I Shudder to Pray these Lines

In this time of seemingly daily revelations and accusations of misconduct by people in positions of power and public responsibility, I was challenged and shaken by the prayer of Psalm 17:3,5. “If you (God) try my heart, if you visit me by night, if you test me, you will find no wickedness in me; my mouth does not transgress. … My steps have held fast to your paths; my feet have not slipped.” As much as I aspire to live a righteous life as a faithful disciple of Jesus, I am all too aware that my voice, steps, and heart are not in full congruence with Jesus. As I long for the confidence to dare to pray these lines, I shudder. Nothing was so abhorrent to Jesus as self-righteousness.

Out of the sordid messes that are being exposed, seems to be coming at least a remote possibility of a cultural shift that no longer gives prominent people a pass on living by the standards of decency we should be expecting from ourselves and those all around us. The sense of outrage is understandable and justified. Having said that, I am wrestling with how to express and affirm outrage without plunging into deadly self-righteousness. I am seeking to discern the boundaries between passing thoughtless, casual words and acts and persistent patterns of misconduct. I am puzzling over what kind of repentance and penance could precede restoration. Most of all I agonize for a path to healing and wholeness for those who have been wounded.

Public attention is focused on sexual misconduct at the moment, but careful attention to each instance exposes abuses of power and manipulation of money. I remember reading Richard Foster’s 1985 book Money, Sex, and Power and his observation that the ancient monastic vows of poverty, chastity and obedience were antidotes to the lure of these traps. That sexual abuse is more about power than sex is axiomatic. Sex is reduced to a weapon for demeaning and oppressing those who are considered weak and inferior. Not far below the surface of all of these recent revelations is a tangled web of money, sex, and power.

When a prominent figure we disagree with gets caught in this web, we are prone to gloat and assume it grows from their worldview. When a prominent figure we have respected get caught in this web, we are prone to regret and rationalize and hope for restoration. The reality is that hypocrisy runs rampant in all ideological, political, philosophical, and theological camps. Conservatives violate their own loudly proclaimed calls for traditional moral rectitude. Liberals violate their own loudly proclaimed calls for the rights and dignity of women, children, and the poor and weak. No profession or social identification is immune. Not government or politics, not sports or entertainment, not business or community service, not religion or education. I have had way too much experience with money, sex, and power misconduct among my clergy colleagues.

I wish I could offer a satisfying conclusion, but I cannot. Instead, I come back to being prompted to pray from Psalm 17 this morning. While I cannot, dare not, pray those lines as though I had somehow achieved them without falling into self-righteousness, I am praying that my stumbling steps to follow Jesus will bring me to an ever closer approximation of what they affirm. Yes, and a gratitude that, as Paul wrote in Romans 5-6, by God’s grace the righteousness of Jesus is imputed to me. I also pray for both the people around me every day, and those in faraway places of prominence, that they, too, will aspire to such a prayer. “If you (God) try my heart, if you visit me by night, if you test me, you will find no wickedness in me; my mouth does not transgress. … My steps have held fast to your paths; my feet have not slipped.”

Not “Whom can I trust?” but “How can I be trustworthy?”

Psalm 12:1-2,4

Help, O Lord, for there is no longer anyone who is godly; the faithful have disappeared from humankind. They utter lies to each other; with flattering lips and a double heart they speak. … those who say, “With our tongues we will prevail; our lips are our own—who is our master?”

These words that started my Psalm prayers yesterday morning jumped out at me shouting about the flood of sexual harassment accusations, confessions, and revelations that has recently been unleashed. Indeed, it seems now there is not anyone who is godly, not on the right or on the left, not in sports or entertainment, not in politics or business, not even in religion – religion that loudly proclaims exaggerated moral rectitude. And I join the Psalmist by screaming, “Help, O Lord! Can anyone be trusted? Does anyone have even a modicum of decency?”

The ones we are hearing about are considered to be stars, or at least think they are stars. They have all lived as though they believed that since they are stars, their victims let them do it, as though coercion and intimidation were consent. Is this a societal sea change in which the victims will no longer be silent and blamed, or is this only a momentary peek behind the curtain of domineering power?

I am all too aware that I cannot distance myself or the ordinary people around me from vulnerability. I cannot blame the stars for fostering an atmosphere that excuses me or anyone else from culpability. Along with Shakespeare, I recognize that a too vigorous assertion of innocence arises from guilt. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” is not limited to Lady Macbeth. That I do not think I ever said or did anything inappropriate with a girl or woman, does not excuse me from inappropriate things I have thought or seen, which may have slipped out unguarded. I am also aware of my flaws as a child and youth. Each month, when I pray Psalm 25:7 “Do not remember the sins of my youth,” with proverbial tongue in cheek, I have regarded age 25, like the number of the Psalm, as the boundary for the sins of my youth. Now that I am in my 70s, I speculate about moving it up to 40, 50 or even 60.

