Pray Without Ceasing

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.
- 2 Corinthians 4:7

For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you. 
- Romans 12:3

Every moment can be a prayer. Sounds daunting? Rethink your idea of prayer. When you have a chronic illness - in my case severe episodic depression - every action towards healing becomes a prayer...

• Lying down in bed when you can't get out of it and not beating yourself up for it.
• Getting out of it when you feel the first glimmer that you could. 
• Washing your hair and putting on clothes to keep a promise to your son that you would go to your family group tonight. 
• Leaning on your husband while you cry a little bit in the kitchen. 
• Texting friends for SOS prayer when you slip off the edge of hope. 
• Cuddling with your daughter when she comes to check on you in the bed you can't get out of. 
• Having just enough to go with your family and be loving and present to other people. 
• Saying no to outside opportunities - even goods ones - so that you have enough emotional energy to be faithful in the little things: doing the dishes, making the dinner, picking up the kids.  
• Saying yes to opportunities - when you can - believing that God will give to you as you give to others.

Most of you may think this is just life, but for someone like me, life is an effort. And in the strange economy of Grace, this is a gift because I know that I cannot do life on my own strength. The five different medications I take every morning remind me that I am dependent on help from outside my body. Literally, I cannot generate within myself the strength to get up every morning. Therein is the gift: in my sickness, I know a Truth that can be hard to grasp for those who are relatively well. Each of us lacks this essential ability to live life on our own strength. Our strength will invariably fail - just some people like me give out sooner than others.

Saying the words, "O Lord, help me" or "Have mercy on me" with an expectation that God will soon take away our need of ever having to say those words again is not prayer. It is lip service to the idea of prayer. Prayer is living those words, needing those words every hour - not being free of the need to repeat them. That need for help, for mercy, for God's presence becomes the prayer.

The getting up, the lying down, the dishes washed, the kids picked up - all these are prayers offered up. Prayer lived out in small, wobbly steps on good days and dark days. Prayer lived in absolute dependence on a Greater Strength to carry us, to make up for what we lack, to transform what little we have into abundance. Prayer is always before us.

Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God - have mercy on me.
(The "Jesus Prayer" from the Eastern Orthodox tradition.)