There are times when our prayers seem to go off course, like a ship drifting towards rocky shoals. How do we "right the ship"? ​One powerful way is to look to the Scriptures and speak God's Word back to Him. Here is a new poem I wrote that addresses this; it's called "Righting prayer's ship" (3 min 29 sec)

Monasteries were known for their scheduled prayers throughout the day. Regular times of praying and meditating on the Word are spiritually nourishing. Under normal circumstances, we are packing lunches, rushing out the door, negotiating the commute to work, responding to emails... the list goes on. The opportunity to retreat to a holy huddle can be very enticing during the craziness of life! Indeed, there are benefits to retreating from the world for a time and learning again how to "be still and know" that he is God (Psalm 46:10). Although Christians shouldn’t return to the cloistered lifestyles of monasticism, we have been “forced” into monk-like living (for a time) with our current COVID-19 pandemic lock-down.

Since we have more time and more flexibility with our time, Christians ought to be capitalizing on the opportunities we have for prayer throughout the day. In a previous post, I mentioned following some of the prayer times used by monasteries for your own times of prayer and reflection.

In this post, I want to begin examining ways to keep our prayers fresh and focused. 

Ways to pray

1) Reading Prayers
The Bible doesn’t provide an explicit blueprint on how we should pray. There are guides on what to pray, such as the Lord’s Prayer, the Psalms, or the recorded prayers of so many Bible characters, especially the Apostle Paul.  Such portions of Scripture are an essential and very helpful guide to praying. I hope to write more on this in my next Monk’s Guide post.

In this post, I want to reflect on ways we can pray throughout the day while working from home in lockdown. Besides scheduling times for prayer, we can also use tools to help us stay alert and engaged. One tool I use to start my day with an attitude of supplication is reading written prayers from church history. I use a book of collected prayers (see image below). While I am waiting for the kettle to boil for my morning cup of Joe, I pop open this book to the Morning Prayer of the day and prayerfully read the short poem. I often read the evening prayer before I go to bed at night. The written prayers help to focus my thoughts on crying out to God. Especially during my morning of pre-coffee grogginess.

I should note that there has been some controversy in the history of the church about “reading” prayers versus speaking “extemporaneous” prayers. The truth is I believe we can benefit from both sorts of praying. Both ways to pray can be Spirit-led and authentic or they can be dead, repetitive doggerel. I have heard “extemporaneous” prayers that really consist of several stock phrases memorized through repetition and strung together as though it's an off-the-cuff prayer. I have also heard very liberal congregations recite rich and theologically profound liturgical prayers and not mean a single word.

Evangelicals often balk at written prayers, yet they would also balk at extemporaneous preaching. Although congregations don't want their preacher to read his notes, they are thankful that he has prepared his message in advance. We also sing pre-written hymns in worship, so why wouldn't we be open to pre-written prayers?Whatever the case, I have been tremendously blessed by inspiring times of extemporanoues prayer and from times of prayerfully reading well-crafted prayers-of-old. In your own private mediations (as well as public worship), I believe there is a place for using both written prayers and extemporaneous prayers. I find that reading a prayer teaches me how to pray. These prayers often apply biblical and theological truths to real living. Reading and speaking aloud these prayers have a way of softening my heart and humbling my spirit before the Lord. During my personal devotions, I have also read from the Anglican Book of Common Prayer. Such prayers have helped train my heart and mind for extemporaneous praying. It is way of “priming the pump” of my own personal praise, pleas, and confessions before the Lord. These pre-written prayers have also taught me how to pray the Bible more effectively. In the next post, I will examine the best source of what to pray, and that is praying the Bible itself. Nevertheless, reading the written prayers of saints like Spurgeon, Calvin, and Luther are helpful aids in showing you how to speak to God in your daily circumstances.

2) The Posture of Prayer
Another helpful tool to praying is to remember your body. In his excellent book on prayer, Letters of Malcolm, C.S. Lewis writes, “the body ought to pray as well as the soul. Body and soul are both better for it.”[1] I don’t always pray on my knees, but I do find that the taking on a posture of prayer has often helped in times of particular weariness or distraction. Praying on your knees doesn’t make my prayers more holy or more acceptable to God. Only Jesus makes our prayers acceptable and pleasing to God. What this posture does is use our bodies to help our spirits pray. Pride is one of the great obstacles to prayer, and kneeling helps foster humility. We sometimes forget that we have bodies as well as souls. We need to be spiritually minded in our physical activities as much as being physically minded in our spiritual activities. In short, variety of postures can help us keep engaged, focused, and in the right frame of mind during times of daily prayers. Joe Rigney helpfully summarizes Lewis’s advice:
​

