When Prayer Doesn’t Work

Are you in search of something more in your life? Get hold of this key to unlock the mystery. Every Holy Saturday, in preparation for Easter, our family celebrates a Christian version of the Seder Meal. We eat lamb, charoset, bitter herbs and we pray some of the ancient prayers of the Jewish people. ‘Dayenu’ a lively song that recounts God’s kindnesses and mercy during the Exodus, is a key part of the Passover Seder. The word “Dayenu” is a Hebrew term meaning “it would have been enough for us,” or “it would have sufficed.” The song reviews the events of the Exodus and proclaims, “Had God carried us out of Egypt and not carried out judgments against the Egyptians, Dayenu! That would have been enough. Had He carried out judgments against them, and not against their idols…Dayenu, etc. Any one of God’s mercies would have been sufficient. But He gave us all of them! Like many of us, I spent most of my youth in endless search for something that sufficed or satisfied. There was always this unquenchable longing—a feeling that there was ‘something more’ out there, yet I could never quite grasp what, where, or who it was. I chased after the typical American dreams of good grades, exciting opportunities, true love, and a fulfilling career. But all of these left me feeling unfulfilled. When I Found Him I remember when I finally found what I was looking for. I was 22 and I met authentic Christians who were actively seeking to follow Jesus. Their influence helped me more fully embrace my own Christian faith, and I finally found that peace I was craving. Jesus was the One I was looking for. I found Him while serving others, while worshiping Him, walking amidst His people, reading His Word, and doing His Will. I realized for the first time that my faith was so much more than a Sunday obligation. I realized I was constantly in the good company of a God who cared for me and wanted me to care for others. I wanted to learn more about this Loving God. I cracked open my dusty Bible. I went on a mission trip to Cameroon, Africa. I spent a year living in solidarity with the poor at a Catholic Worker House. The ‘Peace of Christ which surpasses all understanding’ surrounded me and would not let me go. I was so enveloped by the Love of Jesus that people would randomly come up to me and ask why I was peaceful, and sometimes actually follow me around. Mary, the Blessed Mother of my Lord, and Savior, guided my every step. The Rosary and daily Mass became indispensable parts of my spiritual diet and I clung to both Mary and Jesus as if my very life depended on it. However, somewhere over the next phase of my life, I lost this sense of Dayenu, the sense of satisfaction and the deep peace that surpasses all understanding. I can’t say exactly how or when. It was gradual. Somehow, while leading an active life raising five children and returning to the workforce, I got caught up in the busyness of life. I thought I needed to fill every waking moment with productivity. It wasn’t a good day unless I accomplished something, or several somethings. Pockets of Silence Now that my five children are mostly raised, I am still tempted to jump full force back into the world and fill every waking hour with tasks. But the Lord keeps tugging at my heart to spend more time with Him and purposefully create pockets of silence in my day so that I can hear His Voice clearly. To actively guard my mind and heart from the noise of the world I’ve developed a routine that helps me stay in touch with God. Each morning, the first thing I do (after attending to essentials like coffee and seeing children off to school) is to pray the daily Mass readings, go on a Rosary walk, and attend daily Mass. Bible. Rosary. Eucharist. That routine is what brings me peace and focuses me on how to spend the rest of my day. Sometimes certain people, issues, and various tasks come to mind while praying, and I make a point (later in the day) to reach out to or pray for that person, pray over that concern, or complete that task. I simply listen to God, and I act on what I believe He is asking of me that day. No day is the same. Some days are much fuller than others. I do not always respond as quickly as I could or love as much as I should. But I offer the Lord all my prayers, works, joys, and sufferings at the beginning of each day. I forgive others for their transgressions, and I repent of any failings at the end of each day. My goal is to know deep in my heart that I have been a good and faithful servant and that my Lord is pleased with me. When I feel the Lord’s pleasure, I find deep, lasting peace. And Dayenu…that is enough!  

