Living the Difference Between Power and Agency

September 9th, 2025 | Click to Comment

Over the past few weeks my Mystics Reading Group has been discussing Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection’s Practice of the Presence. Brought to new life by Carmen Acevedo Butcher’s recent translation, Brother Lawrence has become my teacher.

Brother Lawrence lived in 17th century France. He took monastic vows after serving as a soldier in Europe’s horrific Thirty Years War, in which he suffered emotional trauma along with a leg wound that never healed.

Life had shown him how little control he had over his circumstances. His duties in the monastery were hard work and he learned to rely on God’s help to get through the day. As 12-step spirituality teaches today, Brother Lawrence recognized that he was powerless to make his life ok.

Neither did he have to power to change the harsh political and economic realities of his time. He had seen human beings’ capacity for violence and cruelty; new instances of injustice did not shock him. Rather, he was surprised that the state of the world wasn’t worse. He prayed for the perpetrators and left the task of changing them to God.

What a counter-cultural approach! Embracing powerlessness is anathema in our culture. Experience argues that if the good guys don’t try to wield some kind of power then the bad guys win; if we want to make a difference we have to be in the arena; we have a responsibility to engage in the struggle. And if we don’t have the power to actually change things, we can at least harness our anger and name what needs to be changed.

If we believe this, then what good does it do to simply live a more peaceful, joyful, and loving life? How does an individual’s state of mind, or state of grace, make any difference to the pressing questions of the day? How does one simple monk far from the rooms where power is negotiated, or the fields where power is taken by force, affect anything?

Yet almost 400 years later, it is Brother Lawrence’s words we’re reading. The wars and the fortunes of his time came to an end, but his teachings remain. His example of not resisting the things imposed on him, while trusting that Love would sustain him through it, is like the discovery of a rejuvenating spring of water available for us to drink.

In the midst of hardship, he found a Source of divine love unfailingly accessible within his own being. And as he practiced remembering and reconnecting with this Presence throughout the day, he found himself bolstered by a flow of love and power beyond anything of his making. Life became joyful, filled with meaning, beauty, and love.

As Brother Lawrence became grounded in Love, he made peace with all that he could not control. His circumstances no longer had power over him. Yet he was anything but passive. His practice of Presence set him free to act from a place of greater wisdom. When he stopped trying to control or resist what he was powerless to change, he unleashed the transformational nature of his own agency.

We generally don’t want to consider how little power we have, whether it’s over our personal lives or over the national and global realities reported in the news. We torment ourselves over how to play a part in the power struggles of our time. All the while, our engagement with issues of power distracts us from recognizing our unlimited agency.

We can decide where our attention and energy will go. We can seek the highest use of the unlimited agency that we do have, and discern the most life-giving use of our limited ability to act. And in making these choices we can be guided by the inner light that is our inheritance.

I’m not strong enough, smart enough, well-connected or well-informed enough, to know how to fix what’s wrong with the world. But if I’m open to it, I’m shown the next thing I need to know and the next thing I need to do. It shows up as something new, something I didn’t think up, something I didn’t know before.

I want to live out of this balance of humility and responsibility, seeing clearly the scope and limits of my power, along with the best use of my agency. I want to let go of wasting my energy on what I cannot change, while being open to guidance about what is mine to do.

May we all apply what Brother Lawrence teaches about the Practice of the Presence. May we bring light into our place in the world, with the courage to receive what Wisdom shows us, and the strength to act upon it.

Susan Christerson Brown

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Prayer for the Poll Workers

November 3rd, 2020 | Click to Comment

This morning they rose in the dark,

packed a lunch,

poured coffee in a thermal cup,

heading out for a long day at the polls.

Lord, be with them in their steady work.

Grant them patience and humor for every interaction,

and strength to meet each individual need.

Protect them from harm of any kind.

Help them hold the sacred space

that gathers us in, despite our divisions.

May they stand like the burr oak,

grounded by a deep taproot

in the dignity of their duties,

extending courage and peace

with the shelter of their branches.

May the way they tend this day

embody our ancestors’ sacrifice,

and may they be for all of us a light.

Lord, guard and guide them

as they lead us through this day,

guarding the democracy preserved for us.

Amen.

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Changing the Conversation

October 20th, 2018 | 2 Comments

Given the state of our society at this moment, we all need a time out—a chance to get quiet and restore our battered psyches. At this point in our collective history, our minds are working against us. We cannot think our way out of this mess.

 

 

We need to reconnect with goodness and wisdom individually if we’re to access the strength for healing our communities. Taking a walk in the woods, or listening to music, or creating something beautiful can help us gain perspective on what passes for today’s civil discourse.

