothing more than my prayer was right before reading the chapter: “God, change me.”  Now I wait, submit, and practice the Little Way.

Ok, got to be honest.  This response is too tender to display for the world to see.  Drop me a line under “contact” and I’d be happy to share it with you. 🙂 

Bless you & thanks for reading!

K

Foster’s Chapter 4 (click there to read) is entitled the Prayer of Tears.  Essentially, he is speaking of the essence of having a broken and contrite heart before God.  What stood out to me in this chapter was the difference between simply being sad over things (nothing very spiritual about that!) and being sad over the things that God is sad about.  Just this morning in my quiet time I read about Esau getting gypped out of his birthright and his blessing.  He was sure sad over that!  He wept and wept.  But these are not the kind of tears that Foster is talking about. Esau’s sorrow was entirely wrapped up in his self and his loss and his wants.  What Foster urges us (through innumerable passages of Scripture, I might add) is to ache and hurt and weep and mourn over the things that break the heart of God.
I get glimpses of this.  I know, however, that I have not even come close to scratching the surface of understanding what this means.  Sorrow hits me when I see a tragedy.  For example, we have been praying for some little baby twins that were born prematurely.  We prayed and prayed that God would let them live, but yesterday we received word that they’d died.  That grieved my heart.  And it grieved God’s heart too, I know.  But the biggest offense against the love and holiness and righteousness of God is our sin. 
I know enough to know that I cannot bring this broken and contrite heart upon myself.  So as I sat and read this chapter, I wondered, “How is one supposed to do this?”  Thankfully, Foster anticipates that and gives helpful, practical advice.  Basically ask, then confess our sin, specifically, then receive the forgiveness of God, then obey (the evidence of repentance). 
So, by way of response and application, this morning I confessed.  Self-centeredness, scheming to get my own way, holding tightly onto things that God wants relinquished, demanding my own way, pleasing man rather than God, having critical thoughts in my heart toward others, pride, arrogance, vanity, impatience, having critical thoughts in my heart toward others (hey, some of these come up more than once!), scheming and not letting Jeff be the leader of our household, taking matters into my own hands, being short with my immediate family, having a me-first attitude, being focused on the things of earth more than things above, being obsessed with myself—my life and dislikes and preferences, not being sorrowful over my sin, and being critical of others in my heart. 
What I want to emphasize here, in my response to this chapter, is that it does no one any good to be fake about this.  I can sit here and write nice flowery, sad-sounding words about how horrible it is that our sin separates us from God and that our world has basically shaken its fist at God and turned from Him altogether.  But if I were to do that, and not truly grieve in my heart, then I’m just committing a worse offense—hypocrisy.  What my prayer is right now is that God would truly, authentically make us weep over our sin.  NOT because it causes uncomfortable circumstances or even that it hurts other people, but that it hurts God and blasphemes His holiness.  I pray that God would take my heart and make it break for the things His breaks for.  I don’t want to be an Esau, I want to be like Jesus, like Paul, like Moses, who wept over the world’s condition before God.  I’m certainly not there yet, so I pray God would change my heart, that I can know this Prayer of Tears. 

In Chapter 3, (Click there to read), Foster talks about the “Prayer of Examen.”  David cried out this prayer in Psalm 139:23-24: “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my thoughts.  See if there is any wicked way in me and lead me in the way everlasting.”  Our little comfortable, Christian culture does not like this sort of prayer.  The ironic thing is that we are all into introspection, but not into God-introspection.  We like to dig into our hearts and see all the hurts and wounds but don’t want God to expose the sin and selfishness.  What Foster explains though is that this is not a dreadful thing but “something of immeasurable strength and empowerment.” 
The first part of this prayer, the examen of consciousness, is where we reflect on how God has moved and revealed Himself to us throughout our day.  This is so lacking!  Yesterday, I had a remarkable encounter with my mom and my aunt where God simply showed up.  It was so miraculously wonderful, it was as if God took a knife and cut through a veil of deception, despair, and confusion.  It blesses God when we meditate on these things!  The more we practice this, this calling to remembrance, the more our spiritual eyes will be open to see things throughout the entire day.  As I began writing this, I stopped after that last sentence and decided to wait a day before finishing this reflection, to see if that last sentence was true, to see if by being more conscious of God’s activity in life my life would be more sacredly lived.
It was true.  Yesterday I had one of the sweetest mommyhood experiences.  I rarely am home alone with Dutch, but yesterday I was. Jeff had meetings and Mom and Dad were running errands.  We played, but mostly I worked on “stuff”, typical mommy stuff like planning meals and balancing the checkbook.  But then, I realized that I was missing out on a rare and sweet opportunity with my boy.  I put away my busyness and took Dutch in my arms and put my favorite worship CD, Robbie Seay Band, into the little stereo.  And then we danced and danced and sang and worshipped God.  Worshipping God with my son seemed to open my heart like it hadn’t been for a while.  I cried and cried, partly just over things I’d been struggling and wrestling with, partly over longings and aches, partly in joy of how sweet it was to hold my precious son.  During a particular slow song as I cried, he rested is head against my chest and just rested in my arms (that in and of itself was a miracle for my busy little boy!).  It was truly a sacred moment and I was so overwhelmed and thankful to God that I’d gotten to experience it.  But it was this type of prayer, the prayer of examen, and specifically the examen of consciousness that triggered my thoughts to be more aware of God moving throughout my day.  It wasn’t some huge event, but it was special and sacred.
The second type of prayer of examen is the examen of conscience.  Here we ask God to search us and know us.  I’ve been praying this as well.  One cool thing is that I can see God doing this quickly.  Last night, I had a rotten attitude about several things.  As soon as I sat down to class last night, I was reminded of this and a wave of truth, and conviction flooded over me.  I knew, I repented, and it was over! God is so soft and tender and loving.  He is so gentle.  Since it wasn’t something I’d outwardly done to someone, I only confessed it to Jeff and purposed that today I would respond better.  And this morning, after going to God in prayer, He did give me the grace to be better, to have a better attitude, and to breathe grace better than I had done the day before.  It’s a small example, but I can see this working out in my own life.  My prayer is that I would have a short account with God, that my heart would be so soft and yielded and tender that He would be able to immediately bring things to mind, that they would swiftly be taken care of, rather than piles and piles of undealt-with junk cluttering my heart.  That is my prayer.