Prayer still feels awkward. I like the idea of having a conversation with God, of being close and intimate. But there is a part of me that fights against asking God to do certain things. At one point in my life, this would have been rooted in believing God did not care what I needed, or that if I asked I would surely be disappointed. These days it is rooted more in a fear of not wanting to manipulate God; not wanting to shrink God into my personal Genie-in-a-bottle.
This past Thursday I facilitated an all-day bully awareness retreat for a group of Catholic middle school students. In the hours before the retreat, I was having my usual ‘get up super early, read, pray, write’ hour. As I was thinking about bullies and victims, I started picturing my own enemies. I could easily call up the names and faces of the “mean girls” from school. As I recalled my experiences of being bullied, of feeling like the odd girl, the left out girl, the unwanted girl, the pain was still palpable.
And then I started thinking about some of David’s prayers in the Psalms for God to strike down his enemies and rescue him. As a wounded adolescent, I wanted to pray to a Superhero God. I wanted to shine an emblem in the sky and have my Batman God fly in and take out my enemies. I wanted to pray to the Superman God who would swoop in and rescue me. And if I am honest, I still want to pray those prayers now.
And then the next thought rolled in. Yes, I was victim to the mean girls in school. But I was also a really mean girl. I bullied. I made up horrible names to call my fellow classmates and teachers. I created games to try and make other girls feel so bad they would run off and cry. I am quite confident I am someone’s enemy. I am confident that I am someone’s (probably several someone’s) source of painful memories.
I am both victim and perpetrator. Bully and target. Friend and enemy.
Were my superhero prayers to come true, then I too should be struck down. For I am an enemy of God and my fellow humans.
My prayers lately have been more like groans. I share the struggles in my soul. I share the fears and worries that I am carrying around. But rather than praying to a superhero, genie-in-a-bottle God, I have started praying to Emmanuel, God with us. I cling to the promise, “I will never leave you, nor forsake you.”
This is a comforting prayer. God’s presence is indeed with me. God is with me in my discomfort. God is sheltering me under his wings. But his is also a humbling prayer. God is with me when I am an enemy. God is with the both/and parts of ourselves. He is with us when we are hurt and he is with us when we are hurtful. God’s mercy is present when I am wounded and his mercy and grace never fail when I am the perpetrator.
I believe that when we accept the both/and parts of ourselves, we find God’s compassion is also there. I also believe that when we own both parts of ourselves, we are more compassionate to our neighbors and our enemies.
Emmanuel, God with us.
This past Thursday I facilitated an all-day bully awareness retreat for a group of Catholic middle school students. In the hours before the retreat, I was having my usual ‘get up super early, read, pray, write’ hour. As I was thinking about bullies and victims, I started picturing my own enemies. I could easily call up the names and faces of the “mean girls” from school. As I recalled my experiences of being bullied, of feeling like the odd girl, the left out girl, the unwanted girl, the pain was still palpable.
And then I started thinking about some of David’s prayers in the Psalms for God to strike down his enemies and rescue him. As a wounded adolescent, I wanted to pray to a Superhero God. I wanted to shine an emblem in the sky and have my Batman God fly in and take out my enemies. I wanted to pray to the Superman God who would swoop in and rescue me. And if I am honest, I still want to pray those prayers now.
And then the next thought rolled in. Yes, I was victim to the mean girls in school. But I was also a really mean girl. I bullied. I made up horrible names to call my fellow classmates and teachers. I created games to try and make other girls feel so bad they would run off and cry. I am quite confident I am someone’s enemy. I am confident that I am someone’s (probably several someone’s) source of painful memories.
I am both victim and perpetrator. Bully and target. Friend and enemy.
Were my superhero prayers to come true, then I too should be struck down. For I am an enemy of God and my fellow humans.
My prayers lately have been more like groans. I share the struggles in my soul. I share the fears and worries that I am carrying around. But rather than praying to a superhero, genie-in-a-bottle God, I have started praying to Emmanuel, God with us. I cling to the promise, “I will never leave you, nor forsake you.”
This is a comforting prayer. God’s presence is indeed with me. God is with me in my discomfort. God is sheltering me under his wings. But his is also a humbling prayer. God is with me when I am an enemy. God is with the both/and parts of ourselves. He is with us when we are hurt and he is with us when we are hurtful. God’s mercy is present when I am wounded and his mercy and grace never fail when I am the perpetrator.
I believe that when we accept the both/and parts of ourselves, we find God’s compassion is also there. I also believe that when we own both parts of ourselves, we are more compassionate to our neighbors and our enemies.
Emmanuel, God with us.
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