Monday Morning Meditation #56: May the Lord Grant All Your Requests (Not)

This week I have continued on with the psalms, reading Psalms 11-20. What a gift these wonderful prayers of David are! I have savored every one of them. Still, not one prompted me to put pen to paper until I came to Psalm 20. In this psalm, I think David's pleas to God for the king reflect what every person would like: for God to answer all of our prayers, every single one of them, giving us everything we would like to have.

For the king, David says, "May the Lord answer you when you are in distress...May He give you the desire of your heart and make all your plans succeed...May the Lord grant all your requests." Earlier, in speaking about himself (Psalm 11), David bemoans, "Why, oh, Lord, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?" This is what we all want, right? We want God to rush to our rescue any time that we are in trouble and solve our problem with the precise solution that we seek. Oh, and beyond that, we want him to give us everything we desire. That would make our lives perfect, wouldn't it? That, for sure, is what many, if not most, of my teenage catechism students think -- and when this does not happen, they begin to question the existence of God.

Reading: Psalm 20

Meditation: I have frequently run into people who complain that God is not listening because they have laid some request before God that God has not granted, that God is not therefore a personal God. Or, perhaps they do eventually get what they have requested but have had to wait a long time before getting it.

The former complaint is one with which it is difficult for me to empathize. Since I converted rarely late in life, I have had a history of self-reliance and not blaming God when things go wrong, for five decades because I did not know that God existed, and more recently, post-conversion, because I have few desires. There is almost nothing that I could not live without -- except, of course, for my friends and relatives, especially my kids. Further, over time, I have learned that my solutions are not always the best solutions. My personal experience with God has been one of continuous surprise. I was initially surprised by His presence when I unwittingly challenged Him to let me feel His presence. Then, when I analyzed my life to date in the writing of Blest Atheist, I realized that God had been present at many times when things were difficult; I remembered many deus ex machina moments and many times that good things came from bad experiences. Most important, in my life, anyway, is the ways in which God has answered prayer -- His solutions have been far more brilliant than anything I could possibly dream up, a case in point being the time that Doah ended up in court, with the only possible results seemingly dire. Clearly, God knows best, and I would not want to get all my desires. I prefer to get God's desires for me. His desires are considerably more appropriate, much better, and more exciting than what my desires are or might be.

As for the latter complaint, God not rushing in the minute we ask or following our time frame, I always think about my friend, Omar, a Syrian poet, who wrote an entire book of poetry about waiting, the value of waiting, and God's various purposes in asking us to wait. (I wrote a short piece on it, too: "Esperando.") I do know that things seem sweeter after having waited for them, and I imagine that everyone, like me, has encountered the experience in which we received something after a long wait only to find it less desirable than we thought: there was greater excitement in anticipation than in reception. In fact, I strongly believe that often the journey is more important than the destination, and I have come to appreciate and even enjoy the journey.

Contemplation: That is far as I can go with you this Monday morning. I must retire to private prayer, repenting for ever thinking that my desires might be more important than God's desires for me. I will thank God for what He has not given me and the prayers He has not answered when my requests have not been in accord with my own best interests. I will praise God for His ability to present solutions that are brilliantly appropriate, better, and more delighting than anything I could think to want. As for petitions, I think I shall simply ask for more patience in waiting; that, after all, is not simple at all. Then I will spend as much time as I can in contemplation, my favorite part of the day, letting God take over the direction in which my relationship with Him moves.

I will leave you to your prayer and contemplation. First, though, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:

Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "Monday Morning Offering." I enjoy his prayers very much. I hope you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts. (During the week, he also posts great homilies and other thoughtful discussions. I enjoy reading those, too.)

For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs on my sidebar and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.

On Being Worthy

Sunday started as one of those days when everything seems to go wrong and the whole world has a sad cast. I had fallen asleep on the couch the night before and had missed my evening contemplative prayer session. I had not had a chance to ask God to protect me from nightmares as I always do and as God always does. While I did not have a nightmare (see my post, Nightmares, about my sudden nightmare attacks following conversion), I did have some kind of nonsensical negative dream that would have been comical had it not been sad. To make matters worse, I did not wake up in my usual manner but rather to the barking of the alarm clock which I had set just in case I overslept. (Yes, my alarm clock does bark; I chose the sound of barking dogs because I easily sleep through alarms of all sorts but always wake up when the cats, disturbed to hear dogs and not see them, come running to me for help, insisting that I crawl out from under the covers and aid them.)

