Forecast from the Plaza Prayer Station: Overcast with a Request for Prayer

Yesterday it rained.  And rained.  And rained and rained and rained.  I prayed that today would be clear for my time at the Plaza Prayer Station.  I haven't yet figured out the rain plan.  Today dawned overcast, but no rain.  (Thanks, God!)  A little chilly, but not cold.  No need to find a shady spot in the Plaza today.  When I arrived, the Multicultural Student Association had set up a Spanish Fiesta in the corner that I have come to think of as "my spot."  Spanish food and beverages called out invitingly from tables.  I didn't want to intrude on the event, so I found a different spot, still in view of the chapel.  Apparently there was supposed to be dancing at the Spanish Fiesta, but the speaker system wasn't working, so no salsa today.  I would have enjoyed watching that.  Several of the MSA students came over to see what I was doing and expressed their appreciation. 

Each time I go, it's a little different.  I told myself, "Be open."  Open to a new location.  Open to a new experience.  Open to whatever God brings on a given day.  Today one of my skateboard "dudes" dropped by for a couple of minutes, but for the most part the station functioned the way I had originally imagined it, with students and even staff stopping by for a prayer.  Prayers were requested for injuries, for sick relatives, for clarity and growth. I broke out my oil stock for a wounded eye.  I lost count, but I would guess I had at least 10 prayer requests in about an hour and a half.  A few stopped in to ask what it was all about, and one person called out in passing that I could pray for everyone to be okay.

One of my favorite moments was when I returned to the station after a bathroom break and discovered a student taking a picture of the "How may I pray for you?" sign with his phone.  He told me he was really glad that someone was doing this.  Several people walked by and said "Thank you," and many more smiled.  After I said a prayer for one person, she asked me how she could pray for me.  A gift!

I find that I am at peace in this ministry, though I could still use a little more confidence in my ability to pray extemporaneously.  Each Thursday I want to get there earlier and stay later.  I think I would enjoy being out there all day if I didn't have other responsibilities to attend to as well.  And if the rain held off.  I'm guessing I need to come up with the rain/cold location next.  I had thought it would be the coffee shop, but it's so crowded and loud.  It's tough to find an inside spot that is both visible and yet private and quiet enough for a conversation or a moment of prayer. 

Today is the first day I've had people read the sign, stop, turn around, and come up to me to ask for a prayer.  It seems to be filling a need, and for that I am grateful.  It makes me wonder where else we could set up prayer stations or "praying posts" if you will.  Again - not in order to find members or create pledging units, but to carry a ministry of presence into the world and meet people where they are.  The students are so grateful for the prayers.  Who else might be longing for them as well?

View of Trible Library from my chair

View from the Plaza Prayer Station: Never Underestimate God

I had such low expectations for this ministry.  My whole goal was to be brave enough to set up a sign and sit next to it.  I had figured it would take a long time for students to get used to me being there.  Never underestimate God. 

Week 1:  I show up with sign and chair and nervously sit and pray.
Week 2:  One of "my" students comes by to say hello and then a handful of "new" students come over to check out the prayer station and stand around chatting with me.
Week 3:  "Repeat customers" come over as soon as I arrive and plop down next to me on chair and bench, sharing concerns about their lives, asking about my faith tradition and why I started this ministry, conversing about the Enneagram and labyrinths, and sharing pictures of their projects for art class.  I extend the time I'm there to accommodate the traffic and to give myself time to pray once the Plaza clears out for class.

In three weeks this ministry went from no visitors at all to a constant stream of students hanging out, coming and going, checking in and introducing me to friends.  New lesson this week:  eat lunch before I come because once I sit down, there's no time for food.  And:  Never underestimate God.

I have been praying for a way to reach more students.  Fliers, campus email and tv announcements, Facebook, texts, and banners have failed to reach more than a handful of students.  Or our message hasn't been compelling enough to stand out from the plethora of campus activities.  And so, in the interest of ministering to a campus instead of just trying to grow a group, I wanted to figure out what a small Episcopal campus ministry could offer this school.  Many of the students already participate in campus ministries like InterVarsity, Campus Crusade (CRU), RUF, or Young Life, and many more participate in the astounding variety of Bible studies provided on campus.  We began offering a weekday Eucharist last semester, but that's still hidden away in the chapel (even with all the aforementioned advertising.)  It feeds a few, and that's wonderful, but I thought we could do more.  How, though, to become visible?  (Especially if we are shy and introverted!)

Last year I tried bringing Micah the black lab puppy.  Lots of students came up to pet him - he was a big hit.  But conversations ranged from "May I pet your dog?" to "Thanks for letting me pet your dog," to questions about Micah's age and known tricks.  And, we couldn't go inside.  I interacted with students, and I understand that some chaplains are able to transform the interest in the dog into deeper conversation.  I am not so gifted.     

