April 19 -21 column

The Pantless Chaplain

 

Whenever I meet fellow veterans, we'll often engage in some good-natured ribbing. I set up the first joke by announcing that I'm an Air Force vet, which inevitably invokes the response, "Oh, you mean you're a 'Chair Force' vet." 

 

I understand that nickname because Air Force members occupy a lot of chairs doing heavily technical work in places like the Space Force and Cyber Command.

 

I first met those seat-techies in 1994 while on my first active-duty assignment at Onizuka Air Force Station in Sunnyvale, Calif.

 

Declassified that same year, Onizuka was dubbed the "Blue Cube" because of its shape, color and lack of windows. Outside the cube, sat three parabolic dish antennas that the chair jockeys in blue jumpsuits used for "flying" military satellites.

 

A few miles away, I sat in a chair in our chapel offices on Moffett Field, a Navy base acquired by the Air Force that same year. My workday often included planning worship, counseling and meeting with our staff.

 

In these days before 9/11, chaplains, like most military officers, wore  a simple uniform of sky-blue shirt and dark-blue Poly/Wool pants that resemble blue Dockers. We called the ensemble our "Blues." Add the rank, name tag and a Protestant cross, and I became an instant chaplain.

 

It was the same uniform I'd worn for monthly weekend duty as a USAF Reservist, so I quickly mastered the routine for daily wear.  We had no one inspecting us for proper haircuts, uniforms or shoe shining. We were all friends and "trusted professionals."

 

With a 7:30 a.m. daily start, I'd often suit up in my darkened bedroom on summer mornings, leaving the exhausted mother of our four children asleep.

 

Early one morning I decided to bypass office work to make a few visits around the cube. I walked through classified work areas introducing myself and giving an encouraging word. I returned to the office before lunch with a feeling that I had done some good chaplain-type work.

 

"Good," that is until I was greeted by Janet, our chapel manager and Non-Commissioned Officer in Charge (NCOIC).

 

Janet was a law-and-order manager, good with regulations and policies. She had a sharp eye for detail that helped her chaplains stay sharp too.

 

I knew something was up when she asked, "What are you wearing today, Chaplain?"

 

Her question sent me inspecting my shirt for uneaten breakfast.

 

"Look farther down," she said.

 

Forget the friendly "Chair Force." I was beginning to feel like a recruit standing before his drill instructor.

 

Finally, unable to hold her snicker, she said, "Those can't be your uniform pants."

 

"Why?" I asked, still staring at my well-creased blue pants.

 

"They look more like Levi Dockers® than official Air Force Blues."

 

Suddenly I was the picture of patriotism – a red face on a white man wearing blue pants.

 

She was right. In my haste to dress in my darkened room, I'd donned my Levi's Ultimate Chino Straight Fit instead of my Air Force Poly/Wool pants.

 

There's no telling how many airmen on my morning rounds noticed Dockers on their new chaplain. But just like the people in Hans Christian Andersen's fable, "The Emperor's New Clothes," they'd said nothing.

 

But the sergeant, like the little boy of the story, was the only one brave enough to call out her proud chaplain for his "nakedness."

 

I tried minimizing my mistake with the adage, "No one's perfect. We all put our pants on one leg at a time."

 

"Still," she said, "Perhaps chaplains ought to heed the Jesus protocol and 'Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect'" (Matthew 5:48).

 

But, but…" I stammered as she reloaded.

 

"And I think even Jesus might tell you that perfection begins with first choosing the right pants."

 

And with that, I returned home to change pants. My argument no longer had a leg to stand on.

 

----------------------

 

Send email to comment@thechaplain.net or voicemail at (843) 608-9715 or 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602. Order my latest book "Tell It To the Chaplain" by sending $20 to same address or online at www.thechaplain.net.

 

 

 

April 12 - 14 column

 Lost in the Translation

 

Anytime I tell people that I'm a chaplain, I can never be sure they understand the title, much less spell it. (I'm not a Chaplin, like Charlie.)

 

Some people think a chaplain is just like a church pastor. Some think chaplains are exclusive to the military. Some assume chaplains are always Christians.

