Does King’s College Chapel’s ceiling remind you of winter treetops on an unbending back road?
Around here, where winter is long and tree-vaulted roads are common, I am reminded of cathedrals often. Lately, when I think of cathedrals I think of George Butrrick’s advice of prayer (1942). So every time I turn down a winter back road, naturally I feel an urge to pray… and drive slowly and turn off the radio.
Buttrick makes a beautiful analogy that I will never forget. He likens entering prayer to entering a cathedral. Do you ever rush through a cathedral door chatty and clamoring? No. You probably enter quiet and reverent. After gazing at old stories in stained glass do you recall your doubts? Probably not.
Buttrick recommends entering prayer not rambling off requests or recounting our fears, but in silent self-preparation… taking counsel with our certitudes.
When the house is quiet, I like to settle in and close my eyes. I visualize double iron doors opening to reveal a glorious room upheld by strong buttresses and lit by color-stained sunbeams, 
its windows adorned with depictions of familiar Bible stories that recall the things I call certain.
He was born- He is humble.
He healed sick- He is compassionate.
He taught- He is wise.
He calmed storms- He is mighty.
He chose the cross- He is gracious.
He rose from death- He is victorious.
God’s arm is not too short. He is able. I enter prayer quiet and confident then I listen and wait.
Buttrick prefaces prayer with his certitudes to fend off any fear and doubt and thanklessness that keeps him from praying in fullness of faith. Like picture-stories on old cathedral walls, I have recorded my own list of certitudes. I wrote down my memories of God’s over and again provision for me, my answered prayers, my fears calmed and victories given. I can review them whenever I feel less certain like the Hebrews remembered theirs in Isaiah 63:11-14.
Note, I do not always enter prayer quite so quietly. In fact, sometimes I burst into God’s presence with dishes clanging, Pandora radio blaring, children squealing. I just scrub and sing and pray and interrupt my prayer to give somebody a cup of milk. And I have no doubt that God is happy with those prayers. Still, the still prayers are special and important. In the quiet of the morning, when I can hear myself breathe, in the peaceful back road in January where I hear the wind, I can refocus assured.
Buttrick beautifully calls our relationship with God, “friendship held in reverence.” Prayer is a conversation with a friend, but let’s not forget our friend is the king. Don’t avoid the noisy hat drop prayers for the sake of solemn reverence, but do take time to silently prepare for devoted prayer too.
Buttrick writes,We say to ourselves, ‘His light fills this world. It fills this room.’ Thus we meditate. Sunbeams cross roads through winter branches like stained beams cross cathedral isles like His light floods my sight when I adore Him.
More like summer than winter is the ceiling of vibrant Ely Cathedral down the road from serene King’s Chapel. Maybe in May drives in the sunshine will remind me of prayer once again.
In 2007, while studying abroad in Cambridge, England, I climbed Ely Cathedral’s tower ad walked on the roof. Talk about cathedrals building confidence! I also made a stained glass panel in the workshop of a rising sun, which still decorates my bookshelf.
I LOVE this post on the cathedrals and praying!! It’s beautiful. The pictures are great too. I especially like the one of my precious little grandson. 🙂