PRAYER AT BREAKING POINT
Psalm 13
II Corinthians 4:8-12
How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide
your face from me?
How long must I bear
pain in my soul
and have sorrow in my
heart all day long?
We are afflicted in
every way but not crushed, perplexed but not driven to despair.
The abbot said something last week that struck a chord. Just as we began Wednesday morning prayers which,
as usual on that day, centred on justice and peace, he reminded us that there
was little justice and peace in the world at the moment. In fact, we often feel overwhelmed and helpless.
Yet, despite everything, we came
together to pray for justice and peace in the world. However inadequate, even escapist this might seem,
we pray. That might not be all we do,
all we can and must do, but this we do. At
one level, prayer is a protest against all that causes strife, as such it is also an expression of faith in
God, especially when our faith is pushed
to breaking point. In such times, the
Psalmist expresses our feelings:
How long, O Lord? ...
How long must I bear
pain in my soul
and have sorrow in my
heart all day long?
Last week one of my colleagues over many years died as a
result of Parkinson's Disease, and two other life-long friends informed us that
they had been diagnosed with advanced cancer.
Every day we all hear such news. The books on the altar are full of the names
of people who are seriously ill or dying.
And today, again, we will pray for all who are in need, especially those
who are seriously ill, those living in
squalor or in conflict zones, and we ask God to bless Africa, guard her
children and guide her rulers. It may seem inadequate, perhaps even
meaningless to some. But nevertheless we
pray in protest against the causes of pain and grief, and because we believe in
God even though our faith may be reaching breaking point.
How long, O Lord? ...
How long must I bear
pain in my soul
and have sorrow in my
heart all day long?
Every day on the news we hear of strikes, gang warfare,
political blunders and stupidity, service delivery protests, hospitals
understaffed and ill-equipped, dysfunctional schools, and violent crimes to
such an extent that we can no longer watch or listen. We find it difficult to cope with reality; we
seek mechanisms of escape, we are on the brink of despair. But we still come to chapel, and the words of
the Psalmist bring us back to reality, as do those of the prophets and
Jesus. This is how it is, this is the
world as it has always been. It is not
that the Psalmist is being morbid, or needs to lighten up, it is because he has
come face to face with the shocking reality of his own circumstances and that
of others. We are glad when can turn the page and find a Psalm that is more comforting,
less sobering, just as we switch TV channels from the news to Masterchef. Yet we know the Psalmist is in touch with the
way things really are, and so we pray with
him in protest even though our faith may be at breaking point.
How long, O Lord? ...
How long must I bear
pain in my soul
and have sorrow in my
heart all day long?
Having said this, it may not
surprise you that I have been thinking lately about depression. Not clinical depression, for that is an
illness that makes us lose all interest in life and needs special treatment. No, I am talking about the depression that sometimes
envelops us when we receive news about friends who are ill or dying, hear the
news about seemingly endless wars and violence, drive past shanties, and face the
day to day things that make us depressed.
And yet, as the abbot said, "we still pray!" Even when faith reaches breaking point, we
pray, just as we prayed for an end to unjust rule during the apartheid years,
and even as Volmoed was founded to pray for reconciliation when that seemed a
long way off. Looking back that's simply
astounding, isn't it? After all, we are
rational human beings, we know that the world won't change overnight, we are
not living in an illusory bubble. But we
still pray because we believe in the mystery we name God..
It is easy to believe in God
when everything is going well, when the sun is shining, and winter gloom has
given way to spring-time and the song of the cuckoo. It is easy to believe in God when we are
healthy and have enough money in our pockets to pay the bills, go on holiday
and get good medical care. It is easy to
believe in God when prayers are answered.
But, the truth is, faith is not
easy, it is often a daily struggle to affirm
that there is purpose and meaning in life, that love does endure and ultimately
conquers, that miracles do happen, and that there are signs of hope that keep
budding like the fynbos after a fire. It
was such faith which enabled St. Paul to say that though he was afflicted in
every way he was not crushed, and though he was perplexed he was not driven to
despair.
A young man came to see me last week. He is from England and is married to a South
African. They studied theology in the UK,
but for the past six years have lived in Mannenberg on the Cape Flats -- the
home of gangsterism, drugs, and daily violence on the streets -- where they are
building a house church where drug addicts can find a new beginning. I was deeply moved by his story. They live and work where reality hits the
proverbial fan each day from the moment they wake until they go to sleep to the
sound of gunfire. Yet, so he told me,
they pray because they believe that God is active in healing broken people in a broken community. They believe that in the midst of death there
is the possibility of life, and in the midst of despair there is hope. That is why we pray, especially when we find ourselves with
others pushed to breaking point. Prayer is not all we do, it is not an escape
from action; prayer is a protest against
all that is wrong, an expression of our hope for a better world, a means of
grace that enables us to face reality and not be driven beyond our perplexity
to despair. Prayer is waiting
expectantly to be surprised by God.
John de Gruchy
Volmoed 16 July 2015
No comments:
Post a Comment