"There's a story of a small village (about the size of the village near Crosswicks) where lived an old clockmaker and repairer. When anything was wrong with any of the clocks or watches in the village, he was able to fix them, to get them working properly again. When he died, leaving no children and no apprentice, there was no one left in the village who could fix clocks. Soon various clocks and watches began to break down. Those which continued to run often lost or gained time, so they were of little use. A clock might strike midnight at three in the afternoon. So many of the villagers abandoned their time-pieces.
"One day a renowned clock-maker and repairer came through the village, and the people crowded around him and begged him to fix their broken clocks and watches. He spent many hours looking at all the faulty time pieces, and at last he announced that he could repair only those whose owners had kept them wound, because they were the only ones which would be able to remember how to keep time.
"So we must daily keep things wound: that is, we must pray when prayer seems dry as dust; we must write when we are physically tired, when our hearts are heavy, when our bodies are in pain.
"We may not always be able to make our 'clock' run correctly, but at least we can keep it wound, so that it will not forget."
And that, dear reader, is another reason why I am writing again. I may not have much to say that is worth reading, but I can share in order to encourage you and myself. Because right now for me prayer is almost as dry as dust, and maybe it's the same way for you. But that is exactly why we must keep doing it. We must keep our clocks wound, our spirits in fighting trim, our hearts inclined to the One who sees all and knows all. Sooner or later the dust will moisten into malleable clay, or settle into fertile garden soil, or turn into vigorous seedlings. Our only job is to trust and keep on keeping on.
In conjunction to that, the previous passage by Madeleine L'Engle was soon followed by another:
"Perhaps one of the saddest things we can do is waste time, as Shakespeare knew when he had Richard the Second cry out, 'I have wasted time, and now doth time waste me.'
"But being time is never wasted time . . . Canon Tallis says that his secretary does not understand that when he is thinking, he is working: she thinks he is wasting time. But thinking time is not wasted time. There are some obvious time-wasters, such as licentious living, drunkenness, adultery, all the things Paul warns us about. A more subtle time waster is being bored. Jesus was never bored. If we allow our "high creativity" to remain alive, we will never be bored. We can pray, standing in line at the super market. Or we can be lost in awe at all the people around us, their lives full of glory and tragedy, and suddenly we will have the beginnings of a painting, a story, a song."
What do I get from this? Not only was our Savior never bored, but we shouldn't be either! When all else fails, we can pray. This sounds very high and mighty of me. I am by no means a good example of this. In fact, I rarely struggle with boredom at all and it is far more challenging for me to turn my busy thoughts to the Savior who is "Closer than the tiny thoughts I have of You" (line from the song "Small" sung by J.J. Heller) than it might be for some people. I am, however, learning to think of prayer differently, and maybe you can learn with me.
If you look closely at my profile picture/drawing, you'll see two figures at the top of a hill holding hands while looking off into a sunset. This is not intended to be a common romantic pose. It's God and me, walking and talking and enjoying life together. I have so much to learn!
But I guess that's the joy of learning.
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