​God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,
A deep part of what it means to be human is to live with limits. I cannot fly. You cannot change your height. You cannot change the direction of the wind. This prayer is not a self-help way to talk ourselves into trying harder or being better; it asks God to give the gift of being able to live with what is beyond our control. It is thus a prayer that starts with humility, as all praying must.

the courage to change the things I can,
Sometimes it is hard to believe we can make a difference for good in this world. By God’s grace we can. Love and work require courage — doing the right thing, the loving thing, the unselfish thing — so ask!

and the wisdom to know the difference.
Frustrated? You may be trying to change things or people that cannot be changed. Unhappy? You might be wrongly assuming that there is nothing you can do about your situation.  If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. (James 1:5)

So talk to God, and then take another look at your day.

At Christchurch this summer we’re trying out various spiritual disciplines (sometimes called spiritual practices) to see which of them God will use to transform our character. The goal of any discipline is not to become excellent in the discipline, but to become excellent in something higher and deeper. You practice your golf swing merely to give you a better looking swing, but to make you a better golfer. Practicing the scales is a means by which you can become a better musician. And better music makes the world a better place. 

This week’s practice is a particular kind of praying — a simple prayer to be prayed again and again. Many people are familiar with “The Serenity Prayer” in its short form. I heartily recommend the longer form found below.  

The purpose of prayer is to connect us to God, to open a two-way channel for him to bless, guide, and correct as he sees fit. The Serenity Prayer is not an end in itself, but a means to a more effective life of loving God and neighbor.  

Pray it morning and night for the rest of the week. Let it begin to shape how you see your world: a place of limits and opportunities which require much wisdom, wisdom which God so freely grants to those who seek him. ​

God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time;
accepting hardship as a pathway to peace;
taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it;
trusting that You will make all things right if I surrender to Your will;
so that I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with You forever in the next.
Amen.

The problem with prayer is that it is too easy. And too hard.

Too easy: 
God is great. God is good. 
Let us thank him for our food. 
By his hands we all are fed. 
Give us, Lord, our daily bread.

Too easy because any adult can say it and have his mind wander to think only of his childhood when he learned the prayer, or the plate in front of him getting cold. Is this prayer?

Too hard: 
Almighty Father, who hast given thine only Son to die for our 
sins and to rise again for our justification: Grant us so to put 
away the leaven of malice and wickedness, that we may always
serve thee in pureness of living and truth; through the same
thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with 
thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
— Book of Common Prayer, Friday in Easter Week

Too hard because “hast” and “thine” don’t roll off the tongue, and who uses the word “leaven”? And we hardly ever think of malice or justification except to justify our own malice. “She was hateful to me. I thought you ought to know.” This prayer is too hard for most of us because the language is not contemporary, but even more so because the compactness of its thought is more work than we expect to have to do when we pray.

But the hardest thing about praying may be the waiting. We pray. We wait. We pray. We wait.
They all joined together constantly in prayer, along with the women and Mary the mother of Jesus, and with his brothers. (Acts 1:14)

Jesus had told his disciples to stay in Jerusalem and wait for the gift promised from the Father. Jesus ascended and disappeared from their sight, so they gathered and began to pray. We know what they did not: that they would be gathered, praying for 10 days. 

Is 10 days a long time? What were you doing 10 days ago? Where will you be in 10 days?

What if the gift that came after 10 days made the waiting seem like nothing at all? What if the answer to your praying made the work of praying inconsequential?

Do you need the answer before you begin praying?
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