Sunday, May 15, 2011

The Nature of Prayer?

I’ve been thinking lately about… well, thinking, and what it means to pray. And I think I found an answer that’s been right under my nose all this time; or, actually, just above it, and toward the back.

In the First Book of Thessalonians, Paul beseeches followers to “pray without ceasing.” When I first read that passage, it seemed rather impractical, if not impossible. We certainly think without ceasing, but to ceaselessly pray? People wouldn’t get a whole lot done during the course of each day. Years later, though, I came across another passage, this one written by Unity minister Eric Butterworth, who suggested that all thoughts are prayers. All thoughts are prayers, and all prayers are answered.

What if all of our thoughts were prayers? It would certainly place Paul's words in proper context. After all, if we think without ceasing – and if all ceaseless thoughts were prayers – then we would be praying without ceasing. If that were true, and if (a big if) all prayerful thoughts were actually answered, why wouldn’t that have been glaringly apparent to us by now?

Actually, given the things we think about, how would we even know? Look at the way we spend our days: we often have idle thoughts; our thoughts are often at odds with each other; we spend hours mindlessly watching television; we often get “lost” in thought (and men think about women a thousand times a day); we daydream; we think kind thoughts; we think not-so-kind thoughts; we often change our minds and even the direction of our thinking, ceaselessly. Is it any wonder then that, in this landscape, prayerful thoughts could even manifest in a way that would be recognizable? As singer/songwriter Paul Simon crooned: “Half of the time we’re gone and we don’t know where.”

What if humans were endowed with prayerful thoughts that do indeed get answered? What would be the consequence, then, when we aligned our thoughts with some consistency over time, and perhaps in alignment with others? If we truly believed all thoughts were prayers, and all prayers were answered, think how different we would approach each moment: Would we ever waste another thought feeling resentful or jealous? Would we harbor angry thoughts? Would we lie to each other? Would we even embellish the truth? Would we ever entertain ungrateful thoughts? Would we ever feel bored? Would we ever think of raising a weapon or even a fist at another person? Where would you turn your thoughts if you felt they contained within them… well, the answers to all your prayers?

Some might argue that I’m being a bit too Puritan in my approach to structured thought; too strict. But it’s not about being strict. After all, an archer isn’t being “strict” when he aims for a target. He’s being accurate. And if our thoughts do carry that much potential, what choice would you then give yourself?

So, put down the remote, and stop sending mindless tweets that no one really cares about. Reign in the wild stallion we call "thinking" and direct it both inward and outward, with consistency, over time. It just could be the greatest unrealized gift that humans possess. It might require a lifetime of practice to get it right, but consider the legacy we could leave for subsequent generations.

(Oh, by the way, if prayerful thought proved fruitful, then faith - an active faith - would not be far behind.)