The more we continue with our attention anchored in the politics and polarities of our time, the more we’re awash in a sea of animosity. We need a higher wisdom, a North Star shining in the darkness that helps us navigate these turbulent days.

That clear sense of direction and guidance is available to each of us when we listen to the still, small voice within. There are many ways to stay attuned to wisdom and to keep its light in front of us. If you have a way that works for you, I’d love to hear about it.

One simple and effective daily practice I’ve found to help orient towards what is good and true is called “Metta” or Loving-Kindness Meditation.

I first learned this practice years ago and recently experienced its power again over several days in an Enneagram learning community. There are four lines to the meditation, or prayer, repeated with different people in mind.

Sit quietly and begin by saying it for yourself:

May I be happy.

May I be healthy.

May I be safe.

May I be peaceful and at ease.

Then picture someone you love and say it for them:

May you be happy.

May you be healthy.

May you be safe.

May you be peaceful and at ease.

Then say it for a teacher or someone else who has benefited you.

Then for someone neutral, about whom you have no strong feelings either positive or negative.

Then for someone in your life who is difficult in some way or who brings up tension.

Finally, say the meditation for all beings, a prayer for all the world:

May all beings be happy.

May all beings be healthy.

May all beings be safe.

May all beings be peaceful and at ease.

Don’t take my word for it—repeat this daily meditation every day for a week and see what it offers you. Notice how it colors your experience, and consider how the state of being it invites ripples out into the world. I’d love to hear how it goes.

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Ritual for Blessing a House

August 29th, 2018 | Click to Comment

My new house feels even more fully like home since a group of friends came over for a ritual cleansing and house blessing. I hadn’t known how to do a blessing for a home, but after some research on rituals for blessing a house and the practice of burning sage, or smudging, to purify a space, I designed the ritual we performed. Episcopal liturgy found in The Book of Occasional Services was helpful, as was the New Zealand prayer book.

Some parts of the ritual I wrote myself. I found no blessing of a basement, for example, and I know from Jungian thought and my own dreams the importance of a basement and all it symbolizes.

To begin, I lit a candle and filled a bowl with water. We each held the bowl in turn, offering a blessing for the house and the life lived within it, and touching the water with our fingertips. The water was set apart, made holy, in this way. One friend read “Blessing for a New House” by John O’Donohue, from his wonderful book, To Bless the Space Between Us. Another lit the bundle of sage, a tendril of smoke rising as she carried it into every corner of the house, the purifying smoke curling into every drawer, every cabinet, into the fireplace, closets, and cushions, all through the house. Yet another friend followed with the bowl of lustral water and used a sprig of greenery from a shrub out front to sprinkle it into every corner, bringing all the love and blessing held in that water to fill the purified spaces.

From the basement to the attic and circling the outside of the house, we read blessings for each space and supported those tending the sage and the water, all in a spirit of friendship and conversation and laughter. In this act of community we enacted a powerful ritual of purification—banishing any unclean spirits, cleansing any negative energy, dispelling any darkness lingering from the past. I’m grateful for this circle of friends who meet monthly in group spiritual direction, and I felt our circle become stronger through performing this ritual. Enacting it together made this ceremony of blessing deeply meaningful.

In a time when so many beliefs no longer serve us, and when so many structures that were supposed to preserve meaning and value have failed us, ritual itself holds meaning. A ritual is an outward, ceremonial act that expresses an inner, spiritual reality. The actions themselves connect us to what is true, to what endures, to the ways we are held by something larger than ourselves. We can trust a solid ritual, because it connects us to what we recognize as true at a level deeper than words.

A home doesn’t have to be new to benefit from a ritual cleansing and blessing. Clearing out clutter, creating space for new activities or new projects, undertaking new efforts within your space, are all occasions that might invite a ritual of cleansing and blessing. Perhaps this deep need is part of the continual interest in redecorating and refreshing our spaces.

If you try your own version of a blessing for a home, let me know how it goes! A New Zealand Prayer Book’s “Blessing of a Home” is here. Here’s a link to both the old and new Book of Occasional Services, shown side-by-side. The “Celebration of a Home” is on page 166 in the new book and page 146 in the old.  And if you can use some ideas for how to bless a particular space in your home not mentioned in these resources, I’m including a few of the blessings I wrote below.

Peace be with you.

 

FOR THE BASEMENT

Holy One, the ground of all life, make firm the foundation of this home and the lives of those who dwell here. Bestow your guidance and strength, we ask, in the work of bringing all the layers of ourselves into the light of your love. Be with us as we encounter the depths of ourselves and of our life in you.