• Practically speaking, this means that we ought to sometimes kneel to pray, stand to pray, bow our heads to pray, raise our hands or hold hands to pray, or take some other appropriate physical posture. Likewise, keeping our eyes focused on a particular object can promote attentiveness in prayer; visual concentration helps spiritual concentration.[2]

It should be no surprise that communing with our Creator requires the commitment of heart, mind, and soul. Such is the commandment given to us in both the Old and New Testment (see Matthew 22:37). Paul also speaks of offering our bodies as a living sacrifice (Romans 12:1). We know in practice that our physical weariness or appetities can have a tremendous impact on our spiritual experiences, so it should mean that how we use our bodies (eating well, sleeping well, exercising, etc) as well as our physical posture can also have positive impacts on our spiritual lives as well. Likewise, meditating and praying have a positive impact on our physical bodies. According to several studies done in “Blue Zones” (areas around the world with unusually long-living inhabitants[3]), a key ingredient to health and longevity is regular times of prayer and meditation.  Reading—another habit of monks—also prolongs life![4] Maybe those monks were on to something!

3) Praying on the Move: prayer walks
Another helpful aid to praying is going on a prayer walk. We are stuck in our homes, but that doesn't mean we can't go for a stroll in the neighbourhood and lift up our hearts and thoughts to God in prayer as we do so. Pastor and author Mike Wilkins writes that he developed a helpful habit of walking and praying early in his ministry. As he walked a neighbourhood block, he devoted each side of the rectangle to different topics of prayer. He notes, “A very significant thing about my ‘walking in prayer’ has always been that, for the entire event, I remained mentally alert.” Sitting in prayer, he writes, often leads to “drowsing in prayer.”[5] 

Make the most of your lock-down and carve out some times to pray throughout the day!

Next Monk's Guide post: What to pray... Praying God's words back to God!

[1]  C.S. Lewis, Letters to Malcolm (New York: Harper Collins, 2017), 21
[2] Rigney, Joe. “C.S. Lewis and the Role of the Physical Body in Prayer.” Crossway, April 23, 2018. https://www.crossway.org/articles/cs-lewis-and-the-role-of-the-physical-body-in-prayer/.
[3] www.bluezones.com
[4] Bavishi, A., Slade, M. D., & Levy, B. R. (2016). A chapter a day: Association of book reading with longevity. Social science & medicine (1982), 164, 44–48. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.socscimed.2016.07.014
[5] Mike Wilkins, Four Forty-Four (London: Tellwell, 2018), 9.

Although good poetry is often complex and enigmatic, there is a value in verse that is both lucid and lyrical. The poetry of the Psalms, for example, is beautiful yet understandable at first glance. Worship songs and hymns are other examples of lyrical yet easy to understand poetry. In his poem “Jordan (1),” the 17th century English poet George Herbert challenges his fellow poets’ penchant for convoluted verse. Instead, he argues for clarity: “is all good structure a winding stair? […] Must all be veil’d, while he that reads, divines, catching the sense at two removes?”[1] Reading poetry doesn’t have to resemble ascending (or descending?) a staircase designed by M. C. Escher. Like Herbert, I believe there is room for good poetry that clearly speaks to the reader. Here is a pair of sonnets I wrote that are intended to be clear (I hope!) but also meaningful. The pair of poems is called "Symposium," and the sonnets represent a glipmse into a discussion between a preacher and a lost soul. 
[1] George Herbert, “Jordan (1)” The Temple (UK: Penguin Classics, 2017), 76.

Architecture isn’t just about designing functional buildings and living spaces; as Christian architect Daniel Lee argues, architecture also serves “an artistic and civic role, expressing through metaphor and symbol the nature of the institutions contained within its walls.” Architecture, then, not only shapes and defines the physical landscape of communities, it also expresses and shapes what the designers and builders value most. Looking at contemporary church buildings, what do Christians value? What statements are we making to the watching world about the truth, beauty, and goodness of our glorious God and his beloved people?

