Rev. Durham Harris
Staff Chaplain at Memorial Health System, Gulfport, MS
Fair warning: I have no pithy, wise words to impart. I’m just some dude in south Mississippi you’ve likely never met. So, if you take the following with a grain of salt, I promise I won’t be offended.
Hi, my name is Durham and I work as a CBF-endorsed hospital chaplain. Greta van Fleet, Bela Fleck, and BENEE are my most-listened to artists on Spotify right now. I love all things outdoors; if I haven’t tried it, it’s on my list. Gordon Ramsey cooking shows are one of my favorite pastimes, because who doesn’t like absolute garbage TV every now and then? (My wife, Tiffany, likes TLC’s 90 Day Fiancé…it’s growing on me.)
However, here’s what’s most pertinent about me for our discussion… …You won’t find me sitting in a sanctuary pew most Sunday mornings. Life is complicated. So, too, is my relationship with God. Prayer??? Yikes.
One of the nurses at my hospital will occasionally ask, “Chaplain, how’s the good Lord doing this morning?” I typically jest with a lighthearted response, “I don’t know, I ain’t talked with ‘em yet.”
Such is not too far from the truth, though. I’m sure that’s the case for plenty of other folks, too. There’s a reason #deconstruction and #exvangelical are trending on hugely popular media platforms like TikTok. Some might argue that this is a byproduct of Protestantism’s exceedingly poor catechesis. I can’t object entirely. Then again, I’m unconvinced our ‘’spiritual but not religious” generation yearns for that kind of dogmatic instruction. I also don’t think it’s prudent to craft grand, sweeping narratives explaining others’ exodus from church, anyway. Leave that to the next generation of historians.
I kinda’ get it, though. Why pray to the God of a people group so sure of themselves yet so…fallible, prone to error? You gotta’ admit we’re a prickly, unwelcoming, opinionated bunch sometimes. A lot of the time. Okay, most of the time. All of the time? *sigh*
Church goer or not, we all maintain what Fredrich Schleiermacher called, “a sense and taste for the Infinite,” reaching for values and assurance in something, anything beyond ourselves. If not within church walls, where and through what means can we satiate this desire?
I still think the answer has something to do with prayer; but maybe we could shift our focus a bit, beseeching the mystics to show us a different way.
Prayer, in my view, is not mere supplication by God’s people for thy will to be done this way or that. It is predominantly a meditative action in the midst of chaos. The prayerful life is about mindfulness in the meantime. Whatever you’ve got on your plate that feels completely and utterly overwhelming…Observe. Notice. Trust. Accept everything that unfolds, good or bad, just as it is and with deep compassion.
What does that actually look like, though, in day-to-day living?
Well, I’ll be vulnerable and share what it looks like for me: waiting for Lexapro to kick in and, in the meantime, nurturing the bruised and tender bits with gentle, kind affection.
One final thought…
Parts of south Mississippi are often referred to as the Pine Belt, given the vegetation and its historic lumber industry. I’ve walked a few different trails through the pine trees meditating, practicing mindfulness and praying. One particular stretch of path regularly undergoes controlled burns. Though the area is seemingly barren and destroyed, jaybirds will peck through the ash for twigs to build a nest. It’s fascinating to observe. Why make their home in the aftermath of ruin? They are mindful of what hides within the dark, rich soil.
New life.
Pray. . .Give. . .Go.