After I encourage them to disavow these assumptions, they still aren't sure what chaplains do.

 

Chaplains serve in many roles, but during the years I was fully employed as a hospital chaplain, I often told folks that I was a religious translator. When they cocked their heads for better understanding, I offered this story.
 
In the early 1990s, I was working at Houston Northwest Medical Center when I found the ICU nurse manager, Grace Heffron, madly flipping through a patient's chart.
 
Grace was five feet three inches of green-eyed Italian. She charged her work with a no-nonsense approach and didn't fancy interruptions. Nevertheless, I asked her to suggest which patients might need to see a chaplain.
 
Grace shot me a look over the top of her glasses. She didn't see her job as birddogging problem-patients for me.
 
"How about bed number two," she suggested. Her voice was baited with East Coast sarcasm, but I bit nevertheless.
 
"Why, what's going on?"
 
"Oh, nothing really," she said, her volume increasing. "Nothing except for a bill passing two million and their religious family is calling us 'liars.'"
 
"That actually makes some sense," I said.

Grace slapped the chart down. None of it made sense to her.

 

"Give me a few minutes and I'll come back to say more."
 
Having her undivided but somewhat undesired attention, I retreated into the patient's room to find a 75-year-old man, suffering from a massive stroke and nearly brain-dead. Now, sixty days after admission, he was on a ventilator and radiated a nauseous aroma from multiple bedsores.
 
His daughters greeted me with suspicion, but when I offered a prayer, they instantly raised their open-palmed hands and began shouting a prayer something like this:
 
"God, we believe you've already healed our father! These doctors are liars. Our father will walk again because Romans 3:4 says, 'Let God be true but every man a liar!'"
 
It's a bit disconcerting to hear people quote the Bible back to God. It's as if they found a contractual loophole that forces God to act as they say.
 
Nonetheless, I quickly recognized their prayers were coming from "Word of Faith" theology. So after the final amen, I excused myself to the nurses' station. Grace had obviously overheard the prayer because she was fit with her best told-you-so expression.
 
"I don't think they are literally calling you liars," I said.
 
Grace leaned forward, so I offered more.
 
"They come from a faith tradition better known by the less flattering terms of 'name-it-and-claim-it' or 'Prosperity Gospel.' It's a Pentecostal-like group that believes a miracle only has a chance to work when believers publicly proclaim the desired outcome to be true; despite it being obvious to all others that it isn't true.
 
"J­ust think of it as a coarse expression of Norman Vincent Peale's Positive Thinking," I said. "The word 'liar' is a faith expression."
 
With Grace starting to see the connection, I offered a translation. "I know it's like trying to buy a yacht by telling the salesman, 'I'm a millionaire who's waiting for my lotto check to clear the bank,' but they are sincere in their expression."
 
"So what do I do?" she asked. Like most supervisors, she appreciated solutions, not problems.
 
"If you'll listen to the daughters, and not react or take it personally, I think they'll be ready to disconnect life support in a few more days." 
 
When Grace relayed my translation to the nursing staff, they began responding to the daughters with a new understanding. And once they realized that faith finds translation in all different kinds of words and rituals, they were able to obtain consent to remove the patient from life support.

 

Three days after my translation, the daughters held hands, prayed and watched their father go home to his final miracle.

 

---------------------------------------------

 

Announcement:

 

Learn more about what chaplains do by ordering my latest book, "Tell it to the Chaplain." Order online or send $20 to 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602. Email comment@thechaplain.net or message at (843) 608-9715. www.thechaplain.net.

 

While you're writing a check, consider helping Chispa Project create six new libraries, reach 4,000+ more students and 200 teachers. Your donations are needed to buy 9,000 new books. Every $100 donation will provide library access to four children. Give online today at Chispaproject.org/chaplain or make check to "Chispa Project."

 

 

 

 

 

 

April 5 - 7 column

 Don't Gamble with Faith

 

If no one wins the Powerball this week, the jackpot will skyrocket past $1 billion.