Daunted by the struggles in your life? Take charge today to turn those struggles into blessings! The Book of James tells us to rejoice in our trials? But is that possible, especially when you feel like you are stuck in a spin cycle and the best you can do is take one more breath before you get dunked again? Is it possible during a 3-year pandemic that has challenged many of us in ways we never imagined? There were days during the past few years that I have felt like I was in a movie. Movies can teach us a lot of things and the best movies, the ones that make you sigh with a confident smile, don’t just have a good ending.  They contain an underlying truth that flows throughout the storyline and builds to a crescendo.  Such movies create an unexplainable pulling inside the viewer that cries out, ‘there’s more than what you can see, there’s a deeper truth here’. Though it is not a movie, that is what I sense when I read the book of Job in the Old Testament.  If the story were just, ‘Job got tested, lost everything and got back more than he had before,’ then I’d say, “No thanks, I’d rather keep what I have and skip all the trauma.” But there is something deeper going on under all of Job’s trials and tribulations. This deeper something going on in Job’s story can be a powerful resource for all of us as we continue through Covid’s waning days and experience life’s other challenges. Digging In In the book’s very first verse we learn that Job “was a blameless and upright man who feared God and avoided evil.” Job was a good man, an exemplary man, and if anyone should be spared calamity, it should be this man.  I used to expect that because I was doing the right things, because I dedicated my life to God and desired to follow Him, that my life path would be smooth—at least somewhat.  But my life experience has managed to eradicate that thought from my mind. Job reminds us that God doesn’t guarantee an easy life to anyone, not even his friends. God’s only guarantee is that he will walk with us in the struggle! Job loses everything, and I mean everything.  By the end, he contracts a skin disease that makes leprosy look like eczema.  And all the while, he refuses to curse God.  Keep in mind, Job doesn’t have the Bible to fall back on. All he has are stories passed down through generations about who God was and how God operated. At some point, he made a choice--the same choice each of us must make: Will we follow what we cannot see to gain what we cannot deny? After enduring tremendous agony and loss, Job wishes he had never been born.  This was no flippant teenage tantrum following a lovers-quarrel and break-up. Job had been pushed beyond any reasonable breaking point. All his wealth was gone, all his livestock, his land, buildings, servants, and most tragic of all, his children were all dead. And rubbing salt in the wound, his skin disease was like a constant drum beat reminding him of his losses. Just in Time It is at this point, in Chapter 38, that God finally corrects Job.  You might expect this would be a good time for God the comforter to wrap His arms around him, or God the warrior king to come kick the enemy to the curb. But instead, God speaks in correction.  It may be hard for us to grasp it, but Job needed that particular response from God more than he needed any other response. How can I say this with confidence? Because God always knows what we need.  God gives us what leads to growth, to wholeness, and to salvation—if we let it. Our part is to decide if we trust that what God is doing is for our own good. The beautiful, underlying truth that has been flowing underneath Job’s story line finally surfaces at the start of Chapter 42 where Job confesses, “By hearsay I had heard of you, but now my eye has seen you. Therefore, I disown what I have said, and repent in dust and ashes.” In this single verse we find the crux of Job’s journey. That sense that there was more than we could see, a deeper truth we could sense but not name, has now become apparent. Up till this point, Job has heard about God from others. His knowledge of God has been “hear say.” But the devastation he has walked through has become a path that allows him to see the one and true God directly, with his own eyes. If God wanted to meet you face to face, if He wanted to be closer to you than you could imagine, what would you be willing to endure for that to happen? Can you choose to see these last two years as a sacrifice of worship to God? Can you look at all the trials in your life, all the losses and hardships, and discern God’s mysterious will working through them? Take a moment now and offer your trials to Him as worship, and then rest in the peace that comes rushing in!

