Noisy Sabbath Prayer

The practicing of silence before you, God, is difficult.  It is difficult precisely because I need it, right?  Some of your people call this stillness “meditation.”  Some call it “contemplation.”  Some recognize silence as vital for prayer.  Not a few call it a waste of time or “new-age.”  Your psalmists simply say, “Wait for the Lord,” and leave it at that.

So I set myself down in a chair, but am immediately restless.  (According to Augustine that is to be expected until I learn that my rest is in you.)  Something kin to caffeine courses through my mind.  The chatter is constant.  True, much of the inner babbling has something to do with you or, more likely, the work you’ve given me to do, or often my family.  But I certainly wouldn’t say these darting, dodging thoughts are holding a conversation with you at the moment.  Nor, more to the point, do they leave any space to breathe and listen to you.  These thoughts just barge into the soul’s room and say their piece before slamming the door on the way out. Then the next tangle of thoughts come tumbling through an open window.  Like I said, the practicing of silence before you is difficult.  Be still, jabbering brain.

At least here in the still sitting of my body (if not the mind), I intentionally acknowledge that you, God, are most important.  That I wish I could, given the inner crowding, wait for you.  That I would like to be able to listen to you.  Perhaps, given your patience, you will tune out all this mental noise and hear this body’s sitting as a prayer enough.