I know the odds are terribly impossible, but maybe Chaplain Norris's winning numbers can help you win that jackpot.

That's right. Today I will reveal my divinely inspired numbers.

Well, the "divine" claim is probably an overreach, but I do know that if you pick numbers above 31, you're likely to be the sole winner. That's because most people choose their birth dates.

So with that in mind, can I get a drum roll?

Chaplain Norris's winning numbers are 35-40-45-50-55-60. Bonus number 65.

 

Yup, I know choosing numbers in multiples of five may seem whacky, but statistics suggest that the odds never change no matter how many times you play or what numbers you choose. Your winning odds are similar to getting struck by lightning on your birthday two years in a row.

 

Truthfully, you really shouldn't take gambling advice from a chaplain. Unless it's "Don't gamble!"

 

But the whole lotto game provides some analogy for the way folks choose the right kind of faith.

 

Why is it that we sometimes think faith is all about luck?

 

We seek out the nearest weeping statue and drive hundreds of miles to light a candle. We say a prayer and hope a god in a good mood hears it.

 

Sometimes we search for faith like we are playing scratch cards. We scratch at the deep questions of faith, hoping to come up with a win.

 

Still others rely on some lucky combination that their grandfather passed along to them. "My granddaddy prayed for my grandmother inside that church, and she was healed, so I guess it's a winner."

 

Yet, still others rely on the big-spin approach and take the one they land on. Others see faith like picking the right card out of a newly shuffled deck.

 

And some play faith the way they play a bluffing poker hand, refusing to let anyone see the cards of doubt they hold.

 

The problem with these approaches is they produce a routine of losing, much like those who return each night to the same casino only to lose again.

 

The faith choice made with these methods usually ends up discarded, much like a Lotto ticket on a gas-station driveway.

 

Faith has little to do with winning or losing. Faith is too important to treat with the same glibness  we use to choose our winning numbers. Perhaps it's more about investing in who we are, not about gambling on what we never had.

 

Maybe faith comes about when we invest in the search. We find it inspired by the conversations, the discussions, the questions, and the debates that we have with others. In fact, I believe God prefers honest "searchers" or "questioners," even when they challenge him directly, even when they are unflattering.

 

Jesus suggested faith might well be something compared to a mustard seed. A mustard seed is the tiniest of seeds, yet in ratio, it grows into one of the biggest plants. Faith starts from the smallest beginnings in the hearts of people and produces not a personal profit, but a powerful and personal transformation.

 

Well, all this talk about winning the lottery made me wonder what might happen if I actually bought a ticket. I mean, if I ever bought just one, what might happen?

 

I may never know.

 

But if you do happen to win with my divine numbers, please remember my favorite charity – Chispa Project. I think it's fair to say that any gift can be an investment in faith.

 

Announcement:

 

Let's all place a bet on education. I'm returning to Honduras in June to help Chispa Project create six new libraries, reach 4,000+ more students and 200 teachers. Your donations are needed to buy 9,000 new books.

 

Every $100 donation will buy library access to four children. Give online today at Chispaproject.org/chaplain or make check to "Chispa Project."

 

Send donations or column comments to 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602. Email comment@thechaplain.net or message at (843) 608-9715. www.thechaplain.net.

 

 

 

 

Revision March 30 column



Editors – This new copy reflects a revision in the 10^th and 11^th graph from the bottom.

 

Win or Lose – Easter Plays the Long Game

 

Last Sunday, I was disappointed to see the men's basketball team of my beloved alma mater, Baylor University, get pushed out of the Sweet 16 by the stronger Clemson University team.

 

Nevertheless, I think I'm OK with losing. Clemson kept their ten-point advantage most of the game, but in the last few minutes, Baylor pushed within two points of tying. But, sadly, Clemson stuffed Baylor pride with enough foul shots to make the win definitive.

 

It just goes to show you, that no matter which team you root for, you must be prepared to lose.

 

In some ways, I think that's the lesson of Good Friday. The Jesus-followers, my favorite team, lost.

 

Wait, wait. Don't burn your newspaper yet.