Hesitant to take that leap of faith? Then this is for you. Five years ago, my then-boyfriend now-husband and I were seriously dating while living seriously far apart. I lived in Nashville, TN and he lived in Williston, ND—1,503 miles apart. The distance wasn't practical for two people in their mid-thirties who had love and marriage on their minds. But we had well established lives in separate states. While dating, we prayed separately and together about our future, particularly about the distance factor. After we prayed a Novena of Surrender, his job suddenly offered him a transfer back to his home state of Washington, and soon I decided to also move to Washington where we could finally date while in the same city. A New Adventure One afternoon as I chatted with a friend, I shared my decision to move to Washington. I was stunned when she said, "You're so brave!" I could have used one hundred words to describe my decision, but 'brave' would not have been one of them. It didn’t feel brave; it just felt right because it was grounded in contemplation and discernment. I had been praying long and hard about our future together, and while I prayed, I realized God was not only changing my heart, but also preparing me for this new adventure. Over time the things that once had kept me tethered to the city I had lived in and loved for almost ten years lost their hold on me. One by one, my obligations began to neatly wrap themselves up or were redirected entirely. As I experienced those changes, I was able to pull away from my once busy life and continue to pray about my future. I experienced a new freedom which allowed me to become somewhat of an obedient nomad able to follow the Holy Spirit's promptings. Do What is Right As I said, being ‘brave' had never crossed my mind. I simply felt I was doing the next right thing for my life, regardless of the unknown and despite the look of surprise that would wash over people's faces when I told them my plans. It turned out that I was doing the next right thing for my life. It was one of the most right things I have ever done. My boyfriend and I eventually married (three years and counting). Two years later we conceived our first sweet babe whom we lost in utero, and then our beautiful baby girl was born the following year. Lately, I’ve thought often about my friend calling me brave. Her comment aligns with a Scripture passage that continues bubbling up in my mind: "...for God has not given us a spirit of fear but of power and of love and of a sound mind." 2 Timothy 1:7 If I had chosen fear instead of the courage the Holy Spirit gave me, I would have scuttled the future God had planned for me. I would probably not be married to the man God had in mind for me. I would not have my baby girl or our baby in heaven. I would not have the life I’m now living. Fear is rotten. Fear is a distracter. Fear is a liar. Fear is a thief. God did not give us a spirit of fear. I encourage you to boldly, and lovingly choose the path of courage for your life, with a sound mind and the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Tune into the Spirit’s promptings and drown out fear. Fear is not of the Lord. Do not journey through life with a spirit of timidity, passively watching your life pass you by. Instead, in the spirit of power and love and self-control, be an active participant with the Holy Spirit. Be bold. BE BRAVE. Live the life God has planned for you and you alone.

Here’s a scale to test your courage… Before entering a monastery hidden in the high desert of California, I lived at 5th and Main street in downtown Los Angeles, the border of Skid Row. Rampant homelessness is one of LA’s not so amiable qualities. Individuals down on their luck come from far and wide, often by means of a free one-way Greyhound ticket, to wander streets where winters are less hostile, begging for a means to rise above their circumstances. It is impossible to traverse a couple blocks of downtown without being reminded of the hopelessness that marks these individuals’ daily lives. The sheer magnitude of L.A.’s homelessness often leaves the more fortunate feeling as if nothing they would do could ever make the problem go away, so they resort to a strategy of avoiding eye contact, rendering invisible a population of 41,290, and counting. Man on a Mission One day I was having lunch with a friend at Grand Central Market. During our meal he unexpectedly handed me the key to a room in the luxurious Bonaventure Hotel, telling me it was mine to enjoy for the next couple of weeks! The Bonaventure, with its revolving sky restaurant, was the biggest hotel in LA, and only a ten minute walk from my studio apartment. I had no need for a fancy hotel room, but I knew 41,290 individuals who did. My only dilemma was how I should go about selecting the single person who would receive shelter? I felt like the gospel servant who was commissioned by his master to “Go out quickly to the streets and lanes of the city and bring in the poor and crippled and blind and lame” (Luke 14:21). It was midnight when I got off work. Emerging from the metro station I began my “hunt,” asking God to select the person He wished to bless. Peering down alleyways, I glided through the city on my skateboard, trying not to appear like a man on a mission. I headed for the L.A. Cafe, confident I would find someone in need there. Sure enough I spotted a man sitting on the storefront sidewalk. He was old and thin, showing boney shoulders through a stained white T-shirt. I sat down a few feet away. “Hello,” I greeted him. “Hi,” he returned. “Sir, are you looking for a place to sleep tonight?” I asked. “What?” he said. “Are you looking for a place to sleep?” I repeated. Suddenly he became irritated. “Are you trying to make fun of me?” he said, “I’m fine. Leave me alone!” Surprised and feeling sorry for offending him, I apologized and rolled off dismayed. This mission would be more