When I pray, I focus my awareness on my consciousness of God’s presence. This morning, I prayed on the Mary and Martha story where Mary is at Jesus’s feet, enthralled, while Martha is in the kitchen, fretting because she got stuck with all the grunt work. Jesus says, ‘Don’t worry about all that, Martha. Mary is doing the more important thing; she’s got it right. She is loving me.’ Unlike Martha, Mary spends her time being in love, like, steeping in it, in the deepest part of the ocean where the gem of God’s love resides.
And so this morning I focused on that love and realized I felt guilty about wanting to feel loved, for doesn’t Saint Francis urge us to love rather than to be loved?
“O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.”
Spirit interceded, whispering, ‘Let us love you, Polly. Let us love you. That is our gift to you.’ I was conscious of how precious that love felt, how exquisite that endowment.
But I had trouble relaxing into that love, into the luxury of it. I realized that it is far more difficult for me to receive than to give because, in giving, I feel a modicum of control. When I am the giver, I have a bit more power. In receiving, I must surrender, let go entirely, and be vulnerable.
I heard the whispers. ‘Enjoy our gift to you.’ So I let go, and the love of God filled my heart.
Later that morning as I went about my day reading work emails and articles, I became aware of such love I felt for all of us, for the entire human family, like it was brimming over within my heart. And I thought, by letting love in, by receiving love in prayer, allowing it to sink deep within my heart, I respond with loving-kindness for all.
And this is why I pray, because it fills my heart and pours loving kindness into the world. This is the power of prayer — to create consciousness that is healing rather than hurtful — something we all need.