 

I just think we'd do well to consider that Jesus lost in the sense that he was nailed to a cross. Nearly everything he said in his final three hours dripped with a conciliatory tone.

 

"Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do... Today you shall be with me in paradise. ... Woman, behold, thy son! ... My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? ... I thirst. ... It is finished. ... Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit."

 

Yes, he graciously began his talk on Calvary Hill by praying for his murderers, "Forgive them."

 

But after that, his whole "love-thy-neighbor" campaign seemed headed downhill.

 

He concludes his Last Will and Testament with – Take care of mom.

 

He calls out his Father for not watching his back.

 

And then by the time he announces, "It's finished," his spirit seems in full retreat.

 

I mean, come on man. From a military outlook, this is defeatist talk.

 

But here's the thing, the resurrection of Easter actually tells me that God didn't lose. He categorically won.

 

The losers of the day were the power-hungry folks who sought the winning favor of an earthly king. The real losers were those who'd only followed Jesus hoping he'd lead armies against their Roman oppressors, feeding his soldiers with five bread loaves and two fish.

 

The absolute losers of the day were the ones who wrapped their populist ideals in God language. Five days before, they shouted "Hosanna" in hopes Jesus could help them crush their enemies.

 

As our national elections approach, it might be good to remember the lessons of Easter.

 

Sadly, these days, Christian Nationalism has asserted the same misplaced allegiance shown by the religious people of Jesus' day.  The church has become entrenched in tribal affiliations between left and right resulting in the breakdown of relationships.

 

These folks find it easier to garner votes by demonizing the opposing political party. Players on both sides of this political game seek to restore Jesus to a seat of power that he totally rejected from the cross. 

 

Gratefully, as a follower of Christ, I can tell you that our battle is not with this world.

 

The Apostle Paul understood this because, before he was a good guy, he was AKA Saul. He lived by the sword, executing Christians for the sake of winning the struggle.  

 

But not long after his conversion, he would tell the church at Ephesus that "…our struggle is not against flesh and blood but … against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms" (Ephesians 6:12).

 

Easter means that God has already won the battle. He conquered death and all the fear that goes with it. That is victory enough for me. How about you?

 

The message of Easter is a win-win. God so loved the entire world that he gave his son.(John 3:16)

 

But we all know that verse.

 

What we fail to quote is the following verse, John 3:17. "For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him."

 

See how that goes? No condemnation.

 

Love wins. It always does because God plays the long game.

 

Happy Easter, everyone.

 

___________________

 

I found inspiration for this column in Tim Alberta's book "The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory: American Evangelicals in an Age of Extremism." (Harper Collins 2023)

 

Talk to your church about sponsoring The After Party, a free six-part video course designed to provide churches with a biblically based approach to navigating today's challenging political environment. https://redeemingbabel.org/product/the-after-party/

 

Contact Chaplain Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

March 30 column

Win or Lose – Easter Plays the Long Game

 

Last Sunday, I was disappointed to see the men's basketball team of my beloved alma mater, Baylor University, get pushed out of the Sweet 16 by the stronger Clemson University team.

 

Nevertheless, I think I'm OK with losing. Clemson kept their ten-point advantage most of the game, but in the last few minutes, Baylor pushed within two points of tying. But, sadly, Clemson stuffed Baylor pride with enough foul shots to make the win definitive.

 

It just goes to show you, that no matter which team you root for, you must be prepared to lose.

 

In some ways, I think that's the lesson of Good Friday. The Jesus-followers, my favorite team, lost.

 

Wait, wait. Don't burn your newspaper yet.

 

I just think we'd do well to consider that Jesus lost in the sense that he was nailed to a cross. Nearly everything he said in his final three hours dripped with a conciliatory tone.

 

"Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do... Today you shall be with me in paradise. ... Woman, behold, thy son! ... My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? ... I thirst. ... It is finished. ... Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit."

 

Yes, he graciously began his talk on Calvary Hill by praying for his murderers, "Forgive them."

 

But after that, his whole "love-thy-neighbor" campaign seemed headed downhill.

