There always seem to be funny coincidences, providing we are alert and sufficiently observant to connect the dots.
For an upcoming Keryx (a four day Christian retreat), I was asked to read a lengthy scripture passage. Cool, I like to read, and, if I do say so myself, I manage pretty smoothly at the podium. Though, me being me, I have a few prerequisites when it comes to public speaking. Such as? I detest the practice of cold- readings. You have undoubtedly been exposed to such: by the time the presentation is finished you have no idea of what was shared, the delivery being abbreviated and clunky. Thus, to prevent any unforeseen bugaboos, it was necessary to know which Bible translations were available to competently prepare.
Argh, the translations which were at hand did not appeal to me. Not unusual! I am particular because certain translations read smoother and complement our cultural speech patterns better than others. For instance, one of the Bibles was a King James, which I abhor. In the realm of study such may be the accepted norm for the astute, but I know of nobody who actually speaks like that. So, thoust protesteth! The other Bible was a New International Version. The NIV is close in comparison to my preferred authority, the New Living Translation, but not quite as genial. To give some perspective, most newspapers in this country are written at a sixth grade level. So is the NLT. That's not to say this is a dummied down version. To the contrary, this Bible is on par with our linguistic norms. (Yes, it is apparent that the Bibles referred to are Protestant and not Catholic. Um, I utilize more than one translation.)
Anyway, I jumped up and down like a child in protest (not really) and was permitted to bring my Bible. Whew, what a relief. Truth be told, the NIV would have likely been acceptable, but such is not as smooth and slightly foreign to me. Plus, it is paramount for me to read from my Bible. Why? Because such was a gift from my mother. Also, my Bible is in giant print, making it incredibly easy to read while poised behind a podium. The size of the text may come across as trivial, but have you ever been in the presence of a delivery where the reader keeps their face planted in the book? Very impersonal. Perhaps I am boasting, but with my Bible I can look up and make eye contact with the attendees with out losing my place!
When all was said and done, the reading was flawless and I had the sentimentality of having my mother's gift with me. Silly, I know, but that is who I am...si11y.
Later in the day I was invited into a makeshift prayer chapel. Not knowing what to expect, I stood at the threshold of the door and peeked around with apprehension before entering. After talking for awhile, I expressed my past discomfort of being called upon to spontaneously ad-lib prayers in the midst of a group, regardless that we are all there for the same purpose. Quite frankly, I find the process of impromptu prayer to be mechanical and without reverence, an exercise to grandstand, the petitioner seeing how many Lord Jesus, Holy Father, Almighty God, and Holy Spirits they can cram in. So inorganic.
To my chagrin, the pastor and his assistants understood my plight and prepared to counsel me in an alternative form of acceptable public prayer etiquette. Hallelujah!
Whoa, hang on a moment. Evidently, we were going to pray Psalms. I have heard of such overtures, but never understood. Nevertheless, the pastor handed me a Bible already opened and asked me to read the Twenty-third Psalm. Guess there was no time like the present.
Stop, stop, stop! Put the brakes on. The Twenty-Third is the only chapter from Psalms that I immediately recognize. Coincidently, it is one of my mother's most revered passages. Pausing for a moment, I asked if I could retrieve my Bible...it was just in the adjacent room. The pastor did not seem to mind. So, I zipped out, returned, and reverently read the Psalm. To my surprise, as the words flowed from my lips I began to recognize that the passages very much resembled prayers. Indeed, are prayers.
Cool! I now possessed a tool, for lack of a better word, which could be used for the purpose of satisfying public prayer. Similarly, private prayer, as well. I was feeling elated. On a side note, albeit a tad humorous, I noticed later on in my prayer counseling that the Bible they originally handed me was the same translation as mine. Go figure!
* * *
The next day I was approached to be a prayer partner for one of the main speakers. A little unsettled by the gravity, I knew that I could not dodge the summons.
But, hang on. This concept is not what you may initially perceive. We did not sit in close proximity and pray together. No. This gentleman was going to be delivering a speech while I interceded on his behalf with prayer. Petitions to keep him on track and paint. This would go on for forty minutes. I have never prayed for anyone, much less anything, for that long! I cannot even stay focused for such a stretch.
I found a little corner in the upper reaches of the auditorium, an out of the way space. As I made myself comfortable for the long haul, I realized that the featured speaker, the person to whom I was interceding, could not easily see me. Mind you, it is not necessary for him to observe me. However, it was of utmost importance to me that I be seen. Do you understand what was going on? Ultimately, I was looking for a reward in his recognizing my presence. Yes, that ugly characteristic we know all too well...pride. So, I moved to a better vantage point, more out in the open. But, in doing so, I felt a little awkward, knowing full well I should be more humble. Yeah, right! Nonetheless, I settled into my new perch. Looking back towards my previous corner, lamenting that I had committed some form of cosmic heresy, there was a previously unrecognized banner hanging immediately over the seat I just moments before vacated. Can you guess what was on that banner? Get this little piece of irony, it was the Twenty-third Psalm! I was about floored. Dutifully shamed, I returned back to my original spot, chuckling at the comedy of it all.
My prayers were scattered, but all went surprisingly well. Talk about connecting the dots.
April 2011
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