In the Old Covenant, the architectural design of the Tabernacle (Exodus 25:9) and Temple (1 Kings 6:1-14) were rich in metaphor and symbolic significance because these physical spaces were central to worshipping God. What about architecture in the New Covenant? The word “church” rightly refers to the people not the building. Peter describes Christians as “living stones” that are being “built up as a spiritual house” (1 Peter 2:5). The Temple is no longer a place but a people. Nevertheless, across 2000 years of church history, congregations have invested considerable time and resources into building aesthetically pleasing and symbolically significant meeting places for worship, ministry, and fellowship. Various buildings and structures have served the saints: during the early church and the middle ages Christians met secretly in homes, businesses, caves, catacombs, and later they met publically in basilicas, and cathedrals; more recently in our own time, the faithful meet in steepled-structures, civic halls, open-air tents, barns, pubs, theatres, gymnasia, schools, cinemas, arenas, and multi-use facilities. Even though it matters more to be “living stones,” it’s clear that brick and mortar still matter. This is because human beings are creatures of space as well as mind and spirit. Our surrounding environments impact us spiritually and mentally as well as physically because they say something to us and about us. For example, when the Reformers moved the pulpit to the “front and centre” of the meeting halls, it sent a message that preaching the Word must be at the “front and centre” of worship. Acoustic designs and layout of sanctuaries also facilitated not only the sound of sermons but also congregational singing. Today, as many congregations focus on professional worship bands and high quality music, preachers often speak from a portable music stand surrounded by amps, drum kits, and propped guitars. This is not a criticism but a reminder that our physical spaces both express and shape what we value. Likewise, it should not be a surprise that our consumerist culture has produced church buildings that resemble shopping malls and community rec centres. It is also no surprise that a culture that disdains the past would leave older church buildings to deteriorate or be converted into condominiums, wedding venues, restaurants, or mere relics of the past. Sadly, to permit older church buildings to deteriorate or be repurposed may send the message that the “old gospel story” is as out-of-date as the half-empty and moldering buildings themselves. 

“I hate poetry!” English teachers hear this phrase every time they mention the “p” word. Poetry has become synonymous with words like “confusing” and “pointless,” or phrases like “out-of-date” and “hard-to-understand.” If this rings true with you, then let me change the subject for a minute…to twenty-first century Western culture.

We like our communication fast—texts; we like our food fast—McDonald’s; we like our cooking fast—microwaves. Our culture is filled with services and devices that provide ease and speedy convenience. As a result, we have come to expect everything to be fast, easy and just-a-click away. Our collective cultural “attention span” is becoming shorter by the second: when surfing the internet for example, the average viewer will spend fewer than 5 seconds on a webpage before clicking away. The problem with “fast, easy and convenient” is the accompanying lack of depth, vitality and longevity. Few of us cherish emails the way we might cherish a handwritten note or letter; few of us remember the last fast-food meal or celebrate the microwave meatloaf the way we remember and celebrate Grandma’s turkey dinner or homemade pie.

So what do emails, Big Macs and microwaves have to do with poetry? These icons of cultural convenience have very little to do with poetry, other than to serve as a stark contrast: poetry is anything but fast, easy or convenient. So why should Christians bother investing time and energy into understanding poetry? Because poetry helps us to slow down, ponder and understand the deep and profound realities of God’s universe. While our culture is chock-full of vapid, ephemeral experiences, God’s creation is full of inspiring, rich and eternal experiences. “Be still,” the psalmist writes, “and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). In our fast-paced, non-stop, 24/7 culture, reading poetry teaches us to slow down and “be still.” Poetry instills in us the habit of remembering and reflecting on who we are, who God is, and what life is all about.

Poetry is also a powerful way to express the wonder, depth and beauty of God’s world and to capture the essence of our human experience. Nowhere is this more evident than in the poetry of the Bible. The great poems of the Psalms have been the mainstay of many Christians through times of trial and joy; the depth and profundity of the Psalms are in part due to the medium of poetry. This is true with hymns as well; Christians cherish the poetry of hymns sung weekly during church meetings. But our enjoyment of poetry should not be limited to the psalms or to hymns. All great poets are great observers; they hold up a mirror to ourselves and to society, so they have much to teach us about life on earth. In a powerful way, they urge us to stop and reflect on our human experience, God’s universe and his goodness to us in a world mired in sin.

As we read a broad range of poetry, both secular and sacred, we will be challenged to look at ourselves and God’s world with fresh perspectives. Our ability to appreciate the Psalms and hymnody will also be enhanced by concerted attention to all kinds of poems. Most importantly, perhaps, we will learn to pause in our hectic lives in order to take in the beauty and wonder of God’s creation.[1]

[1] This essay is reprinted from Jeremy W. Johnston, All Things New: Essays on Christianity, culture & the arts (Kitchener: Joshua Press, 2018), 59 – 61. 

