Night Prayer

As I looked at the words of the night prayer this evening, I began to remember how as a child, and then later in my adolescence, I placed great importance on saying a prayer of some kind before falling asleep. It wasn't so much for myself that I prayed, but for my loved ones and for the important things in life…

Looking back on it now it seems somewhat unusual, or even a little strange to me, that as a child I longed specifically for a relationship with God. I wonder how many of us as adults now can recall an early awakening of this sort. My suspicion is that it is a quite common experience. Some recent conversations have brought the question freshly to mind.

It is the time of year when I have the opportunity to do Confirmation interviews, and one of the questions on my pre-prepared format that our religious education department has supplied me with asks simply "Do you pray?" Typically the answer is affirmative and then I go on to ask "When do you pray?" It seems that the answer is almost always "I pray before I go to sleep."

I haven't really thought to ask what kinds of things the young people whom I interview pray for. After all, asking a teenager about prayer is treading on that which is often ultimately personal. However, I think—on a very deep level—that we all tend to pray for the same kinds of things. That is, we pray in regard to what bears the most importance in our lives.

After interviewing a few candidates for Confirmation this year I thought about how my prayer life changed as I matured. I thought about how my childlike need for a final word with God at the end of the day has been replaced by a need first thing in the morning for an assurance of blessing. My childhood nighttime prayer for my family has been replaced by a morning prayer for the safety for my wife and children, and for my work and for those whom I serve.

Still, the childhood and youthful prayers that stand out most clearly in my memories were those in which I sought simply to find a relationship with God. I felt mysteriously awed by my dreams, and I felt also that God could and would speak to me in the world of my sleep.

A good place to return often, it seems, is to where we start out. Sure, God wants us to pray throughout the day, not just morning and not just evening either. Certainly we can consecrate our time with simply the momentary directing of our hearts to the Almighty, but there's something special about that final evening moment when we take what is most important to God—when we turn things over to the Lord entirely. It's really no wonder that sleep is such a strong metaphor for death, for in it we let go and place our trust in God.

Interestingly, what is most important to me now—in terms of the content of prayer—isn't all that different from what I remember praying about as a little child. I am still seeking an encounter with God, and on some deep level of shared experience I think we all want and need the same kinds of things. The night represents the end, and in the end we all want and need the security that ultimately is in God's hands alone.

Undoubtedly, we all want the assurance that God will keep us safe, both this night and tomorrow, and that he will rescue us in the time of need, as the night finally draws near. Indeed we all want to sleep in the shade of the Most High—tonight and forever.

Comments

[JustMe]

I know I used to pray as a child before bed, but also when staying with my grandmother-- my cousin and I would kneel beside her rocker in the kitchen in the morning sun coming through and around the bottles of colored water, so Mere Mere could "hear" our prayers and Morning Offertory..she sat there with her eyes closed, and hands folded in prayer, and truly "heard" them. :-) But I don't recall praying for anything for anyone in particular-- tho' I must have.

I do recall, tho', as if it were yesterday, one night when I was 15 or so. As I laid there trying to sleep, I felt an inexplicable urge to turn over and seek what was attracting my attention. It faded out to darkness just as I was looking at it, but in my bureau mirror, there was a soft, golden, beautiful altar--almost breathing, and lit by something other than candlelight, tho' it was warm like that. How intricate and beautiful it was, and you've reminded me of it..thank you.

"It's really no wonder that sleep is such a strong metaphor for death, for in it we let go and place our trust in God." You've just described "dormition," haven't you? I love it. Thanks for that thought, too.

God bless you.

[ebh]

With all due respect, I believe you failed to remark on the vast importance of the Examination of Conscience at night time.

[Deacon DW]

ebh-Indeed examination of the conscience is an important part of the Compline hour. At this time, especially in communal celebration, one of the liturgical penitential acts is appropriate, for example the formula I confess to Almighty God and to you my brothers and sisters... will do nicely here.

I believe that when we "turn things over to the Lord entirely", as I stated above, it includes a good examination of conscience. When we "let go and place our trust in God" we give him our all--our successes and our failures, and we simply trust and we relish the peace that can come only in a childlike faith that our Lord watches over us.

[JustMe]

Ah, I forgot we were talking about formal prayer of the Church. Heck, if I start examen-ing my conscience at night, I'll never get any sleep! I timed it once: I sin every 3 minutes. Or so. Who wants to hear a litany of my sins? I know whose culpa it is, and how it happened, and why it must be avoided..but I also know the Remedy Who very truly wants to be my Remedy. I want that, too. I will look with boht hope and trust toward that.