It is one thing to be convinced that it is necessary and good to pray with the Psalms. But the next question is simple. How do I pray the Psalms? Let me offer a few thoughts that can help make the experience of praying the Psalms rich and effective.
The first thought is deceptively simple, but of vital importance. The first step to praying the Psalms is to read them OUT LOUD in a prayerful attitude. The practice of reading to ourselves silently, with the entire experience happening using only the sense of sight and entirely in our conscious mind, is a modern innovation. All written literature, for much of human history, was created to be read out loud in the context of a community. The Psalms are no different. In ancient Israel, in worship in the synagogue and in the use of the Psalter in the Daily Prayer Offices of most Christian traditions the experience of the Psalms are meant to be the experience of words spoken and heard. If you want to pray the Psalms, pray them out loud and hear the rhythm and cadence of the words themselves not just in your mind, but in your senses and with your feelings. This allows the possibility of the next thought to become a reality.
The second thought is to imaginatively enter into the world of the Psalmist as you pray. Put yourself in the shoes of the Psalmist and seek to pray along with what that Psalmist was thinking and feeling when they penned their song. It is certainly helpful to do a bit of research on what the background of the particular Psalm was historically and theologically, but it is not strictly necessary to effectively pray the Psalm. All it really takes is the use of your imagination to look at the words themselves and think what it might have been like to be that Psalmist. The words themselves provide all of the context necessary to do that. If it is a Psalm of lament or of celebration or contemplation, it’s fairly easy to pick up. Just enter into that spirit as you pray. It will enrich your experience and open your heart and soul to receive from the Holy Spirit God’s comfort, correction and counsel as you pray.
The final thought I have to share is to read Christologically. This simply means to read and pray through the lens of the reality of Jesus Christ. While it is true that these Psalms were written hundreds of years before the coming of Christ into the life of the world, for the Christian believer, all of Scripture is meant to be interpreted through the lens of Jesus. This doesn’t mean that you need to try and shoehorn some New Testament meaning into the Hebrew scriptures or torture the text to say something that it clearly doesn’t say. But it does mean that as we pray the Psalms, we pray with the foremost thought that it is Jesus Christ himself who is the answer to our prayers. It means that as we experience the same doubts, fears, questions and anxieties as the Psalmists experienced we are asking for the presence of our Savior to touch us right where we are.
In the next post, I will share a bit of my own experiences of praying the Psalms and how this practice has changed the way that I worship, think and live.
So why pray the Psalms at all? Why would repeating the words of poems written hundreds of years ago by persons whose experience is foreign to ours help us draw closer to God? The answer to those questions could stretch a lot longer than a blog post, but let me offer a few thoughts that I believe are compelling.
The Psalms were the prayer book of ancient Israel. They were vital to the pattern of synagogue worship that nurtured Jesus, all of the first disciples and the apostle Paul. When we pray the Psalms, we are quite literally walking in the footsteps of Jesus. The words of the Psalms provided the grammar of prayer that are the foundation of early Christian worship. Through these songs of faith, Jesus learned to pray and worship the Father. What better avenue for you and I to learn the same thing?
Throughout the book of Psalms, the whole range of human experience and emotion are explored in the context of conversation with God. Joy, sadness, grief, betrayal, anger, relief, love, the desire for revenge and more are all expressed in bold and raw fashion in the words of these ancients songs and prayers. Praying with the Psalms teaches the believer not to censor themselves in the presence of God. It encourages honesty and realistic self-examination before God. These are not hook-filled, catchy tunes to give the faithful a warm fuzzy. At times the Psalms are filled with anguish and confusion, asking God questions such as why and for how long. If we are going to grow in prayer, we must bring our whole selves to God and pour out who we are and what we are feeling. The Psalms give us a language to do just that. But the Psalms do more than just give us an outlet to vent to God. They put those human experiences in the context of the larger story of God’s love for His people. They contextualize grief and joy in the rhythms, not just of human life, but of God’s divine purposes. It embeds our story in the biggest story of all.
Praying the Psalms joins us in the communion of the saints in a tangible way. Even the most cursory study of the history of Christian worship demonstrates the centrality of the Psalms to the worship of the Church throughout all of history, in every corner of the globe. When we pray the Psalms we join with the body of Christ that goes far beyond our own four walls, our own local church or even our own denominational (or non-denominational) background. It knocks down the misconception that the life of prayer is merely private, that spiritual growth is simply a personal responsibility or an individual journey. It is a participation in the building up of the body of Christ across all the boundaries of geography and time.
Praying with the Psalms provide for each of us a grammar for prayer and worship, a path to bring our whole selves before God and a plunge into the river of God’s work in His people across centuries and continents. How do I pray with the Psalms? Well, that’s for the next post.
