The Missing Middle

You can hardly open a periodical without coming across the statement that what our civilization needs is more 'drive,' or dynamism, or self-sacrifice, or 'creativity.' In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function. We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful. (C. S. Lewis, The Abolition of Man, "Men Without Chests")

A certain ruler asked him,

“Good teacher, 

what must I do 

to inherit eternal life?”

 

 “Why do you call me good?” 

Jesus answered. 

“No one is good—

except God alone." (Luke 18:18-19)

 

I have my reasons

I have my drives

But I have no purpose

Just a will to survive

 

I thought happiness

would be enough, you see

but my world collapsed

to a ruined heap

 

Then happiness fled

like a shadow

the fleeting shadow

it had always been

 

Then I knew my purpose

with its reasonable reasons

could not stand on its own

No shadow can

 

I found the hole

 in my middle

where a heart

should be

 

I found an absence

where such shadows are born

illusions of happy

from unliveable dreams

Then, like turning 

over a rock

I saw something

underneath

The darkness

was not the bottomless

pit it promised

but a door

A door promises

something more

a way through

the darkness

but not around

and happiness

would not let

me enter

Only surrender could

make me give it up

for a time

so I could hear

gentle knocking

at the back of my mind

another reason

another will to find

I knew I'd rather

be miserable

in your arms

than chasing dreams

that I own

I thought that

being held close

kept me tied down

but it was living

with such fear of pain

that held me

transfixed and immobile.

In your hand

I am broken open

not apart

I am broken in

not crushed flat

 

In your hand

pain has its place

in this heart you hold

so the head sees rightly

the feet stand firmly

where joy and peace abide

and where both pain and happiness

are welcome guests

 

Prayer and Will

Devotional Classics, Evelyn Underhill, Excerpts from The Essentials of Mysticism

"The determined fixing of our will upon God, and pressing toward him steadily and without deflection; this is the very center and the art of prayer. The most theological of thoughts soon becomes inadequate; the most spiritual of emotions is only a fairweather breeze. Let the ship take advantage of it by all means, but not rely on it. She must be prepared to beat windward if she would reach her goal." (p. 115)

Underhill has just explained that "the transition from inaction to action unfolds itself in a certain order. . . . First, we think, then we feel, then we will." (p.114) She does not denigrate thinking in prayer, she only says that "reason comes to the foot of the mountain; it is the industrious will urged by the passionate heart which climbs the slope." (ibid) Feeling is dynamic, unlike thought, and moves me to something, but it does fluctuate.

The action of the will, which Underhill describes as "intention," is what keeps prayer and other activities going in my life. My will can keep moving even when I am "mentally dull" or "emtionally flat." My will cannot continue with the complete absence of thought or feeling, but it can continue on even when no new thought or moving feeling exists.

The will seems to be a sort of spiritual inertia. It keeps me going along the lines of my thoughts and feelings. Intention reaches out into the future from a very definite past decision. Underhill identifies this inertia as the center and art of prayer. The picture of sailing is very compelling for me. Sometimes the winds are favorable, sometimes not, but intention sets the course.

I see my will at work in sinful ways. I can work "steadily and without deflection" toward things I want very much, even if my mind and feelings are fluctuating. The force of habit and intention will keep moving me forward off that cliff. In the same way prayer can continue to move forward under the force of habit and intention. Perhaps this is a way to describe unceasing prayer.

Such a decision is hard to come to. There seem to be so many good reasons not to pray - perhaps the foremost reason being a perceived lack of efficacy in prayer. It just doesn't seem to do a lot to pray. Such is the voice of having little faith. I can see my half-heartedness in prayer more easily through the model of inertia. If the "push" of thought and feeling is off-center or weak, then the resultant intention will not carry me far into prayer.

Lord, I marvel at how much your Spirit helps me in my inner life of thought and feeling so that my will, ever so weak) can be aligned with yours. I know you carry me more often that I can imagine. But I also know that you have commanded that my whole self be aligned with you in love. I cannot move this ship of devotion toward you without your winds and without your guidance. Without you I am dead in the water. But you have placed me at the helm. May I obey your directions prayer-ward. Thank you for never being far off. Amen.

Underhill says it well when she talks of dead times of prayer: "On such occasions it is notoriously useless to try to beat ourselves up to a froth: to make ourselves think more deeply or make ourselves care more intensely." Continuing on is the hardest work possible some days, but I need only wait and not divert my attention from God. In those moments I become most aware of the struggle of faith: Will I wait for him or not? Will I trust him or not? I find that the action of will often brings the thoughts and feelings around, pulling them out of their inactivity. Actually, when prayer is hard, it is usually not that my thoughts and feelings are dead; they are just occupied elsewhere and need to be called back. So my will is not only pushed by them, but pulls them where it has been pushed to.