This prayer station ministry, though, seems to be working.  Not to grow a group.  To minister to the campus.  The students I talk to are leading their own Bible studies as part of another campus ministry.  And yet they are drawn to the presence of a person praying for them, someone who doesn't judge or grade them, someone who isn't there to enforce rules, someone with a little more life experience, someone who has time to listen.  And maybe that's the most important thing - being visibly available to listen.  One person told me that after she had met me last week, she came through the next day and looked over to "my" corner of the Plaza and felt sad that no one was there.  Another person said she had seen the station on the way to her chemistry test and it made her smile.  Many of the ones who spoke to me yesterday said they'd see me next week.  They wanted to know what day and what hours I would be there.  

Maybe next week I'll take a prayer book.  Maybe we'll spontaneously start doing noon-day prayer together.  Maybe I'll bring the portable labyrinth from SpiritWorks.  Maybe I'll have another week where no one comes.  But they will see me, sitting there, available if they need me, ready to listen.  There's no telling what might happen.  We need to stay open for surprises - there's no telling what God might do next. 

Plaza Prayer Station

View of Great Lawn behind the Prayer Station

View from the Plaza Prayer Station: Do Not Assume

The second day of the CNU prayer ministry dawned hot and very humid.  I had decided to arrive a little earlier than the week before in order to be present for the peak of lunch - the most crowded time in the Plaza. 

As I settled in, I realized that I was looking right at the chapel.  A good focus for me as I prayed. When I had stopped by St. Stephen's on my way in, I learned that the Bible study group had been praying for me.  I had asked the congregation to pray for this new ministry the Sunday before, so I was delightfully surprised when I learned that they actually were.  My rector also offered me a rosary to take - another good focus for prayer.  This time I was more ready.  I put my phone away after taking a picture of the chapel, and made an agreement with myself that I wouldn't check it until the end of the hour. I knew several people were praying for me, and I wanted to do my part - praying for the campus until someone came up to ask for prayer.

Right in front of me a group of students was hanging out, having a wonderful time.  Two guys with skateboards seemed to know everyone who passed through the Plaza.  If we'd been in another setting, I might have described the two as surfer dudes.  I was a little nervous sitting so close, afraid that they would find the woman in the black shirt and white collar "uncool."  I assumed that they weren't the praying types and was scared they might even make fun of me.  But I couldn't help smiling because they looked like they were having such a great time. 

Though this wasn't a surprise for me, I rediscovered how easily distracted I am when I'm trying to pray, especially when I'm also trying to maintain an open and friendly disposition so as to encourage students to stop in for a prayer.  The rosary helped.  I prayed for all the students in Canterbury by name and all the other students I know as well.  I prayed for the campus, for those who are lonely or struggling or taking tests, for those who are struggling with addiction or any other trouble.  I prayed for faculty and staff.  I prayed for Sewanee and Seabury and the other campus ministries of our diocese and their chaplains and other clergy I know and anyone else who came to mind. 

And then a student I know came up to say hello.  The first person to break the invisible barrier that seemed to be preventing people from stopping to talk.  Plenty of people were passing by and reading the sign, and some even smiled, but until the one student stopped in, no one had spoken.  We talked for a minute and I offered a prayer.  It wasn't long before one of the skateboard dudes came over to talk.  "Here it comes," I thought.  I put on my most welcoming, trying-to-be-cool-while-sweating-in-a-clergy-shirt-and-please-don't-say-anything-mean-to-me smile.  "I think what you're doing is cool," he said. 

Lesson # 1 - Do not assume that surfer looking dudes don't pray. 

The guy and a couple of his friends talked to me for about 20 minutes or so.  They asked what I was praying for, told me about the Bible studies they lead, talked about an interest in "liturgical" prayer, and chatted about things that interested them.

Lesson # 2 - Do not assume that members of a differing campus ministry will think poorly of the prayer ministry I'm offering.

The consensus among this group of students was that visible prayer ministry was a good thing. One student came up after the others had left and chatted for awhile and then gratefully received the prayer I offered. 

Lesson # 3 - Just don't assume anything.  Stay open to each moment and what it will bring.

Ministry of presence is hard for me.  I feel like I need to be "doing" something and that there needs to be some way to measure it.  What matters, though, is the showing up and the "being" there.  I imagine it will be different each day that I go, and that I will continue to be surprised.  I look forward to what new lessons time at the Plaza Prayer Station will bring.

How May I Pray for You?

