The Great Struggle

Why Prayer is so hard in Recovery

“All the other efforts in a religious life, whether they are made vehemently or gently, have room for a measure of rest. But we need to pray till our dying breath. That is the great struggle.” -Sayings of the Desert Fathers

Today is Ash Wednesday, a day when people from Catholic and Episcopal/Liturgical mainline Protestant traditions fast and get ashes imposed on their head. Prayer is a big part of Lent, and I still remember the first time in prison I really got on my knees, physically, and prayed in that position. It had been a rough day, and I had been exhausted, tense, and maybe a bit paranoid that something worse would happen. My traumatized, cortisol-soaked brain had finally had enough. Putting a towel on the floor to protect my knees, I put a chair in the corner to rest my arms on, bowed my head, and prayed with tears watering my eyes and a shaky voice. This wasn't some big Evangelical TBN prayer moment, this wasn't some weepy made for TV movie.. this was raw, messy, and brutally honest. I must admit I had not really thought of praying on my knees until a former cellie of mine talked about doing it as part of his own prayer life as a Southern Baptist. I had always thought it was a bit pious to tell someone how you choose to pray, so I didn't take it to heart until that day when my pride broke down and I figured it was what I needed to do not what I wanted to do.

If we are honest with ourselves, unless we grew up Christian or have a strong sense of faith, Prayer probably isn't a part of our daily lives. If we pray at all, it's usually in an “Oh S#it, I need help!” Moment of desperation. When our lives go sideways, be pray fervently, when things are good, we let it slide. I once remember someone telling me in a retreat one time that prayer scares them, because it requires a vulnerability they have never quite trusted. This is a truly honest human being, I thought. If prayer doesn't make you so vulnerable you want to crawl out of your own skin, it's probably not all that deep. This is why I like the words of the unedited version, which I learned in Celebrate Recovery: ..Living one day at a time,Enjoying one moment at a time,Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,.. The one day at a time thing resonates with me still. While I don't tend to say the Serenity Prayer because it's not a part of the place where I volunteer, and we don't push AA or NA on anyone who visits, I do think it's a powerful reminder to ourselves.

This Wednesday evening, I will drive myself to church, have the ashes imposed, hear the jarring words “Remember that you are dust” said over me, and realize that even my best self is in need of repair, change, apology, humility, and contemplation. On my best days, I'm imperfect and still flawed in many ways. On my worst days, I need to be reminded that my prayers are not pointless gestures aimed at Heaven. God, Spirit, Higher Power.. whatever you call the one who is above all things, there's power in the asking moments of praying. You don't have to fold your hands like a child at the edge of your bed (unless that's something you WANT to do) in order to pray.. you just have to feel the words. Sometimes we forget even “Help Me” is a prayer.