To be sure some of the accusations and incidents go back years, even decades, beyond the legal statute of limitations. Begging the question whether time heals, whether they have been repeated, whether the perpetrator has made a change, whether the motives for bringing the accusations are pure? While I certainly know I have grown and changed since I was an adolescent, hopefully for the better, I continue to wrestle with some of the same issues I did then, hopefully with more insight and maturity. Yet, when these old allegations are dismissed, all too often more current improprieties are exposed. I would suggest that brushing them off as obsolete is inadequate. They must be acknowledged and a suitable attitude of penitence and evidence of having made amends and embarking on a healthier path.

As a follower of Jesus, I certainly affirm forgiveness, second chances, and restoration. Nevertheless, the consequences of some things rightly persist through life. In my pastoral experience, I support the lifetime prohibition on contact with children for those who have molested or abused children. Similarly, I think those who have abused the unique position of pastoral care or counseling to take advantage of a vulnerable person should never have the opportunity to be trusted in that setting again. So where are the boundaries for resuming service after sexual misconduct? I don’t have an answer, but I would err on the side of caution in limiting opportunities and in setting up supervision and accountability. Presuming on grace in an unwise way sets up the prospect for repeat offenses. Yet, I do believe that with appropriate penance and candid confession, offenders may find new, protected roles in which they can serve.

I am very aware that the current highly charged environment false, unverified, distorted accusations can be made for political, revenge, or malicious motives. But asserting “fake news” is not vindication. More often than not, initial denials must be recanted or “modified” or are simply proven wrong. Blaming victims, the media, or political or business opponents is not exoneration. Those making such accusations also need to be held accountable for both the veracity and motivation for their claims. I know people who have paid dearly when they have been wrongly accused. Nevertheless, power people, stars if you will, are accustomed to diverting attention from their own culpability by attacking victims or the bearers of bad news. Recognizing the troubles that typically descend on those who accuse a prominent person of sexual misconduct, the benefit of the doubt goes to the accuser unless or until the veracity of their claims has been honestly discredited.

The misconduct of prominent people makes the news, but Psalm 12:1 despairs that any are left righteous. We have debated whether celebrities (entertainment, sports, etc.) should be considered role models. We are aware that even disowning that role, celebrities do influence the tenor of the culture. This is perhaps even more apparent for those who are in positions of public leadership in government, business, and religion. Some ordinary folk, even subconsciously, take a cue from the culture and in effect say to themselves, “If it’s OK for them, it’s OK for us.”  So does anyone who feels they have power over another feel permitted to abuse that relationship? While I know there are some women who are sexual predators, this is largely a male phenomenon. That it is more about power and dominance than sex is axiomatic. That is not to say anything about the relative righteousness of women and men, only to observe the unhealthy, ongoing impact of male power dominance in our society (The US is not alone, but we need to address ourselves and not divert attention to someone else).

As painful and grotesque as this season of sordid revelations may be, perhaps it does offer something healthier for our society, in which victims are taken seriously, in which women and children are respected, in which power people are held accountable, in which the unspoken acceptance of dominance and abuse is exposed and discarded, in which we can embark on a journey of rebuilding trust.

The Psalm and the current social environment beg the question, “Can anyone be trusted? If so, how do you know whom you can trust?”  We have too many examples of those who have abused their positions of trust to count on saying, “I trust my pastor, or president, or doctor, or therapist, or favorite news reporter.” The closer we have been to someone who has betrayed our trust, the harder it will be to believe we can trust someone else, even if we have known them well to be trustworthy for a long time.  No blood or urine test will tell us whom we can trust. Repair of trust is a prolonged, arduous journey.

My suggestion is to ask a different question. Rather than asking “How I can know whom I can trust?” we should be asking, “How can I be and signal to those around me that I am someone who can be trusted?” The answer does not come in a formula or prescribed program or set steps to follow. It is, as Eugene Peterson describes it, a long obedience in the same direction. 

Thoughts and Prayers

The recent church shooting in Sutherland Springs, Texas has again prompted many public officials to offer their “thoughts and prayers” for those so tragically affected. As this has become an all too commonplace ritual the chorus of “no more prayers, we need action” is reaching a crescendo. Some religious folk have pushed back, defending prayer and attacking some as anti-Christian. I have no illusion that adding my voice will make any difference in this divisive cacophony, but as one who has focused on cultivating my own prayer life for decades, I feel compelled to at least articulate my perspective. Perhaps because I feel somewhat misunderstood if not slandered by all of these voices.