With the first bite on my toes from Intrepid and the simultaneous feel of Murjan’s paw pulling the blanket off my face and tap-tap-tapping me on the cheek, I jumped out of bed, instantly realizing that I had missed the first Mass of the morning. I did want to catch the second since I had a noon BBQ with friends and had already decided to attend one of the earlier, English Masses in lieu of the Spanish noon Mass, my usual choice (so that I can sleep in, Sunday being the only day that I can do it). Donnie woke up at the same time, looked groggily around, and commented that I had fallen asleep before finishing the preparations for the BBQ. He could not do it all by himself; he would need my help before I left for Mass. My morning plans for contemplative prayer, followed by a quick shower, followed by Mass, followed by a quick trip to the store for ice, followed immediately by the BBQ were quickly swapped out for a new set of plans: BBQ preparation and, sigh, laundry drying. By falling asleep early, I had not put the just-washed laundry into the dryer.

At that point, I was wide awake. Let’s see: no prayer, no shower, no clothes. What a way to start the day! I quickly found something in the closet to wear (not what I planned) in lieu of attending Mass nude, threw the laundry into the dryer and the cats into the cat room where they would be out of the way and have a place to play, washed the kitchen floor, cleaning up the obvious signs of cats sharing our eating quarters, combed my hair which I would have preferred to wash, grabbed the keys, and ran to the car.

As I backed out of the driveway, I saw that I was already five minutes late for Mass. Fortunately, it is a 45-second drive to the Mission (no walking today). I quickly parked, ran past the parish office and through the gardens into the church. The lector was reading. I had missed the blessing, sigh! (I like the blessing.) I had also missed any seating space. I looked and looked and finally saw a spot in the middle of one pew near the rear of the church. I asked the person on the end if I could slide in, and she moved over. Now I could relax.

I sat back to listen to the readings and then to Fr. Ed’s homily, which was really, really good – everyone said so afterward – but I had trouble concentrating. I knew the reading. It was about giving up earthly goods, which I have done three times in my life, well, actually four, if you count my college days, never having had many goods, anyway, and perhaps therefore not feeling any great need for such things (or perhaps, as an Emersonian rugged individualist from Thoreau’s New England, not wanting to be owned by my things). Father’s explanation of the reading was perfect. He began with an analogy to how one traps a monkey. When he started with that, the thought that ran through my mind was “and I need to know how to catch a monkey why?” Then it became clear that it was an analogy. The monkey does not let go of the food that has attracted it to a jar, coconut shell, or other container with food, into which an empty paw can enter but from which a full paw cannot withdraw. So, the monkey is trapped. We, too, are trapped when we won’t let go of our earthly goods. It was food for thought, but my thoughts were elsewhere.

My thoughts centered on my irritation at waking up late, my plans going awry, having to finish the previous night’s work, and, especially, missing my normal morning time in prayer with God. Seemingly, I had forgotten that I was at the moment sitting in a pew with my friends in the presence of God.

Fortunately, the sense of God’s presence broke through in time for communion. Maybe not today, I thought. My mood makes me unworthy in spite of having mouthed the words, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive You, but only say the word and I shall be healed.” I said them. I did not listen to them – or perhaps did not subconsciously believe that God would “say the word” today.

Having decided not to take communion (a first such decision for me), I contemplated whether to go down for a blessing or continue to nurse my irritation in the pew while others took communion. I decided that the pew was the best place for me at the moment, given my attitude. “Sorry, God,” I said silently and, with a sudden sense of guilt, realized that I had not actively participated in the Mass that I had so hurried to attend. “I don’t feel worthy to receive the Eucharist this morning.”

Wrong decision! I suddenly felt like I was being pulled into the aisle and pushed forward. I should have recognized all my ruminations as wrong thinking. I don’t have to have done everything right to be worthy. I don’t have to earn God’s gifts. God grace showers us with gifts freely. God wants our union. We are worthy simply because we are His. He will “say the word.” He always does.

As I walked forward, I felt enveloped by pure Love, yea, by God Himself. My irritation evaporated, its droplets lost among the greater ensemble of tear-sized drops of forgiveness, acceptance, yes, even worthiness, droplets that never evaporate. I remembered that we all have been made worthy a long time ago – when God first conceived us and then later in those simple, powerful words of Jesus, “Forgive, them, Father, for they know not what they do.” Indeed, I often know not what I do, but I do know this: God forgives, God accepts, God graces. I therefore have the right neither to judge others or myself nor to hold myself apart from God. The choice is not mine. It is His. It has always been His, and He always wants me. Can anything else, whether earthly goods or abstract emotions, matter?

