"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you."
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
“Think often on God, by day, by night, in your business and even in your diversions. He is always near you and with you; leave him not alone.”
Brother Lawrence
Many of you (if not all of you) know that I have started a new job as a barista. As of a little over two weeks ago, I have spent upwards of 30+ hours a week making coffee. I have learned the art of the latte (and believe me... it really is an art!) and I've learned the simple beauty of serving someone a cup of black brewed coffee. I've run the gamut on the intricacies of coffee making - from the complexity of making a macchiato or pouring a design on the top of a latte, to the simplicity of grinding beans or brewing a Turkish coffee.
You may be wondering at this point, what does being a barista have to do with stories and aspects of prayer? All the other posts in this series have been about times in monasteries or in church services. How could a coffee shop even hold a candle to those places of prayer?
You may not realize it at first glance, perhaps not even your second glance, but that little coffee shop is a sanctuary. I don't mean "sanctuary" in the sense that it is a "safe place." (I've burned my fingers more than once within those walls!) I mean "sanctuary" in the sense of "a place of worship".
How can this be? Those big windows with the bar stools in front aren't stained glass. Those trendy white metal chairs aren't pews. The soft jazz music playing in the background isn't chant or good ol' Southern Baptist gospel hymns or even "that new-fangled contemporary stuff". There is no plate passed to gather gifts and offerings, though the exchange of money is common. There are none of the many aspects of religious pomp that go into the making of a sanctuary. And yet, I'll go to my grave affirming that this coffee shop is just that... a sanctuary.
I've come to realize that the making of a sanctuary has little to do with the surface-level identifiers. What makes a sanctuary is not the glitz and glamour of the service or the architecture. What makes a sanctuary is the recognition of the presence of God. I have been in ornate churches devoid of the meaning of "sanctuary" and I have been in dorm room floors which were rich in their sanctified roots. This coffee shop falls in line with the latter.
The Bible tells us to pray without ceasing. I've always found this to be a difficult task. Prayer, for much of my life, was something to actively do. It was something confined to literal sanctuaries because of that. I believed I had to actively be thinking about God, actively be talking to God, actively be present with God. And so it was difficult for me to pray in this manner outside of the focused time in church. It was seemingly impossible for me to follow the command of Scripture and pray without ceasing. I would have to spend my days locked away from the distractions and busyness of life if I were to try to live out that command.
But in the walls of this little coffee shop, I'm learning a different way to pray. I'm learning, in this new kind of sanctuary, that prayer can happen in more ways than I ever thought possible.
I first encountered Brother Lawrence in undergrad studies. And I learned then of his inclination that prayer can, indeed, be done without ceasing. I was inspired to try afresh this concept of continual prayer. I adopted "breath prayers" and one-word-prayers to try to bring my consciousness back to God and pray at all times. I soon after that began working in a church, and my mind, ironically enough, drew away from active contemplation on God and moved toward crunching numbers and meeting deadlines. Every now and again I would look down at my prayer ring on my finger and would try to bring my consciousness back around to God again, but my mind would soon enough drift back to the task at hand which was seemingly more important for my attention to be focused on.
In my four years at the church I began to fool myself about my prayer life. I began to believe that because I was in a literal sanctuary, I was immersed in a religious atmosphere and therefore even when I wasn't actively thinking about, talking to, or being present with God I was still being a "good" (or at least "good enough") Christian. My prayer life began to slowly evaporate like the morning dew.
It honestly wasn't until starting work as a barista a mere two weeks ago that I realized just what kind of shape my prayer life had come to be in. In the hustle of morning rushes of people craving their caffeine fix, I've developed a new habit of prayer - one more in line with what Brother Lawrence was really talking about when he wrote on praying continuously.
I always believed prayer to be, as I've said, something I had to actively do. Prayer required me to be an active participant and God was merely a recipient of my onslaught of petitions. Eventually my words would run out and I would cease to pray.
Remembering Brother Lawrence has helped me see that prayer is something meant for words only some of the time. My work as a barista has become an act of prayer where I had before believed that I needed constant words of prayer. Brother Lawrence knew that praying continuously can't be done the way I was trying to pray. We cannot actively have our minds always before the throne of God while we must actively live this earthly life.
Instead of speaking our prayers, perhaps the way to pray continuously is to live our prayers. What do I mean by this? I'm growing to realize that when I serve a customer, when I brew a fresh pot of coffee, when I steam a pitcher of milk, if I do it with love for God and love for the person beside me and in front of me, then I do the action with a heart oriented toward simple recognition.
I perform any number of actions with a recognition of the presence of God. I recognize the presence of God in the busyness of a morning rush. I recognize the presence of God in the group of old ladies gathered to catch up. I recognize the presence of God in the cop that comes almost every day wanting his "large light and sweet" coffee. I recognize the presence of God in the difficult order from the rude customer who needs my patient smile more than most. I recognize the presence of God in the steady hands of Mo, who makes some of the most beautiful latte art I've ever seen. I recognize the presence of God in the humor of my coworkers, who help me see that even my mistakes shouldn't be taken too seriously. I recognize the presence of God in the hurried precision of my boss who works hard to call me on to being the best barista I can be.
This recognition of the presence of God in my midst means that I am oriented toward God even when I'm not actively talking to God. And so, as I steam and pour and brew, I pray. My heart and mind and soul are oriented toward God. So even the most mundane task, if it is done out of love, it is an act of prayer.
God is present with us, even in the small daily acts of drudgery and even in the busyness and hectic nature of our lives. God is present, and if we will open our eyes to see that Divine Presence, we may also see the potential of continual prayer.