First, I want to acknowledge that for many, many people, church going, religious people, to say “I’ll pray for you.” is a polite and mildly pious way of saying, “I care about you and what you are going through right now.” A perfunctory prayer invoking God’s blessing may be said  and even repeated at times of routine ritual. I don’t want to denigrate this practice, only recognize it as a courteous gesture in some circles.

Second, I want to say a bit about what I believe is a common but immature and limited understanding of what prayer is. I have often observed that if you listened to much of public prayer, and I am sure plenty of private prayer, you’d get the idea that we think God is stupid and needs to be informed by us about what needs divine attention and what to do about it. Jesus said, “Your Father knows what you need before you ask him.” (Matthew 6:8)

This attitude betrays a couple of further flaws in our typical thinking about prayer. I am uncomfortable, at best, at the various assertions that “prayer works” as though prayer was something instrumental by which we enlist or manipulate God into doing what we want. I have no objection to enlisting others as partners in our prayers, but I do not believe, as seems to be implied all too often, that if we can amass enough people praying about something, we can compel God to act on our behalf.

To somehow demand that God comfort those who have been wounded by something as tragic as these mass shootings and not also demand that God prevent people who are angry or mentally ill or whatever from obtaining and using guns or any other means to perpetrate violence is at best hypocritical and exposes the flaws of an instrumental understanding of prayer. This goes to the deep and insoluble dilemma of why God permits evil at all. Theologians and philosophers have explored this deeply for centuries, and though the insights may be correct enough, we are left puzzling in some anguish.

I remember well a very helpful series of articles on intercessory prayer by Roberta Bondi in The Christian Century several years ago. She built them around understanding God’s relationship with us as a friendship, but not in a superficial, flippant way. Prayer, then, is conversation between friends about what is important to both of them, and about seemingly trivial daily details. Friends might also ask for each other’s help, but not in term of demands or coercion. I think this two way interaction is at the core of maturing prayer.

Third, my experience and conviction is that by praying I am purposely getting close enough to God to begin to see the things that concern me through God’s eyes and to get God’s perspective and priority that may direct my attention somewhere totally different than I was thinking about in the first place. So I don’t pray to change God but to invite God to change me. We learn to pray in this way from the prayers that are in Scripture. I have prayed through (not just read) the Psalms every month (5 a day) for over 45 years. I pray through the prayers in the New Testament Epistles twice a month. I practice lectio divina which prompts me to pray with the Scripture passages I am meditating on each day. These practices continue to stretch my prayers into territory I would not explore on my own.

I suggest contrasting the Lord’s Prayer and some of the classic prayers of the giants of the Church with our instrumental, self-oriented, limited prayers. Jesus prayed for the glory and kingdom of the Father to come to earth and for delivery from evil (“the evil one” which can rightly be understood as a person who perpetrates evil) . The prayer attributed to Francis of Assisi prays that we will be directed to the hurting people around us rather than our own interests. The prayer of Richard of Chichester  (which you may know from the song in Godspell) asks that we better see, love, and follow Jesus.

God’s perspective includes stimulating me to take action based on what I believe is from God, trusting the Holy Spirit to nudge me as I go. One cautionary word here, this is not an instrumental use of prayer either, as we post-Enlightenment, pragmatic Westerners are prone to. It is not that God sends me a Mission Impossible tape with my assigned mission. Praying (without ceasing - 1 Thessalonians 5:17) to be sensitive to these nudges and to watch and listen for them from unexpected sources. Even deeper, such prayer shapes my heart to be increasingly congruent with the heart of Jesus. It changes who I am toward a closer approximation of the mind of Christ.

If I may connect this with prayer prompted by tragic events such as the shooting at the church in Sutherland Springs, Texas, I would suggest that we start by asking to have God’s perspective on the victims and those who remain to grieve, and on the shooter and all of the people and forces that brought him to this horrific point, and on the medical, social, law enforcement, political and all other folk affected by this event. Then begin by asking for God’s perspective for what can be done about this trend in our society. That may move me to seek out someone who is grieving to comfort them, as I pray that those closer to these victims are doing. That may move me to reach out so some I know who is angry, violent, or having mental health challenges to encourage and support them in getting help before they are drawn into violence. That may move me to get involved in local, regional, and national efforts to reduce violence of all kinds. That may move me to advocate for legal actions that would reduce the risks associated with all sorts of weapons and instruments of violence. These things are not actions as opposed to prayers, nor are they only outgrowths of prayers, they are prayers!

With all that I have written here and taught and practice about prayer for decades, I still must confess, as the Apostle Paul did in Romans 8:26, that “we do not know how to pray as we ought.” I am frequently aware that the churnings in my heart that urge me to pray are just too deep for words. Exploring that is beyond the scope of this piece, but I would say that daily I am thankful for the Holy Spirit’s groaning intercessions.