About That Lamb...

I don't know where the words came from. I could hardly believe they came from my mouth, yet I heard them as they slid out. "I don't think you are taking this project seriously," I said to the recently assigned project manager of a subcontractor at our Washington DC branch. She cringed and averred differently. I only shook my head unkindly and walked off to begin the presentation I had come to deliver.

I can explain how I got to the point of saying those words. In preparing for an all-day briefing to be conducted in DC together with a specialist from one of our subdivisions, I discovered that the concept papers we were to use were so poorly done that we could not use them. So, I had to re-do the work of several employees, whose supervisor had assumed that the work was fine. To worsen matters, the computers had been down (server outage) for the two days prior to my departure for DC. I had only one day to get everything done once the computers were back on line. That day I had several meetings, and during the time available in and around the meetings, one after another employee came into my office on small issues (well, important issues to them but ones I considered minor at the moment). Although I had closed my door, no one had seemed to notice. My open-door policy had been turned into an open-the-door policy. Too much to re-do, too little time to re-do it, and too many distractions from doing it! I was annoyed.

Add to that annoyance the fact that everyone around me seemed to be falling apart. I had one senior manager undergoing emergency surgery and another in the hospital with internal bleeding, cause undetermined. An employee had gone into the hospital for routine knee surgery and ended up comatose and packed in ice (we were waiting to here whether and when heroic measures would cease), and a junior manager had been diagnosed with a tumor and had to be brought back from his field assignment. This was all in the space of two days. Our senior leadership at the annual BBQ the day before I left for DC was decimated. I was stressed.

I did not escape any drama by leaving. As the plane was taxiing into Dulles International Airport, I quickly checked my Blackberry and learned two disturbing pieces of information. First, a project that I was to have been involved in had been downsized; much of the physical risk had been removed from it (that part was good -- while I was unconcerned for my own safety, my prayer group had been praying that something like this would happen), and the performance date had been moved to September, interfering with my need to be in Korea at that time. Second, my supervisor had overturned my appointment on an assignment I had promised to an employee. (She deserved it, and later in the day he recanted.) However these things work out and worked out, I arrived disappointed.

Following a night of only five hours of sleep after cleaning up from the BBQ, which had been at my house, and having had to go to work earlier than normal to begin that day of meetings and interrupted work, I had to jump onto a redeye from San Franciso to DC. Of all times, the pilot raced across the continental skies, arriving 30 minutes ahead of schedule, leaving me with a mere four hours of sleep. I was tired.

When I arrived at ground transportation, I blackberried the supervisor of our DC branch for an address to give to the taxi driver. She gave me the office address. I showed up there only to find out that the briefing was taking place at the premises of the subcontractor in another part of town. Now I would be late. I learned that the mistaken address was deliberate: the supervisor wanted to discuss the project with me alone. That meant that the specialist, who did not have the briefing powerpoints (I had them) would have to do with the first presentation without them and without me. I was angry.

Annoyance, stress, fatigue, disappointment, and anger combined to evoke my caustic remark when, having finally arrived at the subcontractor's location in time for the second presentation, I was informed by the project manager that two key personnel would come only after lunch. Any one of those conditions would have served as an excuse for my remarks, I initially tried to justify to myself. However, no justification exists for arrogance, and it was certainly arrogance that lay behind my words: whatever I had to say was more important than anything they had to do, and obviously that was not true.

I apologized to the project manager later. However, words don't dissolve; they don't run away; taking them back is nothing more than a vacuous expression.

While I know that I have not lost God's love, I was not thinking of God's presence when I made my unkind remark, and so I did not feel God's presence. The worst part? I lost an entire morning with God. That time will never be regained.

Clearly, I needed some time with God alone. After finishing the day of presentations, I ran to the nearby metro station where I knew there would be a line of cabs to assist me in my cab-plane-car dash to our Georgia branch. I grabbed a cab, driven by a courteous and calm middle-aged man from Pakistan. We chatted casually, and while the conversation was calming, it permitted no opportunity for time alone with God, as there had been none all day. I missed San Ignatio with its quiet spirituality.

Having swiftly picked up my ticket and passed through security without incident except for my typical random search, I took the airport train to the Delta terminal and made my way to Gate 76, keeping my eye out for any place at all for quiet prayer. There was none at all, just masses of people moving in cohorts to and from gates, into and out of restrooms and restaurants, and along the corridors. I missed even more San Ignatio's quiet spirituality where nearly every nook and cranny provides an opportunity for prayer.

