Poetic Prayer

Be still and know that I am God.
Be still and know that I am.
Be still and know.
Be still.
Be.
–Contemplative Prayer from Richard Rohr based on Psalm 46:10

We continue our cactus journey by diving deeper into this simple but beautiful formative prayer. Make sure to read the first two parts of this series for more context.

Be Still.

I rather love how Rohr summarizes contemplative practices with the following from a Zen master, conversing with his inquisitive student:

“Is there anything that I can do to make myself enlightened?”

“As little as you can do to make the sun rise in the morning.”

“Then of what use are the spiritual exercises that you prescribe?”

“To make sure you are not asleep when the sun begins to rise.”

Contemplative practices and spiritual disciplines do not—in and of themselves—make us contemplative or spiritual. Instead, they form what I like to think of as surface area for the Spirit of God to work. The more time and space we set aside to simply “be still” before the throne and presence of God, the more opportunity the Spirit has to actively work in our lives.

The most common metaphor Jesus and the prophets use to speak of a deep and prayerful life is about remaining alert, not asleep. Ezekiel 33 refers to the “watchman of Israel.” Jesus speaks of wakeful servants and virgins with lamps lit (Mark 13:34; Matthew 25). Finally, Paul encourages us to “awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you” (Ephesians 5:14). In short, learning to be still is a kind of awakening to the deeper realities of God and His Kingdom, it’s an awareness and mindfulness that is slowly cultivated by the Great Vinedresser (note: early monastics called their spiritual disciples a “rule of life” based on the trellises that hold up grape vines; indeed, Jesus is the vine and we are the branches and spiritual disciplines teach us to “abide in Him”).

Be.

I marvel at the simple beauty of old dogs. Puppies demand attention and cannot control constant volcanic eruptions of nervous energy—gnawing on furniture, chewing up shoes. Old dogs rest quietly, calmly, noses nestled on the floor. Old dogs don’t need to impress, no need to prove their worth. Their lack of demanding interaction paradoxically welcomes us to come near, to snuggle and pet, gently and slowly, as our blood pressure mystically drops.

The grace to simply be is the journey of a lifetime, a journey towards simplicity and maturity. We learn to pray fewer words, knowing God isn’t like the pagan gods who only respond to pageantry and show. The drumbeat of the prophets is a warning against our worship becoming a production without any spiritual produce (i.e. “fruits of the Spirit”). Our prayers linger on a single word or phrase: Help. Thanks. Wow. The wonder and contentment begin to linger longer in our souls.

Here is the place of poetry. Being and receiving is all that remains. We share the divine gaze. He listens. We listen. We pray.

We rest.
We receive.
We rejoice.
We remain.
We relearn.
We reorient.
We release.
We rest.

Our identity shifts.
Our lists of what if’s,
Our burdens He lifts.

Our desires twist,
Our unclenched fists,
Our motives He sifts.

We move from insist,
To a patient persist,
To simple exist.

I am.
You are.
My beloved is mine.