By Amy Butler
As a pastor, I have plenty occasion to pray, both in formal expressions like Sunday morning worship and the many casual occasions when someone says off-hand, “Let’s ask Amy to pray for us; she’s a pastor!”
So curiously, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the absence of prayer in our lives. Real prayer, prayer that speaks to the reality of the moment, prayer that invites God into the regular moments of life, prayer that becomes so much a part of life that we don’t think twice about it.
I am not the only one thinking about these things. Travis Norvell, a Baptist preacher in New Orleans, got the idea for a prayer experiment after hearing a story on NPR about a street-side poet who writes poems for people on a street corner. “Why not prayers?” he thought.
Feeling, as I have, a general absence of meaningful prayer, Norvell decided to go to the streets and set up a prayer table. For his venue he chose the opening gate to the New Orleans Jazz Fest. He propped up a sign that read, “Above Average Prayers @ Below Market Prices (Donations),” pulled out a working manual typewriter and got to work. Truth be told, he was hoping to earn enough for a ticket to the Fest and some of the fabulous food there, but there was more, too.
He says: “I’ve often thought prayer is one of the church’s greatest gifts and it is a shame more people do not know about it. Maybe that was my real impetus. What would happen if you offered prayers in a non-traditional way? Would people respond to it in a positive or at least interesting way?”
What did people think of such an off-the-grid presentation? They liked it. Aside from a few naysayers accusing Norvell of trying to profit from a religious exercise, it turns out many people wanted prayer. There were people looking to bless a special occasion like a wedding, but most just wanted a connection to the Divine.
Hearing about Norvell’s experience and given my personal ponderings on prayer I wondered, “Isn’t that the case with us all?” We all want to feel that prayer is powerful. We want to connect with God, even in the midst of our day-to-day reality. We want to know that the Divine hears our prayers.
And, so, what is it going to take? A major music festival attended by a cleric with a manual typewriter? Maybe.
Or maybe it’s the spirit of this effort that holds our direction. We have to find a way — whatever way we can — to voice our deepest fears, biggest concerns and the minutia of human life to the One who hears us whether we believe it or not.
It might mean pulling out our old manual typewriters and taking to the streets, or maybe it will take just saying what we need today. God is a God who hears us. It’s a question of whether we’re willing to voice the words.