Sally Weaver Glick and some of her spiritual directees find it difficult to pray during these troubled times, but she finds hope in the idea of the river of prayer.
Sally Weaver Glick is a spiritual director, writer and photographer from Goshen, Indiana. She’s a graduate of Anabaptist Mennonite Biblical Seminary, and she offers spiritual companionship in person and online. Her contact information and some of her contemplative photography and writing can be found on her blog, Sparks of Light. She is a member of Open Table Mennonite Fellowship and of the Mennonite Spiritual Directors Network.
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I woke in the wee hours of the morning, in memory of sitting, again, with yesterday’s directee, who was carrying grief and anger and loss. Like other directees in recent months, she grieved the impotence of not knowing what she could do yet feeling like she should be doing something. Old ways of praying and doing do not meet the demands of current realities. Promises of “thoughts and prayers” seem totally inadequate. How, then, could she pray?
I am holding similar questions. Wendell Berry, in his poem “The Peace of Wild Things,” wrote of waking in the night, full of despair for the world and fear for what his life and that of his children might be. His answer was to find still water, the peace of wild things, the grace of “day-blind stars waiting with their light.” I am not getting up to go out in the dark tonight, but I can go in memory and imagination.
And yet, when part of the despair I carry is for the climate chaos of the world and the stars’ light is hidden by the haze from wildfires burning in the north, drought worsens famine in areas suffering from poverty and war, and fierce storms sweep the south, my memories of renewal in the woods or by the still water will only go so far. How do I pray for God’s beloved creation, while watching the effects of human exploitation and disregard for that creation? How do I pray for all God’s beloved children, when some of those children seem bent on causing more chaos and devastation?
In the early morning darkness, I come back to the song that was my prayer during the COVID-19 lockdown. My mother was in nursing care then, with Parkinson’s disease and related dementia. She did not understand what was happening or why we could talk by phone, but I could not come in. I would wake in the wee hours of the morning, with my heart aching for her, and then I would go on to grieve for the disruptions and death around the world.
The song in the night that came then was the refrain from an old African-American spiritual, one that encouraged those escaping enslavement on their journey north, the night stars the “starry crown” that showed them the way.
“Oh, mothers, let’s go down, down to the river to pray.”
As the line sang in my head, over and over, I could picture my mother and myself, and many others, making our way down to the river of prayer that flows from the heart of God. I could wordlessly join in the Spirit’s prayer for the world with sighs too deep for words, join her song of living water and the healing of the nations.
When I meet with my directee again, we will once again talk about what shape her prayer might take in these troubled times. If the Spirit so leads, I may ask what night stars my directee is finding, what songs in the night she has received and where she finds herself joining in those sighs too deep for words.
Learn more about the Mennonite Spiritual Directors Network at mennosdn.org.
You can find links to the Spiritual Directors Network website and other congregational and ministerial resources on MC USA’s Church Vitality webpage: https://www.mennoniteusa.org/
The views and opinions expressed in this blog belong to the author and are not intended to represent the views of the MC USA Executive Board or staff.