Medieval monks spent a lot of their time labouring and serving, often at lowly and humble chores. Based on the monks’ talents and aptitudes, they were assigned jobs like washing, food preparation, cleaning, farming, scribing, carpentry, masonry, tending to the sick, etc. We can learn from our medieval brothers how to manage our responsibilities and how to glorify God in the small tasks of day-to-day living. In Brother Lawrence’s book, The Practice of the Presence of God, the 17th-century monk encourages us both to glorify God and know his presence while doing the most menial of tasks like mopping the floor or peeling potatoes!
​
One of the ways monks made the most of their time was augmenting their daily chores with the honing and development of other valuable skills. Since the collapse of Roman civilization, monks preserved and mastered expertise in a variety of areas. For example, monks practiced reading and writing, singing, book-binding, brewing beers, wine-making, medicine and herbology, gardening, engineering, carpentry, teaching, and a host of other activities. Although many monastic orders left little time for leisure, some of the jobs assigned to monks might be considered hobbies by today’s standards.

So what do hobbies have to do with the Christian faith? Recently during an online Q&A session for 2020 Together For the Gospel conference, Al Mohler spoke about needing a “theology of leisure” and how Christians can “glorify God with our hobbies.” Mohler’s statements may have shocked some Christians, especially dyed-in-the-wool evangelicals. How can hobbies advance the Kingdom of God? Why waste time on hobbies when we should be evangelizing? We need to be careful about how we “redeem the time” God has given to us (Ephesians 5:16). The Bible reminds us often how fleeting our lives are (see, for example, Psalm 90:12; 144:4; James 4:13-17; 1 Peter 1:24). But evangelism is not our primary function as Christians: glorifying God is. The classic catechism question—what is the chief end of man—is answered with “to glorify God and to enjoy him forever.”[1] Part of glorifying God—making his greatness known—is telling others about Jesus and the Good News. During this time of COVID-19 lockdown, there are new and exciting ways to share the gospel and evangelize (see, for example, the TGC article “10 Simple Ways to Evangelize During a Pandemic”)[2] We also have more time with family, which means more opportunities to disciple your kids in Christ and lead your family in home worship.[3]

But we also have more time for hobbies.

​Activities like gardening, photography, poetry, playing an instrument, learning a second language, sewing, wood-working, painting, drawing, blogging, composing, and cooking (just to name a few). How can our hobbies glorify God?

To help answer that question, I turn to young David on the run from King Saul. I have often wondered what David did in the Cave of Adullam or in the wilderness. What did he do with the extra time he had while in forced “isolation” and “social distancing” as King Saul relentlessly hunted him? One thing is for sure: he wrote poems. We wouldn’t usually call the psalms of David a product of mere “hobby,” but that is what they were. The lyrics that appear in the Book of Psalms are uniquely inspired by the Holy Spirit, but the skill of writing poems is perhaps talent that David honed while passing the time as a shepherd to his father’s sheep. Like playing the harp, poetry was one of the ways David used his gifts. Often the Lord uses our gifts and abilities not only for our enjoyment but also as a means to bless and minister to others. For example, the guitar or piano hobbyist ends up accompanying worship music; the poet hobbyist becomes a hymn writer; the hobby baker ends up blessing others with hospitality; the dabbler in languages becomes a missionary or translator… These sorts of applications aren’t needed to justify hobbies, but who knows what the Lord will do with the gifts, talents, and skills honed while practicing a hobby? ​

Even in more focused ways, the Lord using our hobbies to teach us to be patient, or more loving, or humble, or sacrificial. He may use our hobbies to draw us closer to him, as Brother Lawrence writes: “God has many ways of drawing us to Himself.”[4]
Perhaps most importantly, using our gifts and abilities well glorifies the One who made you. You are not a cosmic fluke, but a carefully designed person made in the image of God. God created you with unique and individual gifts and abilities. He did not bless you with artistic skills, for example, to not use or hone that skill! Working at your hobbies is really about stewarding the gifts—and now time—that God has given to you.

The point is, don't underestimate hobbies. It’s an unbiblical view that “God’s business” is limited to evangelism, Sunday school, and sermons. As essential as these activities are, our God is much bigger than that. Devaluing seemingly “unspiritual work” often leads us to the wrong idea that there is a separation between “church life” and “everyday life.” In truth, there’s just life. We live every moment “coram Deo,” that is, before the face of God.

I recently heard this quotation from Charles Simeon, who writes that “there are but two lessons for Christians to learn: the one is, to enjoy God in everything; the other is, to enjoy everything in God.” Take some time, fellows monks, and develop an enjoyable skill and talent that has been collecting dust on the shelves of your minds and hearts. Whatever you do, do all for the glory of God.

“He is more than an unmoved mover. He is moved by compassion—by love—he wept!”