 

FOR THE FRONT ENTRYWAY

Peace to this house and to all who enter. May this home be a haven for those who dwell here, and a place of welcome and refreshment to those who visit.

 

FOR THE MASTER BATHROOM

May each new day begin with a spirit cleansed and renewed, fresh as morning dew, ready to receive the day’s offering.

 

FOR THE ATTIC

Just as the roof shelters your home, may you feel God’s love and protection guarding you throughout life’s storms.

 

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Blessing of the Backpacks

August 14th, 2018 | 1 Comment

The children of Good Shepherd brought their backpacks to church this week. During the service they were invited to the front of the sanctuary to receive a blessing for the start of the new school year. Boys and girls filled the space in front of the pews and into the center aisle, and adults who work in the schools bookended the group.

“Are you excited about the start of school?” the priest asked the assembled students. After a lackluster response he smiled and said, “Let’s try this again.” With heightened energy he repeated the question, and received a rousing “Yes!” balanced with an equally emphatic “No!” from a couple of voices.

The priest reminded them that it’s as important to ask the right question as it is to give the right answer. I felt grateful that such uncommon and important wisdom was offered not only to them but to the entire congregation. He said a prayer, dipped a branch of greenery into a bowl, and flung sprinkles of holy water over the gathering he blessed the backpacks, the children, and the school year about to begin and the learning they will do.

I can still see one girl, about eight years old, standing square-shouldered in her sundress, curly blond hair in a short ponytail above the pink flowered pack on her back. She stood at rapt attention, receiving the entire ritual with dignity and reverence.

The priest asked the children to turn around and see all the people in the congregation who were praying for them as they start the school year, which made some of their eyes grow wide. Their response was a reminder to me of the power of such a gathering, and the energy of shared and fervent prayer offered in a sacred space.

May that prayer multiply and enfold all children as this school year begins:

May each child feel welcomed in their classroom.

May their teachers be centered in the value of their calling, and upheld by their community.

May each child feel loved.

May they make new friends.

May they learn patience with themselves when the lessons are difficult, and celebrate when the lessons are learned.

May they help one another and learn from one another.

May they be safe.

May they be healthy.

May their creativity be encouraged.

May their curiosity be affirmed.

May they delight in the joy of learning.

May they have the support they need.

May they be known and recognized for the unique and beautiful person they are.

And may all of us surround and enfold teachers, students, and schools with our love and care.

 

 

 

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What Happens When We Pray

August 11th, 2015 | 2 Comments

I’ve recently spent time wandering through some of Ireland’s ancient monastic sites, and I continue to think of those monasteries and the beautiful settings where they were built. The buildings are in ruins now, emptied by war and worldly powers. Yet for a time these sites were a refuge for books and learning, and a place where Christianity met Celtic culture in a way that strengthened both.

Who could have anticipated the value of these sanctuaries to the centuries that would follow? The books copied by the monks in their scriptoriums salvaged Western learning after the fall of the Roman empire. Today, the religious impulse that gave rise to them permeates the walls that remain standing.

Clonmacnoise Ruins, Ireland

The stone structures with roofs open to the sky are beautiful remnants, the outward form of an encounter with God. Even more, the sense of divine presence in places like Clonmacnoise and Glendalough invites the pilgrim to seek his or her own encounter with the Source.

I happen to also be reading an exploration of prayer by Ann Belford Ulanov and Barry Ulanov, called Primary Speech: A Psychology of Prayer. It’s an encouraging and inspiring description of what prayer can be. The divine intersection of my travels and of reading this book is something the Ulanovs would see as an answer to prayer, with God’s response often found in the small events of our lives.

In Primary Speech, Ann and Barry Ulanov offer insight into what happens when we bring our full selves to prayer—all our thoughts and feelings, our dreams and regrets, our best selves and our worst. Through prayer, whatever we bring to God is transformed. In bringing everything to prayer we open ourselves, and our lives, to being shaped by the divine—not in a way that denies our individuality but in a way that brings out the brilliance of the gems we were created to be. Prayer opens us to be healed and strengthened, our lives made larger and more joyful.

Primary Speech by Ann and Barry Ulanov

 

We can’t transform ourselves, but we can allow God to continue creating us. When we act on our deep impulse to pray, we experience the God who is always at work in our lives and who responds to our prayer in a variety of ways, which we will notice if we pay attention. Prayer opens a window to the stuffy room of our limited mind, and God is the fresh breeze that enters.

