Prayer

The parson sat on the front pew of the sanctuary. The lights had been turned off. The only illumination came from the security light on the pole beside the parking lot penetrating the stained glass. Charlie Brown, his faithful canine companion, was curled into a ball just in front of the altar table, just barely more than a brown shadow against the hardwood floor.

The Sunday evening Bible Study had dismissed two hours before. The parson had redone the sign in front of the church, made notes on ordering new Sunday school material, and taken inventory of the refrigerator to determine what had to be purchased for the morning breakfast the next Sunday. All the doors had then been locked, with the exception of the side sanctuary door which was the parson's most frequent point of entry and exit. It was on the pew adjacent to and maybe thirty feet from that door the parson sat, the glow from the stained glass windows providing only a soft illumination.

There was a tap on the door. It slowly opened. John Matthews, the senior pastor at a nearby county seat first church, peeked in.

“Parson, Parson,” he called out in a soft voice.

The parson recognized the voice. “John,” he responded, “what's up?”

John, obviously now seeing the parson alone in the darkened sanctuary, made apologies. “I'm so sorry, Parson. I didn't mean to interrupt. I just saw your car and all the lights were off so I stopped to make sure everything was okay.”

The parson rose from the seat. Charlie Brown, noting the parson rising, now stood, stretched, and stepped down from the chancel to stand beside the parson. “No problem, John. Thanks for caring enough to stop. I was just taking a few moments to enjoy the solitude.”

The parson and John stepped outside, both following Charlie Brown who had dashed past them and now sat beside the rear passenger door of the parson's car. As the parson turned to lock the door, John spoke again.

“Parson, I don't mean to be prying, but were you praying?”

The parson turned toward the parking lot. “I suppose that depends on your definition of prayer,” the parson said.

“I have to tell you, Parson, I have a bit of trouble with a devotional life. I mean, I know I should have a more disciplined prayer life, but I just can't seem to bring it off. How do you do it? What do you pray for?”

The pair had now had reached their cars. The parson paused, opened the door for Charlie Brown to jump in. Closing the door he turned back to John and replied.

“You know, John, it's funny you'd ask that. This morning I was listening to Krista Tippett on her program “On Being.” She was talking with humorist and storyteller Kevin Kling. In the course of that interview, Kling talked about when he was a child he prayed for God to get him things. Then as a young adult he prayed for God to get him out of things. I'm at an age now, John, that while I can totally agree with Kling, because that's pretty much the story of my prayer life But now, in my older years, I'm finding that just sitting alone in that sanctuary, without saying anything aloud, and just desiring only that God be with me in this mess of a thing called life, is my most fervent prayer.”

Charlie Brown barked, either indicating an “Amen” or expressing a desire to go home.

Comments

[wondering aloud]

love it..............