Prayer is like my cat

Since I'm not giving the sermon, I thought I'd post a short reflection in its place.

In my sermon a few weeks ago, I spoke about the importance of prayer. I've been heeding my own title's advice ever since.

Most mornings I sit on the couch for my prayer time. Usually what happens almost immediately is that our little cat, Vivvy, jumps up and come to my lap. Almost always, she begins kneading my lap with her two, cute, front paws. (It can be a little painful if her claws are sharp.) While kneading, she will meow in a very distinct, loud voice, reserved for just this particular ritual. How long she keeps at it seems quite random. Some days it can go on for ten or fifteen minutes. Other days it may only last a couple of minutes.

Eventually, if she isn't disturbed in some way, she settles down into my lap. And then she'll basically cat nap for as long as I'll let her. She lies there quite and contended, just happy to be there. Occasionally though, something distrubs her and she gets up and restarts the ritual kneading, though it doesn't usually go on for much more than a minute or two.

Each time we go through this morning ritual, I am reminded that maybe this explains an aspect of prayer. In my sermon, I wondered how a person could pray for one hour, let alone three. Maybe that's because I don't quite understand this prayer thing, and there's something God is trying to show me through my cat.

Until just these past few weeks, prayer, I thought, was where I talk to God. And only that. For those that know me, you know that I'm not a very talkative person. Even if I had pages filled with things to pray for and about, I doubt I could go on for that long. I want to get out what I need to say and be done with it.

But what if prayer is more about communion than communication...? Hmm... What if the whole purpose of communication was to achieve communion? Hmm... I mean, if God already knows everything that I'm going to say, it seems like communication isn't the main thing. If God is already answering my requests before I even make them, then the words of my prayers don't seem to be the main thing. If my words (groanings) have to be translated by the Holy Spirit, then there must be something more beyond mere words and speech.

And that's where Vivvy comes in. I think she's a lot like me. If I try to pick her up, she might allow me for a few moments, but then she gets restless and whines and struggles to be put down. But when she chooses to come to my lap, she will stay there a very long time. Is prayer like that? I'm running around busy, and even when God tries to speak to me, or to pick me up, I resist, and I whine that I have so much I need to do. When I choose to make time for prayer, am I choosing to climb into God's lap? Am I becoming willing to sit, to be held, to be stroked, to listen, and to just enjoy being with God?

What is more amazing is that when Vivvy sits on my lap, I've wondered who is enjoying it more: the cat, or me? Is it like that with God? When I choose to set aside everything and rest in God's presence, who enjoys it more? Me, or God?

I've also noticed that when I begin my prayer time, I'm a lot like Vivvy coming onto my lap. At first I'm restless. There are lots of thoughts going through my head. I jump from one thought to another. It's like Vivvy kneading, moving around, trying to find a nice position in which to rest. And I kind of feel like that. And like Vivvy sometimes getting restless again later, I do that during prayer, too. I hear something or see something -- maybe one of the kids, or our other cat, Stripey; a car passing by -- something that disturbs my resting in God. And I guess that's okay, because like Vivvy, it's only a brief interruption before I'm back again in God's lap.

I also mentioned in the blog about a week ago I'm reading a book on the meaning of the Sabbath. I've been working through the idea that perhaps the time we spend in prayer is also a bit like Sabbath. Mark Buchanan writes that for the Jews, the three days following Sabbath is for remembering the previous Sabbath (Exodus 20:8) and the next three days preceding the following Sabbath is for preparing to observe (Deuteronomy 5:12) it. It is their way of integrating the Sabbath into every day of the week. I wonder if my time in prayer is a way of bringing the true meaning and purpose of Sabbath into each day?

If prayer is primarily about enjoying sitting in God's lap, then it would be easy to spend much time there. And as I sit there, my thoughts wander, but not really, because they are following the promptings of the Holy Spirit. It can be as seemingly mundane as the fog outside, but in that I see God's enveloping presence. Or it could be reminders of some tasks that I need to get done, and through that I get a sense of the priority God places on my daily work. It might be names of people, those that live nearby as well as those from the past. The thought may simply be the wonder and greatness of God.

Or the thought could be as seemingly bizarre as how prayer is a lot like my cat.