A Coward's Prayer

upon going to church

Photo by Pedro Lima on Unsplash

Dear Lord,

I pray for my time at church: for the worship, the message, and the interactions with people. 

I pray my worship would be transcendent. I pray that I would forget all my troubles—the morning fight to get everyone ready, the fraudulent charges to the credit card, the rat droppings I found in the side yard this morning, and how I'm going to stand being with relatives next weekend after the way they snubbed me. May these earthly issues stay out of my mind as the music blasts out all other noises, as the psychedelic slides mesmerize my eyes, and the melody gives me an emotional experience.

May my worship time be exceptional in my opinion, without all those elements that bring me face to face with the imperfections of my church—the tone-deaf neighbors, the base turned up too loud, or a song that I don't particularly think is spiritual enough. May this worship be perfect in my eyes and thus, never once actually usher me into the presence of a perfect God who might show me how to turn the morning fight, the fraudulent charges, the rat dropping, and the wounds from relatives into humble worship before an almighty God.

I pray for my receiving of the message from the pastor. Rather, I pray his message would not be too long or too boring or too unsettling. And if it is too long, may I remember how well I watched the clock when I was a teacher in my own classroom. And if it is too boring, may I remember that I can always get a real good message elsewhere. And if it is too unsettling—going on and on about giving to the poor or serving in the church or the dangers of being rich—, may I have all my self-defenses in place: I sponsor a child in Sudan, I help out in the nursery once a month, and if I didn't make all this money, who would support this church and its pastors anyways?

May the message that I hear today thus assure me of my own righteousness, which I am so prone to believing in anyways because . . . well, because if I stop believing in it, I'm quite certain a part of me would die. May I be able to block out all inklings of conviction and repentance, which might lead me to feeling emotional and discontented with my goodness, a thing that protects me from God's goodness and rest and peace.

And Lord remember too my interactions with all these church people today. May I rub shoulders only with those pleasant people who are easy to talk to and who share common life circumstances with me. May I greet them with composure, and may I leave them with the impression that I am someone wise or sweet or unique or good or accomplished or strong. May their praises bolster me up for another week, which has the tendency to suck the life out of me, because I have once again not eaten the bread of life who I so foolishly believe is only available within these church walls and in moving songs and people who never get on my nerves.

And in closing God, please keep my experience of you confined to a pulsation in my frontal lobe and may it never bring me to tears in front of others because that's too embarrassing, and may it never compel me to kneel because that's too dramatic, and may it never spur me to give up for that is too frightening.

Dear Lord, who I fear with all my being, please, leave me as I am...

Without Jesus,

Amen