Life as Prayer

The following meditation was written by Dr. Michael B. Brown, pastor of Blowing Rock Methodist Church in North Carolina.

“Aaron will burn sweet-smelling incense on the incense altar every morning when he takes care of the lamps. And again when Aaron lights the lamps at twilight, he will burn incense. It should be a regular incense offering in the Lord’s presence in every generation.” Exodus 30:7, 8 (Common English Bible0

During worship in an Episcopal church I sometimes attend, the opening processional is led by a thurifer swinging a container of sweet smelling incense. At designated moments throughout the service (e.g., before the reading of scripture or the quoting of liturgical prayers) one of the participating clergy will swing the thurifer near the altar, allowing smoke from the incense to fill the chancel and rise to the ceiling. That provides the congregation with a visible symbol of prayers wafting their way toward heaven.

In the Book of Exodus is a text about Aaron, the priest, burning incense at the holy altar morning and night. Consistently. Unfailingly. Paul said it this way: “Pray continually.” (1 Thessalonians 5:17)

Morning and night? Continually? Perhaps both Aaron and Paul were suggesting that prayer is not so much a momentary experience as it is an ongoing way of living. Our lives, like incense, continually waft their ways toward heaven. Our daily experiences are part of the fabric of praying.

At its heart, prayer is communication with God, which is rooted in relationship. God and we are making life’s journey together. When hiking with a friend, you don’t pause occasionally and say, “Now is a scheduled time for us to chat.” Instead, you carry on a very natural conversation as you make the journey. At home, at work, at school, in our laughter and tears, in our hard striving or leisure, in all places and at all times, our lives are connected to our Creator-Friend. We are hiking together. The invitation, “Lord be with me,” or the commitment, “Where you lead me, I will follow,” are confessions that we desire ongoing divine presence. We don’t have to make contact with God once in a while (before meals, at bedtime, in church, or in moments of crisis or need). Instead, that contact is unceasing. Morning and night. Continual.

One of the kindest and gentlest persons I ever knew was a member of the first congregation I pastored following seminary. He was a retired mill worker and a devoted participant in our church. For forty years he had supervised other workers in a textile mill, and all of them seemed to love him deeply and dearly. His neighbors felt the same way. Church members trusted and relied on him, electing him to a wide variety of leadership positions. In fact, our whole little community considered him to be light who brightened the shadows. Why was he so universally loved and respected? I think the secret lay in a statement I heard him make once. He said, “In every encounter I have with another, in every conversation, I know that God is listening. So,” he concluded, “no matter who I’m talking to, it still winds up being a kind of prayer.” His recipe for fulfilment and positive relationships was located in understanding all of life as a form of praying. His spirit, like Aaron’s incense, was forever wafting its way toward heaven. God was unfailingly close, making the journey with him. Recognizing that, he understood that God could not be excluded from anything else he did. In short, his life became an unending experience of prayer. At its best, that’s what prayer is for us all. We “pray continually.”

Joy,