 

He concludes his Last Will and Testament with – Take care of mom.

 

He calls out his Father for not watching his back.

 

And then by the time he announces, "It's finished," his spirit seems in full retreat.

 

I mean, come on man. From a military outlook, this is defeatist talk.

 

But here's the thing, the resurrection of Easter actually tells me that God didn't lose. He categorically won.

 

The losers of the day were the power-hungry folks who sought the winning favor of an earthly king. The real losers were those who'd only followed Jesus hoping he'd lead armies against their Roman oppressors, feeding his soldiers with five bread loaves and two fish.

 

The absolute losers of the day were the ones who wrapped their populist ideals in God language. Five days before, they shouted "Hosanna" in hopes Jesus could help them crush their enemies.

 

As our national elections approach, it might be good to remember the lessons of Easter.

 

Sadly, these days, Christian Nationalism has asserted the same misplaced allegiance shown by the religious people of Jesus' day.  The church has become entrenched in tribal affiliations resulting in the breakdown of relationships.

 

These folks find it easier to garner votes by demonizing science, libraries, or the opposing political party. Players of this political game seek to restore Jesus to a seat of power that he totally rejected from the cross.

 

Gratefully, as a follower of Christ, I can tell you that our battle is not with this world.

 

The Apostle Paul understood this because, before he was a good guy, he was AKA Saul. He lived by the sword, executing Christians for the sake of winning the struggle. 

 

But not long after his conversion, he would tell the church at Ephesus that "…our struggle is not against flesh and blood but … against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms" (Ephesians 6:12).

 

Easter means that God has already won the battle. He conquered death and all the fear that goes with it. That is victory enough for me. How about you?

 

The message of Easter is a win-win. God so loved the entire world that he gave his son. (John 3:16)

 

But we all know that verse.

 

What we fail to quote is the following verse, John 3:17. "For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him."

 

See how that goes? No condemnation.

 

Love wins. It always does because God plays the long game.

 

Happy Easter, everyone.

 

___________________

 

I found inspiration for this column in Tim Alberta's book "The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory: American Evangelicals in an Age of Extremism." (Harper Collins 2023)

 

Talk to your church about sponsoring The After Party, a free six-part video course designed to provide churches with a biblically based approach to navigating today's challenging political environment. https://redeemingbabel.org/product/the-after-party/

 

Contact Chaplain Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail (843) 608-9715.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

March 22 column

Is Your Legacy In the Bag?

 

It seems the marketing folks won't leave us alone. They are constantly trying to sell us something.

 

They follow us everywhere. "Buy, buy, buy!" It's the mantra of a marketing world where the word "miracle" is defined by how quickly our plants grow or how white our teeth become.

 

The solicitations blast through TV commercials, emails, voicemails, texting, even through recorded infomercials wailing in medical waiting rooms. Thankfully, I can ignore most of those sources.

 

But there's one place I can't escape – the gas pump.

 

Service stations often use video displays on the pump pontificating such things as the wisdom of buying good rain tires.

 

Yet, despite all the pleas to buy things, my hospital chaplain experiences tell me that whatever I buy will likely one day be packed away in a plastic garbage bag.

 

I know this from the numerous times I was present for the end of life. Thosemoments usually started with a squawk over the public address system.

 

"Code Blue, 5 North. Code Blue, 5 North."

 

That announcement was my cue to join medical staff running toward the Intensive Care Unit. Inside the unit, the resuscitation team would surround the patient while I'd stand a few feet away beside a frantic family member.

 

We'd watch together as clothes were cut off. IVs inserted. Chest compressions made.

 

The doctor often held defibrillator paddles and rubbed them together, merging confidence and chance.

 

"Charge – clear – shock – charge – clear – shock."

 

Nothing.

 

"One ampule epinephrine," called the doc to the nurse.

 

More compressions and more shock.

 

Heads turned to the monitor. Nothing.

 

The doc placed his stethoscope on his patient's chest.

 

"I'm calling it," he'd say. 