Sometime last spring I read a blog post by Jonathan Melton, campus minister at University of Wisconsin-Madison.  In the post Jonathan talked about starting what I call a "chapel steps" ministry in which he put out a couple of chairs next to a sign that said, "How may I pray for you?"  Although I didn't remember all the details, that blog post lodged itself in my brain, and from time to time I would think about it and ask myself whether I wanted to start such a ministry at CNU.  What he did sounded so brave to this shy introvert.  But it also sounded like a way to have an actual praying ministry on campus, and that appealed to me.

I ran the idea of the prayer ministry past my students, and they said, "If you're willing to do it, we think it's great."  That was the real question - was I willing to do it?  In my head where I'm courageous and filled with great ideas, I was absolutely willing to do it.  But then fear and worry took over when I tried to picture how I was actually going to do it.  So I found Jonathan's blog post and reread it.

Jonathan's question was "How shall I sit?"  My question was, "How do I make the sign?"  When I'm  nervous, I can get stuck on details like that, and then I have a very convenient excuse for not getting around to the actual ministry.  What kind of sign should I get?  What should I put on the sign?  Where should the sign go?  I figured it might take at least another year to figure out the whole sign thing.  So I decided to cut myself off at the pass, and I emailed Jonathan to ask him about his sign.  He very graciously shared where he had gotten his sign as well as sharing some of what he had learned from his prayer ministry with me.  I had no more excuses.  So I ordered a sign and some brightly colored chalk markers. 

On the day I had decided to start the prayer ministry, I walked onto campus and immediately got cold feet despite the almost 90 degree temperature.  I had decided to sit from 1-2 in the Plaza between the student union and the library.  Though I wanted to sit on the chapel steps, not much foot traffic goes by there, so I wanted to be where the students are.  I thought I would scope out my location before dragging the beautiful but way-too-heavy sign to the Plaza.  As soon as I got there and saw all the students milling about for a "Meet the Greeks" event, fear took over.  "I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this."  I told myself it was okay to have a day to scout things out and that I could start the actual ministry the following week.  And then I remembered that the night before I had asked a friend to pray for me and she had said she would set an alarm.  She was praying.  How could I go back and tell her that I hadn't even tried?  So I said my own prayer for strength and courage, and I went to my car to get the sign and the chairs and some water.  A student saw me struggling with the sign and came over to help me carry it.  I thanked him and, after picking a spot in the shade but off to the side, I sat down by the sign to begin my hour of prayer.

On that first day, no one came up for prayer or even spoke, though a few people smiled on their way past.  It didn't matter to me, though.  I prayed for the campus and the students in the Canterbury Club.  At the end of the hour I packed up.  It had been a success.  Not because students had come up asking for prayer - I really hadn't expected that would happen on the first day.  Not because I had helped the Canterbury Club grow in membership.  Not because I had been especially focused in the time of prayer.  No, it was a success because I showed up.  Someone prayed for me, and that helped me to pray for others.  It was really very simple.  Didn't require a lot of courage at all.  By showing up that first time, I knew I would be able to continue the ministry on another day, and hopefully over time it would involve more and more people praying and receiving prayer. 

So, if you're reading this, I invite you to pray for the CNU Episcopal Campus Ministry prayer station.  And be sure to let us know how we may pray for you.

Remembering Joel Harvey

My friend Joel Harvey died yesterday.  We weren't the closest of friends, not like my friends from college or high school, and he wasn't exactly a mentor, though he might have been if we'd been a little more intentional about it.  We served together for several years on the Commission on Ministry, doing the work of listening for the calls of those who want to be ordained.  Sometimes I gave him a ride to and from clergy conferences.  It was on those rides that we learned that we had both worked in professional theatre before becoming priests.  There's something about theatre people that I can't quite explain.  Maybe it's the same for anyone who has been in a previous vocation and meets someone who had the same experiences, I don't know.  For me, finding people who understand both the challenges and blessings of the theatre and the church is a gift.  Sharing the stories of the two worlds created a bond between Joel and me. 

Joel was sweet and kind and gentle.  He told the truth.  In a direct way.  Not mean.  But the truth all the same.  As a CPE supervisor he was well acquainted with how human beings work, and I often found him a source of wise counsel.  When I was making my transition from parish ministry to SpiritWorks, Joel supported me and offered guidance.  He came out to SpiritWorks a couple of times to meet with us and see what we did, and last year he donated a large number of books to us that he thought we could use at the center.  We treasure them. 

Joel was one of those special people who had a big impact on me, even though I didn't spend a tremendous amount of time with him.  I am grateful that I got to see him at Jan's 50th birthday party and several times this summer when I preached at St. Martin's where he attended on Sunday mornings.  He always had a kind and gracious word about my sermons, and I enjoyed being able to look out at him in the congregation.

