Before I moved half-way across the country to start classes at Duke Divinity School, I asked Ryan Ford whether or not he thought I would lose my soul in seminary. “Not if you remain a contemplative,” was his response. With that in mind, I have doggedly and determinedly done my best to maintain the daily practice of lectio divina I began when a student at LA Tech* (see footnote). Over the course of the past year and a half, I have spent daily time in James, Exodus, John, and a handful of Psalms. I was incredibly fortunate to have been formed by folks at The Wesley who treated prayer like it was a matter of life and death. In many ways, the experience of seminary has heightened or intensified my own feeling of dependency on prayer. The combination of a rigorous first-year course load, being in a brand new state, working, vocational discernment, and maintaining a freshly long-distanced relationship challenged my ability to remain disciplined in a whole new way. I learned very quickly, though, that I would die (most definitely spiritually and maybe even literally) if I abandoned my practice or only half-heartedly committed to it.

So, I kept praying. Because it made all the difference in my disposition, my love for my neighbor, and my ability to fully engage with my coursework. In all likelihood, I might have dropped out after the first semester if it had not been for the way God met me in prayer. Not necessarily because I ended up receiving some gloriously divine revelation through my practice, but perhaps it was more so because prayer kept me connected to the reality of life – that I belonged to God and that God, for whatever reason, had made his home in me. This brought a measure of life with me into the classroom and into my ministry job that was previously lacking. I was no longer interested in talking about vague institutional issues or the essential qualities of God’s “God-ness.” Instead, my conversations with those around me were filled with questions like, “Do we love God? Do we engage scripture without pushing our own agenda? Are we poor and needy? Because theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” And I think I needed to stay in this place of simple devotion for a while, probably to remind myself that in the midst of all that was transitioning around me, God was not far off.

As I have settled into Durham and surrounded myself with good folks, I can feel prayer become less of a thing I grasp for and more of a thing that is deeply rooted in my identity. This is not to say that my prayer is mind-blowing every morning, but that I am in the simple habit of trying to know him. Prayer keeps the mystery of the faith so fresh for me and fills me with a sense of wonder. This disposition towards the language of prayer is something I treasure most when I remember my time at LA Tech Wesley. I have a vivid memory of Ryan, during one of our leadership team meetings, admonishing us students to ask one another about our prayer lives. While I'm sure it was awkward and forced in the beginning, it very quickly became difficult to spend any amount of time around Wesley folks without hearing someone talk about the wildness of scripture – and all the joy, dismay, confusion, and comfort that it brings. Or, the way God was answering their intercessions in miraculous ways.

I'm happy to report that this conversational habit still continues among the Wesley alumni. One of the greatest joys of my post-Wesley life is the reliability with which I can call any of the folks back home and have our talk inevitably turn into a sharing of what prayer has looked like in that particular season. Not only is prayer an excellent source of individual formation and encounter, it spreads out into the rest of the Body of Christ as an edifying source of life. There are few things as powerful as a community of believers who know how to labor together in prayer. I am reminded of James 5:16 where he writes, “...confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working.” Over the summer as I was praying through this verse, I could not shake the communal nature of James’ instruction (that confession and healing are not private affairs) and that such dependence on the praying community leads to personal healing. Our whole Christian life seems wrapped up in a circle of talking to God and talking to our neighbors about what God has told us.

If nothing else, believe me when I tell you that prayer is good! It is a gift! And you should receive it and tell all your friends about it. Lord willing, the day I stop praying on this earth will be the day I find myself in his full presence – where creation was always meant to be.

* If you have been cheated out of an explanation of this practice, it is a form of prayer marked by slow, sustained attention to scripture, meditation, silence, and intercession. Here are two suggestions if you’d like to explore lectio divina in greater depth: (1) The Art of Sacred Reading by Michael Casey (2) Praying the Bible by Andrea Mariano Magrassi.

Do You Pray to God?: Bekah Beck

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