The retreat I’m on this weekend is a structured retreat. There are brief talks/reflections gathered around the meals and worship, along with time set aside for silence and solitude, and fellowship.
This morning brought a wonderfully rich reflection. Across the weekend we are spending time in the letter of Jude, and the focus today was the second half of verse 20: “pray in the Holy Spirit.”
It’s a beautiful phrase, and one i recommend spending time reflecting on.
We were sent away with some simple but searching questions. What is our pattern of prayer? What is our context for prayer? And how do we persevere in prayer?
Prayer is something I develop by doing. Reading and listening will only get me so far, actually praying is most helpful. However I’m not someone who can easily pray continuously for a couple of hours without my mind wandering. Eventually I run out of words, thoughts, or emotions to hang my prayers on. My mind drifts off down side paths, and before I know it I’m thinking about something entirely unrelated.
So this morning I decided to try something different. On visits to Taizé, I’ve always loved how a single chant is repeated again and again. Instead of moving on to something new, the repetition allows the words to sink deeper. You dwell in one phrase rather than skimming across many.
I remembered a previous vicar once mentioning the Jesus Prayer. It is a simple prayer, repeated slowly, often in rhythm with breathing.
Breathing in:
Jesus Christ, Son of God.
Breathing out:
Have mercy on me, a sinner.
Just that. Over and over.
I didn’t need to worry about running out of words. I didn’t need to chase every wandering thought away. I simply held on to the phrase and returned to it whenever my mind drifted.
It’s a humbling prayer, acknowledging my need for God’s mercy. But perhaps that’s no bad thing. Prayer can sometimes become a list of requests, wrapped up with a few “pleases” and “thank yous”. This felt different. It was simply coming before God as I am, with nothing to hide behind.
And as I repeated the words, something else slowly settled in: I cannot redeem myself. I cannot grant mercy to myself. Those things belong to God alone.
But I was also reminded that God invites us to draw close. Mercy is not something God reluctantly dispenses. His arms are open.
Sitting in front of The Return of the Prodigal Son (see yesterday’s post) while breathing through that prayer, I felt as though I was quietly stepping into the scene myself. The son returning. The father waiting. Mercy already open.
If you find yourself with five spare minutes today, you might like to try the Jesus Prayer. No long list of words required. Just breath, and a simple turning of the heart.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
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