I’ve been a Christian for a long time. Nearly 35 years in fact. During that time frame there are many lessons that I’ve learned, forgotten, relearned and started all over again. Maybe the most important lesson that fits into this category is the practice of prayer. As a young believer it was exciting to be able to speak to God spontaneously, to say whatever was on my heart and mind. As I heard others that I admired pray, I instinctively picked up the phrases, rhythms and expressions that I heard and saw them employ. One thing that I didn’t do is use pre-written prayers or a specified program or liturgy for prayer. In fact, with the exception of repeating the Lord’s Prayer during worship each Sunday, I tended to look down on the practice of using something that seemed “pre-packaged” or “rote”. It seemed somehow less spiritual or authentic. This idea stuck with me for many years. I could not have been more wrong.
As years go by, my confidence in my own ability to spontaneously express my heart and mind to God in prayer has been tempered by seasons of life that have at times made it seem very difficult to pray at all. Some days the words still seem to flow easily as I speak to God. Other days easy would be the last word that I would use to describe the fluency of my prayer life. It’s a great blessing to know that the effectiveness and maturity of my prayer life doesn’t depend on my own ability to put the right words together in just the right way. God has graciously provided many resources that anyone can access to enrich and empower their life of prayer. One of the most powerful of these resources is the Book of Psalms.
Over the next few posts I will discuss several topics relevant to why every believer (or the not-too-sure I’m a believer but I feel a desire to pray) should pray with the Psalms. They are:
- Why pray with the Psalms?
- How does one use the Psalms in prayer?
- What have I learned by praying with the Psalms?
- Where does one start?
Let me finish this introduction to this rich topic with one thought. Learning to pray is a life long process. It’s the primary path to knowing God, truly knowing oneself and growing as a disciple of Jesus Christ. It would be a tragedy to spend a lifetime failing to access the rich resources that God has provided for each one of us. The Psalms are an invaluable tool for the journey.
I have been thinking about an interesting phenomenon that I have experienced over the past few years. Some of the my friends that I have known for awhile and quite a few that are newer friends were raised or came of age in environments that were very conservative politically and theologically. These environments actively discouraged any sort of questioning of what were considered the “correct” views. As time went by, many of them had questioned and modified some of their theological and political views and had experienced both a sense of relief and freedom and also a degree of pushback and even ostracism from previous relationships as they went through this journey. I frankly felt a sense of disconnect with their experiences as I heard of them. Over time I came to understand that the disconnect I felt was that my own experience had been quite different. I wasn’t raised in a theologically or politically conservative environment. I was raised in a mainline protestant church until I was 16 that didn’t really leave much of a mark on my thinking one way or another and in a household that fairly apolitical – we didn’t really talk about politics at all. In fact, my ruling philosophical outlook (such as it was) that had begun to emerge in my early adolescence was a strange mixture of hedonism (of the sex, drugs and rock & roll variety), generic Reaganism (for some reason I really liked Ronald Reagan and felt a vague, but strong sense of patriotism) and love of fantasy and science fiction. Then I experienced a radical conversion to Christ at the age of 16 in, of all places, a charismatic United Methodist Church that carried with it very strong social and political conservatism. From late adolescence to my mid-20s I pretty much accepted the entire thinking framework I received, theologically and politically but didn’t really live in any sort of culture warrior mode. I went to school at Christ for the Nations, Tarrant County College and Howard Payne University (a Texas Baptist school that was quite orthodox theologically, but not necessarily conservative politically – actually pretty centrist). I learned and thought through many things a bit at a time, but never in a comprehensive way and always in a very nurturing environment. Questioning wasn’t discouraged by my parents or teachers or pastors – but honestly my questioning was fairly limited.
Then I went to seminary at Brite Divinity School at TCU and was beginning the process of candidacy for ordination in the United Methodist Church and for the first time felt a significant challenge to my theological (and by extension my political) viewpoints. This was disorienting for me and in many ways quite scary. I saw viewpoints that I held characterized as either out of touch or inadequate in some settings and downright dangerous and bigoted in others. Viewpoints that I held as pretty uncontroversial were portrayed as controversial and those that I knew were controversial (such as being unequivocally pro-life in regards to abortion) were portrayed as ugly and hateful. These challenges were generally done not a confrontational or threatening way – but in a philosophical and academic way. I didn’t consider myself to be persecuted and didn’t suffer academic or professional harm (my grades were quite good and I sailed through the ordination process). But I was viewed with suspicion or disregard by a not insignificant portion of my professors and denominational supervision and this was a new experience for me. I think I stewarded the experience fairly well. I didn’t become angry or reactionary but I do think I became wiser in the process. I did change the way I thought about certain issues but as a whole I came through the experience relatively unchanged in the sense that I remained (and remain) theologically conservative (by that I mean holding to historic Christian orthodoxy) and politically conservative (although much more critical of the Republican Party and American politics in general and much more aware of where ideas come from and what they mean). I did shed a good deal of legalistic baggage and have a much deeper understanding of the grace of God – but that was less because of a philosophical change and much more because of life experience and experiencing God’s love more deeply.