I had more than an hour to wait for a now-delayed plane. I opted for a yogurt cone and seated myself at a table near a large potted plant, surrounded, of course, by other travelers.

My thoughts turned to my increasing unease. From whence these feelings? A change in the equilibrium of my life! I realized that I spend most of my time helping others, sometimes because I have been given a divine task, sometimes just because I stumble across someone in need (which may not always be accidental), and most often because those in need are people who work for me. My last few days, however, had been focused on me: the just-completed presentations in DC and the upcoming one in Georgia. I had moved away from helping others for lack of time (the employees to whom I had shut my door), lack of authority (the overturning of my decision by my supervisor), and lack of ability (the sick folk). I missed helping others, being God's helper. I missed time with God. It would be two more days before I would return to San Ignatio.

Even though I had no sense of God's presence while I waited for the plane, I wailed a silent prayer, spilling out those emotions and desires. I knew God would hear, understand, and forgive.

And then everything changed. Delta cancelled the flight. There were no other flights on Delta that night. I would miss the Georgia presentation, scheduled for early in the morning the next day. I called my admin assistant to inform the folks in Georgia, as Delta set about rescheduling all its passengers.

"Does anyone speak Russian?" one of the gate agents called out loudly, then a few seconds later, appealed "we really need someone who speaks Russian."

"I'll call you back," I told my admin assistant. Then I stood up and raised my hand, "I speak Russian."

The gate agent was visibly relieved. So were the mother and daughter who were trying to get back to Moscow via Atlanta. We very easily settled everything for them, and as their stress level eased, so did mine. (I find that happens a lot -- if you help someone who is stressed out, it eases your own feeling of stress.)

The grateful Delta agent offered to take me out of turn, but I waved off the offer, telling her that my office could handle my situation. It did. I ended up coming back to San Ignatio early! On a United non-stop flight direct to San Francisco. What could be better? How about a surprise complimentary upgrade to first class? Another redeye, but one on which I could sleep very comfortably.

All was right with the world. I was on my way back to San Ignatio. I wondered how much of this occurred because of my plaintive prayer about missing my quiet time with God. Ah, for any part of it -- and every part of it -- I am grateful.

All the way back home I could not sleep in spite of two short-sleep nights. The excitement of nearing San Ignatio overpowered every thought and emotion. God no longer has any need to look for this lost lamb. This lamb knows where to find the rest of her flock and her Shepherd!

What happened next? Unbelievable!

Looking back on that awful day and what I had done and felt, I should have been punished. Instead, a loving God brought me home to San Ignatio, back to Him in every meaning of that phrase, back to where I belong, where nothing of the material world matters. Now, too, I could look forward to being on time two days later for the retreat being led by Fr. Kevin, who also leads a contemplative-prayer-for-busy-people group in San Jose that I have participated in for nearly two years now. I would have had to arrive late because of returning from out of state.

I took the next day off from work -- I was owed comp time -- to be with God now that I was back in a spiritual environment. What a marvelous day that turned out to be!

The first thing after I arose (later than normal, yes!) I checked my email. Astonished, I read one note twice. It was the cancellation of a mandatory meeting on Friday, the second day of the retreat. I had worked it out with Fr. Kevin that it would be okay to miss Friday because of that meeting. Now I would have no distractions during the retreat!

A short while later, I attended noon Mass in the little chapel, celebrated by Fr. Paul on his last day in our community before returning home to Nigeria. Still reeling perhaps from my out-of-control behavior on Monday, I felt so very unworthy to be there and at the same time so loved. As I stood in line for communion, I could not keep the tears from pooling in my eyes, and I did not care if anyone saw them; we are all friends and all God's children.

Following Mass, two friends (one of them the person who assisted the priest in my RCIA class) asked me to join them for the rosary, after which we went out for cookies and milk. (I admit it; milk has always been my favorite drink.)

During our milk-and-cookie fest, I told my friends about my plaintive prayer, in which I bemoaned my separation from San Ignatio and loss of a sense of God's presence in the past few day's tumult, and how everything had suddenly worked out for me to spend the entire rest of the week with Him. One of my friends reiterated what a Sufi friend told me several years ago, word for word: "God spoils you."

Indeed, He does! And I am so very grateful!

(I posted the above story in two parts on my Modern Mysticism blog, but because of the title of this new, replacement-for-Blest-Atheist blog, it seemed apropros to include it here, as well.)