Today I walked the labyrinth at Eastern State Hospital in Joel's honor.  I could feel his presence with me as I walked, comforting me, blessing me.  I didn't want to say good-bye.  As I was walking the circuits on my way out of the labyrinth, I saw a hummingbird flying between crape myrtle trees.  As I watched, the tiny bird flew out of sight.  Though I longed for it to fly back so I could see it again, I knew it wouldn't.  Joel is gone.  He will no longer suffer from aches and pains or troubles with his heart, but our hearts will have aches and pains as we miss his presence here among us.  Good-bye, my friend. May you rest in peace and rise in glory.

O God of grace and glory, we remember before you this day
our brother Joel. We thank you for giving him to us, his
family and friends, to know and to love as a companion on
our earthly pilgrimage. In your boundless compassion,
console us who mourn. Give us faith to see in death the gate
of eternal life, so that in quiet confidence we may continue
our course on earth, until, by your call, we are reunited with
those who have gone before; through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.                                                    -BCP

Forgivenenss Challenge Day 16 - Telling a New Story

The actual Forgiveness Challenge is on Day 21 or so, but I am back on Day 16 because I really am doing this at my own pace.  Day 15 talked about being a forgiveness hero instead of a victim.  The title of it, "Forgiveness Hero," led me to think of my own forgiveness heroes.  Nelson Mandela.  The people of South Africa.  Jesus.  The parents of the Amish girls.  For me, people who forgive those who have hurt them are the strongest and most courageous of all.  Who are your forgiveness heroes?

I want so badly to have the courage that my heroes have and so I have always tried to forgive others, some with more success than others.  Where I fall down is that I move too quickly to say, "I forgive you," because I want to find the peace that comes with forgiveness, but I don't actually do the work it takes to get to true forgiveness.  "It didn't matter," I say.  "Of course I forgive you," I say.  "No worries."  Right.  No worries until the next time when all of my unspoken and unresolved hurt, fear, anger, and disappointment rise up inside me shining a bright light on my lack of honesty.  I do not mean to be dishonest when I say I have forgiven, but nevertheless, I am.

This Fourfold path to forgiveness, this writing down of hurts and stories, this use of visualization to experience and let go of the big feelings, this process of telling the story and finding compassion for ourselves and for the ones who hurt us is a way to be honest about what happened.  It wasn't okay.  It did matter.  AND I can forgive.  For real.  Not just for pretend.  The lesson I have to learn is that I have to own all those feelings that I don't like, move through them instead of just burying them, so that I can tell a new story, a story that does not cast me in the role of victim but in the role of hero.  A story that shows I've healed.  It's not much fun to be a victim, not very life-giving.  And yet without acknowledging the pain, I can't truly forgive it.  

This Easter season is drawing to a close.  As we approach Pentecost, the day of the coming of the Holy Spirit, I pray that God will give us all the courage to walk the path of forgiveness, whether it's the Tutu Fourfold Path or some other, so that we all might tell a new story in which we are the heroes, not the victims, and in which we have come to know the peace that true forgiveness brings.

Forgiveness Challenge Day 15 - Slowing Down

Today is Day 15 of the Forgiveness Challenge, but I have only completed Day 11.  Partly this is due to other things taking priority in my life the past week, but mostly this is due to the difficult nature of the work of forgiveness.  Whereas reading each day's challenge and listening to the poem or meditation does not take more than 15 minutes, the exercises take far longer.  The first part of the Fourfold Path of Forgiveness outlined by Desmond and Mpho is "Telling Our Story."  Well, writing our/my story takes more than 15 minutes.  Telling my story, sharing my story.  Telling my story to someone else requires another person and time out of that person's schedule.  Suddenly forgiveness isn't something to be done in just 15 minutes of intellectual activity.  It's something with a cost - of time, inner reflection, willingness to re-experience all the feelings, opening up the box in which the memories are closed up and exposing them to the light.

All of this takes time and energy.

So I'm revising my commitment.  I am committed to this 30-day Forgiveness Challenge.  And I will complete it.  But maybe not in 30 days.  Whenever I read a book with exercises and I don't have time to do the exercise I usually skip it and come back to it later.  Except later never comes.  So I engage at an intellectual level, note that the exercise is there, and then move on without taking the time to dive deep.  I want to do this challenge for real, so I will take my time to do each exercise, even if it means that I am very far behind.  Even if it means I can't keep my original commitment that I made so blithely back on May 4.

I forgive myself for needing more time, and I accept that it's okay to go at my own pace.  I have not given up, I am simply taking the time I need to do this in the right way for me.  I want to learn this practice of forgiveness.  I want to make it a real part of my life.  Forgiving myself is part of the journey.