So back to the original thought. When I sense a disconnect in what other people have experienced, the best response is not to discount their experience or compare it to my own. It’s to let their journey be their journey and let my own be my own. I can benefit from what they have experienced and learned along the way and hopefully they can benefit from mine as well. But the bottom line on any of our journeys is this. Is this bringing me closer to Christ? Am I better positioned now to receive God’s love and grace for myself and to share that with others? A corollary to this (and a good indicator of whether or not I am better positioned to be a good receiver and sharer) would be am I now more charitable in my dealings with others who think differently than I do. Have I made peace with the baggage of my past without giving into bitterness? Am I free to walk away from any relationships that were a part of that past that are toxic without guilt and hate? And am I comfortable in my own skin – regardless of where I am now in the journey?
I have loved hearing the journeys of my friends as they wrestle with the good, the bad and the ugly of where they come from and I hope that I can be an encouragement to each of you along the way.
I married late. I was 34 years old (soon to be 35) when I married nearly 12 years ago. This wasn’t entirely my choice as I certainly desired to get married before that age. But I am truly glad things turned out the way that they did. I get to share my life with Bonnie and that was worth the wait. So although I have no regrets about how my path to matrimony unfolded, there are certainly lessons that I have began to learn in married life that I wish I would have learned earlier.
Last year The National Marriage Project released a report entitled “Knot Yet: The Benefits and Costs of Delayed Marriage in America” , looking at (among other things) the fact that the average age of marriage has trended up significantly over the last few decades. In general, people are waiting longer to get married. There are certainly many factors involved in this trend and this blog post isn’t an attempt to analyze all of these factors or even to endorse the report or any of it’s conclusions. But one observation did stand out to me in the report. It is the tendency within American society to increasingly view marriage, not as a “cornerstone” event in one’s life, but as a “capstone” event. What does that mean? Simply put, it means that for many people in our society, marriage is not looked at as something that is done as a part of launching one into adulthood with parenting, building a house and other aspects of one’s adult life to follow, but as something one does once all other ducks are in a row (finishing one’s education, getting one’s career established, a degree of financial stability and independence, etc.). This observation could drive all sorts of other discussion but one thing occurs to me most prominently when thinking through this. What an odd way to look at marriage.
Think about it. One certainly wants to be prepared for marriage in the sense of having a certain amount of maturity, having some prospects for making a living and at least a vague idea of what the desired future might look like. But the truth is that even though I was in my mid-thirties when I finally tied the knot (to the relief of my parents and my friends), I had no idea what I was getting into. By that, I mean that my understanding of what a husband’s love was truly all about was woefully incomplete. In almost 12 years, I think that I just might be starting to gain a clue. In Ephesians 5, the Bible explicitly compares the love of a husband for his wife to the love of Christ for His Church. Good luck with that if it’s something that I have to come up with out of my own resources. It’s humbling to say the least. But being married to Bonnie has been an incredible journey in learning how to love. Those lessons have come from all sorts of places (my wife, my parents, my children, friends, books, sermons the list could go on and on) but mostly from the experience of living it out day by day with the constant loving presence of the Holy Spirit living in me and in Bonnie. Before I got married, I did think of marriage is some sort of destination – a goal to be accomplished (and for all too long in my life, something that seemed out of reach). And getting married was certainly for me an occasion of great joy – one of the greatest events in my life. But I do wish that I would have understood back then that the journey is way better than the destination. I wish that I would have understood that nothing is wasted in God’s economy and that every moment of my life leading up to that event and since that event are part of the same journey. That journey is a drama where God’s love is the central reality and the love that Bonnie and I share with one another has its truest meaning in its revolution around that reality. Marriage isn’t an arrival. It is a vocation. And by that I don’t mean a job (although work is involved). I mean that it is a calling, an integral part in the purpose God has for many, many lives. I was complete in Jesus Christ before I married Bonnie. But without her, my calling in Him could never be complete.
I am learning to love. God is my Teacher. Marriage is one of my primary classrooms. Bonnie is my lab partner – or should I say dance partner (ironic for a guy who really can’t dance, huh)? Who ever knew that learning could be so much fun?
