Inside the Spin-Mosaic Studio

I seldom refer to google analytics in my writings as I lean towards what generates from the heart, not a laptop. But, should the word "prayer" be entered into a Google search bar, images of folded hands, bowed heads and kneeled knees will swarm your screen in tiny boxes.

Black-shaped silhouettes shadowed by sunrises and sunsets will also dot your pixilated landscape. Why? I don't know. I googled prayer and that's what I saw: folded hands, bowed heads, kneeled knees and silhouetted sunsets.

In no way do I intend to minimize the power of visual images, but to suggest a new image. God knows each of our hearts churn to different gears, dance to different drums and respond to different stimuli. I'm an artist. I am all about pictures. Here's my picture...

To me, prayer does not look like anything that Google produces by flash-fast calculations. What my hands do when I'm praying is generally not on my radar of consideration. One hand might be holding the tip of the bow of my glasses---because I tend to take them off in moments of sincerity without realizing. A friend pointed that out to me recently.

To me, prayer does not look like a down-cast chin, though bowing the head is accepted as reverence in many places and contexts. I tend to tilt my head back until my hair falls to the base of my spine. From there, I look up.

I tend not to close my eyes; but squint into the sun. I pray best outside and out loud from the edge of the furthest point of our acreage facing the cornfields that look out into an expanse of...more cornfields. Prayer doesn't look like kneeling to me; it looks like standing.

That's not to say God is tamed as to when or how He shows up in accordance with my predispositions. This is only to say that these are the times and ways that I have recognized where, how, and in what physical stance to best find my peace...so that I can pray in sincerity.

In these moments, a picture of walking through a french-fry yellow field with a pearl necklace comes to mind; a picture that Google will never know to show. 

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There are some verses in Scripture that, quite simply, are not taken seriously because the ancient words, strung together like pearls on a necklace, contain language that seems extreme to our modern tongues and frenzied agendas.

For example, "Pray without ceasing." 

"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, 
 give thanks in all circumstances;
 for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you."

    --- Thessalonians 5:16-18 

Really? We are to pray and never stop praying? In modern language, we are to drive the car of prayer, and this car should stop at no red stop sign regardless of the intersection? How can this be realistic? Wouldn't this, in reality, even be on the edge of dangerous? 

Be thankful in all circumstances? In no way do I wish to discredit holy words, but only to echo how steep of an angle this hill of thought is to climb for the human soul and to offer a picture (though still imperfect) of where I have found a steady walking stick.

This is a struggle. We can each fill in our own blank: "Be thankful even when __________?"

Where is the reconcile? The dilemma makes me see yellow.

A memory comes to mind of a huge, perfectly round, bright yellow water tower whose silo-sized metal trunk was firmly planted at the outskirts of the community park near the furthest set of highest swings....the ones I was not aloud to go on, yet, because I was too small.

The water tower's name was Smiley. He could be seen for miles. And, no, there was not a Walmart nearby.

I remember standing like a tiny ant and looking up at him like a tourist in awe at the Statue of Liberty. How I wished there was a set of stairs and an observatory to climb up to, though the word, "observatory" had not reached my 1st grade spelling list just yet.

Prone to invisible antennas that recognized inconsistencies that lead to incessant questions from an early age (usually directed towards my patient mom), I took note that Smiley always smiled.

Smiley smiled on sunny happy days while the rays of light glistened off his bald metal head. When the sky turned cloudy, rain began to spit, and my mom, sister, and I went running to the parking lot to head home, Smiley kept smiling.

Rain or shine. Smiley smiled.

Is that how "thankfulness in all circumstances" is supposed to be? To me, an endless painted-on smile didn't feel like a beacon of optimism, or, even a picture of faith-in-the-midst-of-adversity. It just felt like a picture of fake-ness: one I did not wish to be a part of.

It would be more accurate if Smiley's face morphed into a grim line Image-face when the sky grew thunder-ish.

God wants us to be our most authentic selves, in sun or rain, when we talk to Him. Smiley was up there close to the heavens. He might agree.