 

This was the official pronouncement for everyone to cease their lifesaving efforts and allow the time of death to be recorded.

 

As you might imagine, I'd spend the next few minutes with the family in closing rituals and prayers.

 

Those were highly meaningful moments to the family, but eventually we came to a rather awkward time of gathering the loved one's belongings.

 

Of course, the family was unprepared for this duty, so the nurse would offer the easiest packaging available -- often a plastic bag.

 

After the family filled the bag, staff would say their goodbyes and I'd walk the family out of the hospital through the main lobby where the TV typically wailed another pitch to buy one more thing.

 

Those walks often had me wondering what it might be like when my time comes.

 

Will my bags be filled with things the marketers persuaded me to buy? And what will my children do with those bags?

 

Whatever they decide, I hope my physical possessions aren't the only things I'll pass on to them. I hope they carry a part of my faith as well.

 

Of course, faith can't be inherited from parents. That's why it's been said that "God doesn't have grandchildren, only children" — meaning a person must find his or her own faith.

 

However, it is still a legitimate part of my faith journey to regularly ask myself questions like: Will there be a part of myself worth commending to my children? What part of me do I wish they would become? And what part of my faith ends with my death?

 

I guess all those questions can only be answered superimposed with Jesus' question in Mark 8:36 and repeated throughout modern history by Gandhi, King and Kennedy.

 

"What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses his soul?"

 

Keep that question in sight and the answers you find will become a legacy worth sharing.

 

-----------------------------

 

Last call for volunteers to support Chispa Project in Honduras June 16-23. More info at www.chispaproject.org/volunteertrip.

 

Send email to comment@thechaplain.net or message at (843) 608-9715 or 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602. Order books by sending $20 to same address or online at www.thechaplain.net.

 

 

 

 

March 15 column

The ABCs of Prayer Are Elementary

There have been times that I've been found napping in my office.

My chaplain response to that is, "No, I'm not napping. This is my prayer time."

That's because in reality, I may be doing both – napping and praying. 

I call this time my "ABC prayer nap."

 

The meditative technique follows the Jewish tradition of acrostic prayers where each line of the prayer starts with a consecutive letter of the alphabet. It's a bit like playing Theological Scrabble.

 

I have three prayers I can choose from (limit, one per nap.) Each prayer begins with one of these three introductory phrases.

1. God, help me to be . . .

2. God, thank you for . . .

3. God, forgive me for being . . .

As I ease back in my office recliner, I choose one of those opening phrases followed by a request that starts the alphabet.  For instance, the first phrase might begin, "God, help me to be Assuring. Followed by, "God, help me to be a Benefit to others.

The second ABC prayer follows the advice of an old hymn: "Count your blessings, name them one by one. Count your many blessings, see what God has done."

These are prayers in which I thank God for my Children or something intangible like myDreams. Each letter stands for whatever word floats into my mind that inspires an "attitude of gratitude."

My first and second prayer formats are meant to be inward and restorative. I try to do one prayer phrase per breath, so they bring sleep quickly.

However, the third prayer – "God forgive me for being" goes deeper, helping me face my own inadequacies. 

During one recent nap, I voiced this prayer fairly quickly until I got to three letters not commonly used – I, J and K.

The letters had me searching my conscience for what I needed to ask. I remembered my wife commenting about the time I spent on the phone away from our family.

"God, forgive me for being Inattentive. Help me to be attentive and remember where you've placed me in the moment."

Since I had justified my phone usage as important business, I found it necessary to also ask God to "Forgive my desire to be Justified. I don't like being wrong. I like being right and just – sometimes at the expense of my relationships."

The next letter was much harder. "Forgive me, Lord, for Killing. Forgive me," I prayed, "for the times I've killed – or at least squelched –  the image of God I saw in others."

This word was inspired by a hard saying from Jesus. Recorded in the modern translation of the Bible called "The Message," it reads:

"I'm telling you that anyone who is so much as angry with a brother or sister is guilty of murder. Carelessly call a brother 'idiot!' and you just might find yourself hauled into court. Thoughtlessly yell 'stupid!' at a sister and you are on the brink of hellfire. The simple moral fact is that words kill."