This past week my wife and I attended my company’s annual party. It was a the House of Blues in Dallas and was an all around blast. But what I enjoyed the most might be surprising. We haven’t attended the company party in a couple of years and there are several friends that I work with who haven’t seen my wife in quite some time. The universal reaction to her can be summed up in the words, “you look great!”. I wholeheartedly agree with that sentiment. She does look great and I tell her that often. But it was great to hear other people compliment my wife. I loved watching Bonnie’s face when she was repeatedly praised. There was a look of slight bewilderment mingled with a wide smile. Bonnie is not a vain person who angles or manipulates to receive compliments or praise but like all of us she does like to be appreciated and noticed. As her husband, however, there was no bewilderment on my face. I loved hearing others vocalizing the sentiment that is in my heart. Bonnie is beautiful, inside and out. She works hard to stay in shape and eat right and that does show up in her appearance (and in her sculpted arms which were highlighted by her pretty dress). But that appearance only accentuates the beauty that permeates her entire being. It is a beauty that more than anything else is the result of a heart that is reflective of the great love of God. And I am delighted when others notice and give her honor.
I think that may be because I have begun to learn that represents the heart of God toward His own Beloved, which is you and I. It delights the heart of God to see ones He loves be honored. When we notice the beauty in others and call attention to it, it doesn’t just please the person receiving the compliment, it delights the heart of God. When we relate to one another in a way that reflects the heart of God, honoring others and delighting in the honor of others becomes normal. How would our relationships change if we really grabbed hold of this? What would the dynamics look like if we looked for ways to give honor to others and delighted in the giving and receiving of honor? I think it would be wonderful. It would treat mistakes and disappointments differently, to be sure. It would soften the hard shell that I find myself walking around with from time to time for self-protection.
More than this, what if we grabbed hold of the idea that this is the heart of God toward us? Would it change the way we approach God? Would we hesitate to come to God when we screw up? Or would we run all the more quickly to God knowing that His presence is the perfect place for our screw ups to be sorted out? I am so grateful this is the heart of God for His people. And that as we grab hold of it, it can become more and more of our heart toward ourselves and others as well.
A great deal of life in Christ depends upon remembering. Over and over throughout Scripture, God’s people are commanded to “remember the Lord your God” (Deuteronomy 8:18 among many). The central act in Christian Worship, the Eucharist, is commanded to be done “in remembrance of Me” (Luke 22:19). One of the vital ministries of the Holy Spirit in the life of the Christian is to “bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you” (John 14:26) There is something vital to living that requires active memory of what God has done for us. We are required to remember His words, His actions, His sacrifice. Forgetting is equated in many places to disobedience, to idolatry, to disloyalty and faithlessness. Why is remembering so important and why do we find it so difficult to keep top of mind the words and actions of our God?
A passage in the Narnian novel, “The Silver Chair” by C.S. Lewis gives an interesting perspective to this reality. Aslan, the Christ-like Lion has given a task to Jill Pole, who along with Eustace Scrubb are tasked with the rescue of the lost Prince Rilian. Jill has received very specific instructions (“signs”) that are crucial to the fulfilling of the mission. After she has repeated and learned the signs, Aslan emphasizes their importance to her.
“But first, remember, remember, remember the signs. Say them to yourself when you wake in the morning and when you lie down at night, and when you wake in the middle of the night. And whenever strange things may happen to you, let nothing turn your mind from following the signs. And secondly, I give you a warning. Here on the mountain I have spoken to you clearly; I will not often do so down in Narnia. Here on the mountain, the air is clear and your mind is clear; as you drop down into Narnia, the air will thicken. Take great care that it does not confuse your mind. And the signs which you have learned will not look at all as you expect them to look, when you meet them there. That is why it is so important to know them by heart and pay no attention to appearances. Remember the signs and believe the signs. Nothing else matters.”
The air certainly is thicker here. And our minds can certainly become confused. And most of all, things are very rarely what they appear to be. A great deal of the reason that remembering is so important is that the confusion of life alters our perception of reality. We need fixed points to anchor our soul onto to maintain equilibrium. And the ultimate reality is the reality of God’s words and God’s actions. Our identity, our destiny and our course in daily life are shaped by this ultimate reality and our response to that reality. Calling to mind, remembering, saying to ourselves over and over the “signs” of God’s goodness is perhaps the primary task we have in growing in Christ. We don’t produce that growth on our own, but we certainly cultivate the ground for growth with our remembrance. There are no shortage of other words, other signs or other appearances to provide us alternative narratives from which to live. But all of these are skewed and in the final analysis, damaging or incomplete. Remembering is a choice. It is a discipline. It is a way of life. What will you remember today? Forget what needs forgetting and remember what is most important to remember. God’s thoughts, words and actions toward you are what is most worth remembering.