A Series of Blogs on Surviving and Thriving During Coronavirus Lockdown

Before Christ awakens our soul to a new life in him, we may be quite content with our lives. We feel as though we are kings of our circumstances, and we believe that we are free to live and do as we please. In truth, we are bound by the world, our flesh, and the evil one. Although we “rule” a space no bigger than a nutshell, we count ourselves a “king of infinite space.” This line (and the title of this sonnet) comes from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, where Hamlet states that, like us, he would be content to be king of a trouble-free kingdom, even if it’s as small as a nutshell.

Yet, thankfully, Christ doesn’t leave us to our false comforts and our delusions of kingship… he unravels a person’s life, shatters our crowns, and breaks our scepters. In her book, The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert, Rosaria Butterfield calls her conversion to Christianity a “train-wreck”[1] as she describes how Christ dramatically upended her life, her career, and her relationships. The metaphor is apt—Christ literally breaks into our lives, shattering our old ways of doing things and our old ways of thinking about things. Although an incalculable blessing, being “born again” is as dramatic as physical birth. When we encounter God, we meet the true King of Infinite Space. This poem is meant to capture this conversion experience.

[1] Rosaria Butterfield, The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert (Pittsburgh: Crown & Covenant, 2012), 25.

I travelled to Great Britain a few years ago with my wife. On our first day exploring the sprawling city of London, we came upon St. Paul’s Cathedral. The early 18th century cathedral is an architectural masterpiece designed by Christopher Wren; however, what we found when we went inside was no mere monument to a man’s creative and engineering genius. We found a place to worship God. I wrote this poem describing our experience attending an evensong service at St. Paul’s.
 
​

​Evensong at St. Paul’s
Jeremy W. Johnston
 
I.
 
In a city of beautiful buildings, here is another,
yet unlike any other: St. Paul’s.
We walk, we gaze, we wonder
is there time?--
The evening is here. Day is closing for the day.
 
But then a sign
 
calls us—a literal sign—invites us to
Evensong.
 
We climb up stone steps, enter in.
Even the small doors seem massive doors,
weighty tomes hanging on brass hinges
that shut out distractions, shut in the distracted.
The walking and talking and busyness and bustle all
become strangely dim. Silence becomes our song.
We are submerged into the stunning stillness.
So much larger on the inside.
 
Look up, can’t help but look up—in life we need to look up more.
A twilight, sky-like ceiling and world-like walls, so vast yet still too small.
Even here is too finite for the infinite to
dwell.
This man-made place for the maker of man:
the best we can do—this! is barely a droplet of dew.
 
Outside, we’re wanderers in this city, tourists in town, set apart, outsiders.
We’re aliens in—but not of—this urban place.
But in here, inside,
We’re now in and a part of this sacred space.
 
II.
 
The ancientness. The art. The Faith. I belong here.
Still I feel painfully exposed and alone.
 
It’s humbling to be so small for this brief hour.
God seems so distant here because he is echoed everywhere.
Indeed, we are separated by an infinite divide
 
but we begin to chant, and recite, and sing, and hear of the One
who fills the boundless chasm, who spans the ever-expanding space.
Holy words for Holy God; carefully prepared words,
some ancient, some old, some uttered soft, some spoken bold.
Haunting voices rising up to darkness and mystery--
my ears, my neck, my mind, my skin—I feel the sound of truth
surrounding
immersing me, gently washing over me like the very breath of God.
Words so right and real; this place, so here and now.
 
God’s beauty is seen, the goodness of the Good News is heard--
every note, every utterance, every square inch alludes
to his wonder, his transcendence, his descent, his ascent, his nearness,
his farness.
 
This is Evensong. This evening service of prayers, Psalms, and singing
a symbol of unity, harmony
a paradox of the near farness of God.
 
III.

Liturgy, ritual, words recited, words sung--
 
We’re reminded that this is a religion as well as a relationship.
            He is Creator, we are created. We are together, we are alone.
This is not yet heaven, though it is heaven that this hour harkens us to see.
 
So, despite the wonder, so much to look at, too much to take in,
I still find myself on this earth. My feet still feel the floor.
My body is still a body, pulled down by gravity of the world
and worldliness.
So the tide begins to rise, the tide of blood, muscle, and bone rises
over my mind, my soul.
My weary traveller’s bones—the night of flying, the day of walking,
the hunger for seeing, the desire for doing, and the peace
of this place--
overtake me. My lids slip down beneath the surface,
over my eyes,
like the not-so-watchful three in the Garden of Gethsemane.
 
This edifice, this service, my effort to worship
One who exceeds imagination.
 
We’re always reaching up, but you, O God,
must always lift us up.
 
And you do.
 
 ©2020