difficult than I expected. After all, it was after midnight, and I was a total stranger offering what seemed too good to be true. But the odds were in my favor, I thought. My offer might get turned down, just like the servant in the parable of the great banquet, but sooner or later someone would be bound to take me up on it. The only question was how long would it take? It was already late, and I was tired after a long shift at work. Maybe I should try again tomorrow, I thought. Unknown Realms Skating and praying, I continued to make my way through the urban jungle, eyeing various candidates. Sitting on a nearby corner, I spotted the silhouette of a man alone in a wheelchair. He appeared to be half asleep and half awake, as many do who are accustomed to sleeping on the streets. Hesitant to disturb him, I approached cautiously until he looked up at me with tired eyes. “Excuse me sir,” I said, “I have access to a room with a bed, and I know you don’t know me, but if you trust me I can take you there.” Without raising an eyebrow, he shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head. “Great. What’s your name?” I asked. “James,” he replied. I asked James to hold my skateboard as I pushed him in his wheelchair and together we made our way to the Bonaventure. His head became increasingly alert as our surroundings gentrified. While pushing him along through the darkness, I couldn’t help but notice what appeared to be sand covering his backside. Then I realized the sand was moving. It wasn’t sand at all, but thousands of tiny insects. Entering the five star hotel lobby, James and I were met with expressions of shock from every onlooker. Avoiding eye contact, we passed the posh fountain, boarded a glass elevator, and arrived at the room. James asked if he could take a bath. I helped him inside. Once clean, James slid himself comfortably between white sheets and fell immediately to sleep. That night James taught me an important lesson: God’s invitations often come unexpectedly, demanding a measure of faith that usually makes us uncomfortable. Sometimes we must find ourselves in situations with nothing to lose before we are ready to accept His invitation to us. And more often, it is in bringing blessings to others that we are truly blessed.

“Ask, and it will be given to you. Seek, and you will find. Knock, and the door will be opened to you.” Matthew 7:7 It was the Fall of 2020 and it was one of those beautiful warm days. My husband, Mark, and I were home doing things around the house. I was so tired of hanging around the house, more often than not, due to Covid, so I told Mark I was going out for a drive and would be back home in a few hours. He told me to have a good time and we would see each other later. After I got into my car, I decided to head toward the mall. As I was nearing the mall I asked the Lord out loud, “Where should I go?” I immediately heard in my heart, “Pat”. She is my old neighbor who is now in a memory care facility. I thought that was a great idea, and it had been awhile since I had visited her. By now, I was already halfway there. I decided not to call first; I would call from the parking lot once I arrived. The Covid restrictions, at that time, prohibited me from visiting inside. I thought maybe Pat and I could walk around outside. I had to wait and see. I pulled into the parking lot and called Pat. She immediately answered! I do not even remember the phone ringing. Her first words were, “Carol, where are you?”, as if she knew I was coming. I told her I was in the parking lot at her place. She told me she was outside on the patio and I could join her there with a mask on. So, I drove around to the outdoor patio, put on a mask, and met her at the gate. She let me in. We were so happy to see each other. The sun was shining warmly on our faces; the Son was shining in our hearts. There we sat, on the patio, just the two of us, talking and laughing for well over an hour. We even prayed together. What a wonderful visit or should I say, Divine appointment? Just think, if I had not listened to that still, small voice I heard at home, nudging me to get outside in the sunshine, I would have missed out on a fantastic visit with my friend, Pat! Thank you, Jesus, for loving me the way you do!

I discovered the transformative power of the “Prayer of Abandonment” by Blessed Charles de Foucauld through one of my professors at graduate school, shortly after my husband and I became foster parents to a sibling group of three. I was reeling from the transition to motherhood, and my teacher suggested that this prayer might help me find the peace I so badly needed.  “If you want to change your life,” the kindly priest explained, “say this prayer every day … and if you want to transform your marriage, say it with your husband!” Eagerly, I took the little prayer card, taped it to my bathroom mirror, and read it aloud each morning: Father, I abandon myself into Your hands; Do with me what You will. Whatever You may do, I thank You: I am ready for all, I accept all. Let only Your will be done in me, and in all Your creatures. I wish no more than this, O Lord.   Into Your hands I commend my soul: I offer it to You with all the love of my heart, For I love You, Lord, and so need to give myself, To surrender myself into Your hands without reserve, And with boundless confidence, For You are my Father. For nearly twenty years, this heartfelt prayer of simple trust, based on the Lord’s Prayer (the Our Father), has been a constant source of light for me, especially as my husband and I continue to parent these children, two of whom we adopted in 2005. Through all the joys and sorrows of family life, this prayer rings true to me, and I find myself offering it in a new way now that my mother has joined our family. When dementia troubles her mind, this prayer helps me to walk with her without fear, with boundless confidence in the One who loves us both.