If I sit or stand, you know it.
I can’t hide my thoughts from you.
If I run an errand or take a nap,
You know my routines
And every break from them.
You hear every word I speak,
Before I say them.
You are in front of me
And behind me,
To my right and to my left,
Above me and below me.
I dwell in the bowl of your hand.
This makes my head ache,
Trying to think of something about me
You don’t know about.
(Everyday Psalms, Psalm 139, page 313)
When I pray the details of my life (or anyone else’s life), I acknowledge the importance of those details. I’m not the first to say it, but God is in the details. They matter to him, so they should matter to me.
If God isn’t interested in the small things, is he really interested in the big things? And if he’s more interested in bigger things, then how big do they need to be to interest him?
If we are of any interest at all to God, the all of who we are and what we do is of interest to him. Christian spirituality isn’t just a matter of the soul, of so-called spiritual disciplines. It’s holistic: All of life brought before God and reassembled into a coherent whole like a puzzle. And if you’ve ever done a puzzle, you know it’s the bland seeming pieces that are the hardest to fit together, the last pieces usually set aside till the end. But they are just as much a part of the puzzle as the more colorful piece, and the puzzle isn’t whole until they’ve been included with the rest.
By teaching us to pray for our daily bread, Jesus put our most basic, mundane, boring, and yet absolutely essential needs into this central prayer of Christian spirituality. The very dailiness of them makes them that much more important to pray. Without our daily bread, we die.
This is what draws me and others into so many daily Celtic prayers. These ancient prayers sprang from and offered to God the details of their lives, causing them to engage with and encounter God in these details. The Irish prayed the putting on of their clothes in the morning and the taking off of them at night. They prayed the kindling of their fires and walking out of their front doors. They prayed their journeys and their homecomings.
All of life is a gift and all of it is prayable. No detail is too small, too insignificant to be prayed. Spend some time with a four-year-old who prays for every one of her toys and you’ll be spending time with someone who lives fully in the presence and love of God.
Prayer: In my rising each morning and in my lying down each night, be with me, my God. In my going out and my returning home, lead me, my God. In the clothes I wear and the food I eat, wrap me and nourish me, my God. In the details of my life, may I know your presence and provision for you inhabit them all. Amen.
OR
I offer you the many pieces of my life, Lord. The colorful ones. The dull ones. The ones I’m proud of. The ones I’m ashamed of. Piece me together. Make something whole, someone whole from this puzzling mess. And may they all — the seemingly insignificant details too — come together in a way that mirrors you and brings you glory. Amen.