When I use the first two prayers, I'm usually asleep before I'm halfway through. However, the forgiveness prayer will often keep me awake as I work through the entire alphabet.

But like most naps, these ABC naps often keep me awake a bit past my evening bedtime. These are the moments I've tried to explain to my wife how my "praying" is keeping us both awake.

"Hmm," she says, "Maybe next time you should reverse the alphabet. Start with "Z" and ask God to 'Forgive my desire to be so Zealous.'"

If you'd like to receive my weekly column by email, send your request to my email below.

You can read more about spiritual practices in my book, "Thriving Beyond Surviving." Buy any of my books online at www.thchaplain.net or send $20 for a signed copy to 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602. Comments received at same address or by email: comment@thechaplain.net or voicemail at (843) 608-9715.

 

 

 

March 15 column

The ABCs of Prayer Are Elementary

There have been times that I've been found napping in my office.

My chaplain response to that is, "No, I'm not napping. This is my prayer time."

That's because in reality, I may be doing both – napping and praying.

I call this time my "ABC prayer nap."

 

The meditative technique follows the Jewish tradition of acrostic prayers where each line of the prayer starts with a consecutive letter of the alphabet. It's a bit like playing Theological Scrabble.

 

I have three prayers I can choose from (limit, one per nap.) Each prayer begins with one of these three introductory phrases.

1. God, help me to be . . .

2. God, thank you for . . .

3. God, forgive me for being . . .

As I ease back in my office recliner, I choose one of those opening phrases followed by a request that starts the alphabet.  For instance, the first phrase might begin, "God, help me to be Assuring. Followed by, "God, help me to be a Benefit to others.

The second ABC prayer follows the advice of an old hymn: "Count your blessings, name them one by one. Count your many blessings, see what God has done."

These are prayers in which I thank God for my Children or something intangible like my Dreams. Each letter stands for whatever word floats into my mind that inspires an "attitude of gratitude."

My first and second prayer formats are meant to be inward and restorative. I try to do one prayer phrase per breath, so they bring sleep quickly.

However, the third prayer – "God forgive me for being" goes deeper, helping me face my own inadequacies. 

During one recent nap, I voiced this prayer fairly quickly until I got to three letters not commonly used – I, J and K.

The letters had me searching my conscience for what I needed to ask. I remembered my wife commenting about the time I spent on the phone away from our family.

"God, forgive me for being Inattentive. Help me to be attentive and remember where you've placed me in the moment."

Since I had justified my phone usage as important business, I found it necessary to also ask God to "Forgive my desire to be Justified. I don't like being wrong. I like being right and just – sometimes at the expense of my relationships."

The next letter was much harder. "Forgive me, Lord, for Killing. Forgive me," I prayed, "for the times I've killed – or at least squelched –  the image of God I saw in others."

This word was inspired by a hard saying from Jesus. Recorded in the modern translation of the Bible called "The Message," it reads:

"I'm telling you that anyone who is so much as angry with a brother or sister is guilty of murder. Carelessly call a brother 'idiot!' and you just might find yourself hauled into court. Thoughtlessly yell 'stupid!' at a sister and you are on the brink of hellfire. The simple moral fact is that words kill."

When I use the first two prayers, I'm usually asleep before I'm halfway through. However, the forgiveness prayer will often keep me awake as I work through the entire alphabet.

But like most naps, these ABC naps often keep me awake a bit past my evening bedtime. These are the moments I've tried to explain to my wife how my "praying" is keeping us both awake.

"Hmm," she says, "Maybe next time you should reverse the alphabet. Start with "Z" and ask God to 'Forgive my desire to be so Zealous.'"

If you'd like to receive my weekly column by email, send your request to my email below.

You can read more about spiritual practices in my book, "Thriving Beyond Surviving." Buy any of my books online at www.thchaplain.net or send $20 for a signed copy to 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602. Comments received at same address or by email: comment@thechaplain.net or voicemail at (843) 608-9715.