Praying without Ceasing

I remember one evening when I was in high school youth group at which we were being quite obnoxious. In the middle of the a rousing rendition of some NKOTB song (a regular Wednesday night feature to poke fun at the girls of the group), Our leaders decided to introduce us to the "Jesus Prayer."

The lights strobed in the room to get our attention, we all found seats on the garbage sofas people had given to the church, and then the room went dark. At the time, I assumed this has been an emergency plan the leaders had trained to enact, but the conditions never warranted it. I also assumed they were making it all up.

"Quiet," one of the leaders said. "This is an exercise in prayer. It is very simple. Close your eyes and breathe. As you are breathing in, think the words 'Jesus Christ, Lord of all' and then exhale to the words 'have mercy on me, a sinner.'" Frankly, I was OK with the silence. I remember the new freshmen were annoying us all to no end, so they were all forces to shut their pie holes for a moment.

I began breathing, but was distracted by the HVAC clicking on and off. I could hear the clock on the wall ticking and the hum of the lighting transformers in the gym on the other side of the wall. I heard the freshmen giggling and expelling gas. It didn't seem like this method of prayer was doing anything. We were told this was a way to enter into the "presence of God," but all it did for me was make me more aware of all the things that lurk in the shadows of our senses.

Twenty minutes into the exercise, however, I had a moment of comfort. I don't know how to describe it ... kind of like spinning, but mostly just joy. It didn't last, but it was a moment I sought to recreate for many years after that ... even during my anti-church college/post-college days. I carried that simple prayer with me for years and would find myself breathing it unintentionally. "Jesus Christ, Lord of all; have mercy on me, a sinner."

Fast-forward 12 years. When I got to seminary, we were given a text to read called The Pilgrim's Tale. In this story, a Russian Orthodox man was seeking what it meant to pray without ceasing. The church wouldn't tell him, but he was undaunted in his search. Eventually, he met a starets (Russian Orthodox monastic elder) who told him, to pray without ceasing, he should do this:

Sit down in silence. Lower your head, shut your eyes, breathe out gently, and imagine yourself looking into your own heart. Carry your mind, that is, your thoughts, from your head to your heart. As you breathe out, say, "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me." Say it moving your lips gently, or simply say it in your mind. Try to put all other thoughts aside. Be calm, be patient, and repeat the process very frequently.

"Crap. I've heard this before," I thought as I read it aloud. "They weren't making it up after all." It seems that maybe those youth leaders did bring me into the presence of God; or maybe God became present in their prayer exercise. But I was wrong about recreating the moment. As that prayer hung with me, so did God's presence on my heart. I think I was living in prayer without even knowing it.

I still pray that prayer often. So much so that I don't even think about the words anymore. I simply breathe. Inhale grace, exhale my sin. I need to thank those freshmen, I think.