How can we easily-distracted humans possibly carry out constant prayer, thankfulness and positive-ism with all the triggers and temptations that inspire attention deficit and weakness of heart in our world...not to mention the realities we each may swim in daily or face unexpectedly.

Once upon a time, I was pondering these seemingly-impossible, but "boyou-up!", mandates on prayer. I didn't realize then, but I now believe, that God may sometimes count pondering about prayer to be an act of prayer in itself. Because, I felt that He answered me with a picture.

I saw a pearl necklace in my mind. A real necklace of great value.

There are two kinds of pearl necklaces. Neither of which I have ever owned, though the analogy is one I now wear often.

Plastic pearl necklaces have little value and can easily be replaced. If the strand breaks, the wearer may not stop or stoop to pick them back up if they fall. Cheaply made and cheaply replaced, when plastic pearls are strung on cheap necklaces, there are no knots in between.

Real pearls harvested from natural oysters, on the other hand, are isolated and protected within their place.

Each is secured by a tiny knot on either side through which the pearl is carefully and snuggly strung. Should the string break, no more pearls are lost than the risk of the one closest to where the string has been accidentally severed. Knots ensure this. The necklace can be repaired. The pearls will not be lost.

When this picture entered the landscape of my pondering mind, I stopped and sketched. That's what ponder-praying artists do sometimes.

My own side-profile portrait emerged on a white canvas-toothed sketchpad. Gray sulphite brought into view a pearl necklace hanging from my neck while one hand stretched the strand forward and upward into my gaze. I pictured myself looking closely at the knots in between.

Each worry, each request,

    each burden, each question,

       each uttering of thanks, each concern,

    each friend lifted in prayer...

Each meandering ramble that my words more often frequent...

    with folded hands, kneeled knees, closed eyes,

Or, like me at the end of my trail...

    with a standing stance and eyes squinting,

        each prayer is heard.

God says our necklaces of prayer are worthy of knots in-between.

And to pray without ceasing? Maybe when we take the time to pray--when we actually do pray, not just well-wishes, good thoughts or positive thinking strategy---when we string our words together like pearls on a necklace and direct these same words to the God who created us and the God who sees, hears and knows all, maybe we access through God's promises a longer shelf-life of praying and longer shelf-life of blessing than we realize.

We are praying to a God who is outside of the limits of time.

When we pray, a necklace of high value is strung. With an Amen, the necklace is transferred to God. It's His to wear now. We are not to take each concern back into our own hands or wear them around our own necks. 

Can the brow that wore the crown of thorns not also bear the weight of our pearl necklaces of prayer placed around His neck; hanging near his heart? Nothing is too much for Him. This, He said.

God has the power to go before us into our dilemmas (Deut 31:8), to send angels on our behalf (Ps 91:11), to orchestrate a Plan C when we only see Plan A or B (Ps 84:11-12), to prepare a cushion between a rock and a hard place (Is 43:16-19), and to whisper comfort in places we only see pain (John 16:22).   

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And my field of prayers? I stem from a legacy of praying women (and men, thank you, Dad). In between a sip of tea and a bite of cinnamon roll, my grandma told me once about a friend of hers who drove a yellow car. When that friend moved away, each time she saw a yellow car around town, she was reminded of her friend. 

So, she prayed for her friend. "Pray without ceasing"? Just because her friend was out of sight, she was not out of mind, out of heart, or out of God's reach to help. This is what prayer can do.

My grandma and I live in faraway different towns. But, every time I see a yellow vehicle, now, I am reminded of my Grandma praying for her friend...and I pray for my grandma.

One day when I had driven halfway to my son's school, my wheels rounded the crest of a hill to see a home that looked to be halfway between a house and a barn. A field of bright, swaying French-fry yellow flowers took my breath away.

To anyone else, it would have been just a yellow field and a (beautiful) half-barn house---a 2nd glance at tops. The mind's eye of this artist saw a field of pearl-knotted prayers.

This may not be a 100% perfect picture of prayer this side of heaven, but to me, it's at least half-way there. 

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Jesus---"So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you."  -- John 16:22