Sunday Messages

Sunday Message Quotes, Stories, and Resources
The resources you find here may not exactly match the message as used in our Sunday service. Spirit often has its own ideas about that.

“Crazy Prayer”

April 24, 2005

Outline of the message and references:

I found a crazy prayer the other day by a poet, Peter G. Frechette. He wrote a poem about prayer. He prayed for crazy things: Shakespeare — dead grandfather — Buddha — Allah — the Great Whale — the bus driver — dogs, cats and strawberries. He said crazy things about prayer too: he said that prayer is slicing carrots, brushing your hair, that making love is holy. That’s crazy prayer — or is it?

Mary L. Kupferle, The Light Will Dawn, page 36
Prayer is a way of life and thinking, feeling, and doing.

Donald Curtis, New Age Understanding, page 54
Prayer is a way of life, not just something to be dabbled in, but something to be lived.

Martha Smock, Meet it with Faith, page 73
There are no set formulas for effective prayer, no rules that must be followed in order to achieve results, for prayer is not a form but force. It is the need in us to find and know the healing, the answer, the reason for our being, to know ourselves in God, to know God in us.

Charles Fillmore, Talks on Truth, page 11, 12
It is not necessary to go in state to God. If you had a friend at your elbow at all times who could answer your every question and who loved to serve you, you certainly would not feel it necessary to go down on your knees to him or ask a favor with fear and trembling. . . . Never be formal with God. He cares no more for forms and ceremonies than do the principles of mathematics for fine figures or elaborate blackboards.

You cannot use God too often. He loves to be used, and the more you use Him the more easily you use Him and the more pleasant His help becomes. If you want a dress, a car, a house . . . going on a journey, giving a friend a present, running for office, or reforming a nation, ask God for guidance, in a moment of silent soul desire.

Nothing is too wicked or unholy to ask God about . . . 13 If you are doing things that are considered wicked, you will find swift safety in asking God first, then acting or refraining, as you are moved. Some people act as if they thought that they could hide themselves from the one omnipresent intelligence, but this is the conclusion of thoughtlessness. God knows everything you do, and you might just as well have His advice . . .

Charles Fillmore believed in crazy prayer. Peter Frechette believed in crazy prayer — this is what he said:

Peter G. Frechette
Pray to whoever you kneel down to: Jesus nailed to his wooden or marble or plastic cross, his suffering face bent to kiss you, Buddha still under the Bo tree in scorching heat, Yahweh, Allah, raise your arms to Mary that she may lay her palm on our brows, to Shekinhah, Queen of Heaven and Earth, to Inanna in her stripped descent. Hawk or Wolf, or the Great Whale, Record Keeper of time before, time now, time ahead, pray. Bow down to terriers and shepherds and siamese cats. Fields of artichokes and elegant strawberries. Pray to the bus driver who takes you to work, pray on the bus, pray for everyone riding that bus and for everyone riding buses all over the world. If you haven’t been on a bus in a long time, climb the few steps, drop some silver, and pray. Waiting in line for the movies, for the ATM, for your latti and croissant, offer your plea. Make your eating and drinking a supplication. Make your slicing of carrots a holy act, each translucent layer of the onion, a deeper prayer. Make the brushing of your hair a prayer, every strand its own voice, singing in the choir on your head. As you wash your face, the water slipping through your fingers, a prayer: Water, softest thing on earth, gentleness that wears away rock. Making love, of course, is already a prayer. Skin and open mouths worshipping that skin, the fragile case we are poured into, each caress a season of peace. If you’re hungry, pray. If you’re tired. Pray to Gandhi and Dorothy Day. Shakespeare. Sappho. Sojourner Truth. Pray to the angels and the ghost of your grandfather. When you walk to your car, to the mailbox, to the video store, let each step be a prayer that we all keep our legs, that we do not blow off anyone else’s legs. Or crush their skulls. And if you are riding on a bicycle or a skateboard, in a wheel chair, each revolution of the wheels a prayer that as the earth revolves we will do less harm, less harm, less harm. And as you work, typing with a new manicure, a tiny palm tree painted on one pearlescent nail or delivering soda or drawing good blood into rubber-capped vials, writing on a blackboard with yellow chalk, twirling pizzas, pray for peace. With each breath in, take in the faith of those who have believed when belief seemed foolish, who persevered. With each breath out, cherish. Pull weeds for peace, turn over in your sleep for peace, feed the birds for peace, each shiny seed that spills onto the earth, another second of peace. Wash your dishes, call your mother, drink wine. Shovel leaves or snow or trash from your sidewalk. Make a path. Mumble along like a crazy person, stumbling your prayer through the streets.

Make life a prayer — make your crazy life a crazy prayer.

My Life is a Prayer:
A Prayer of Life, Love and Joy.