Paul Prather’s recent column on prayer in the Lexington Herald-Leader underscores this lesson for me. In his eloquently straightforward way, he says that even pastors are subject to forgetting to pray when life gets busy. But his recent recommitment to spend quiet time with God every day, even for just a few minutes, has brought him refreshment in the midst of a stressful life.

Prayer changes things. It changes me and it seems to affect the world around me. I’m a novice at prayer and may always be so, but beginner’s mind is not a bad thing. Who knows what might be possible?

 

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Positive Energy and Prayer

May 15th, 2015 | 2 Comments

Some of the important people in my life ask for prayer when things are difficult. Others ask for positive energy or healing thoughts when they are in need of support. Both are asking for spiritual support, but in different ways.

Bumblebee in Flight with Redbud Tree

There are good reasons for not using each other’s terms. Religious language may be associated with a world view so painful or constricting that a person rejects the language, the church it came from, and even what it refers to. Yet someone who rejects “prayer” may respond with warmth and love when the request is to “send good thoughts.” The value of the spiritual connection remains, it just needs to be seen in a different context, with a new way of being expressed.

On the other hand, shared language is part of what forms the bonds of a community. Within a community for whom prayer is a positive and meaningful shared experience, to ask for prayer is to make reference to what is held in common. To use another term would be to place oneself outside that shared experience and strain against the community’s identity.

So the language we use says something important about who we are. The difference in language reflects a difference in where we find meaning and belonging. But despite our differences, we share a need for the spiritual support of others. Regardless of how we express it, we know that we are connected in a spiritual way and that our connection matters.

I don’t know how prayer works. But I trust that we are connected to a level of reality beyond the physical world. Even the physicists tell us that beneath the appearance of things the world is made of energy. Some of that energy manifests as material objects, but matter is not the solid reality that we think of it as being.

Physics is offering us new ways of understanding creation and new metaphors. We are energy, we are connected to the energy around us, and connected to others through this energy. Our actions, our thoughts, and our love have an effect on the web of reality, the field of energy, beyond us. When we pray for others we are connected to them. Prayer directs our thoughts, our actions, and our love toward where they are needed, and puts more than we can know into motion.

There may be additional things we can do for the people we pray for. Thoughts, actions, and love can be directed in many practical ways. But prayer is an important means of putting energy into motion, of being connected. Many things can be prayer, or can be done prayerfully. Packing a box of supplies for people who need them as we direct our compassion toward them can be prayer. Bringing love and concern and hope for those who are suffering as we prepare food, or visit a hospital room, or write a note, can be prayer.

Whether we call it positive energy or prayer, this way of sharing love and strength is an important part of caring for one another. It helps to know what kind of language is meaningful to the person we’re talking to. But whether we say, “You’re in my prayers” or “I’m sending positive energy your way,” we’re talking about a spiritual effort. Making that commitment means we care, we want to help, and we will add our energy to the spiritual network that sustains them. Its workings are a mystery, but the spiritual help we offer matters.

You might be interested in an earlier post, “What It Means to Say ‘You’re in My Prayers,” or in “How to Pray for Another.”

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Impermanence

April 19th, 2015 | 4 Comments

As part of the Spiritual Directors International conference in Louisville, April 14-17, 2015, these monks from the Drepung Gomang Center for Engaging Compassion  and the Drepung Gomang Sacred Arts Tour created a sand mandala for the sake of wisdom, compassion, and healing.

 

The monks lean across lines and arcs

like the funnels they wield,

Tibetan Sand Mandala 1

as if tilting a column of sand

up the spine

to pour from a third eye.

 

The grains trickle in rivulets

between skeletal lines

penciled onto a blue field.

Tibetan Sand Mandala 2

This gold, this red,

in precisely this place—

the design takes flesh

in lavish detail.

Tibetan Sand Mandala 3

 

This work is prayer

begun with chant

from which the air yet hums.

Tibetan Chant Ritual

Ringing metal, rubbed like a firestarter,

sings as it coaxes sand

from the tiny mouth of a ribbed silver cone.

Tibetan Sand Mandala Detail

For days the sand pours,

Tibetan Sand Mandala 4

the chants rise,

Tibetan Sand Mandala Detail

the mandala widens.

Tibetan Sand Mandala Nearly Complete

 

Each morning a ritual:

with one hand the leader rings a bell,

with the other he holds a blade.

Tibetan Ritual Table

Beside the completed design

sits a white flower

in a silver bowl.

Tibetan Sand Mandala with Lotus

Atop the lotus of sand

in the mandala’s center,

the bowl becomes a mirror.

Now the blade, ever-present

through all the days of creation,

cuts from the points of the compass

to the center—

destruction from every direction.

Tibetan Sand Mandala Silver Bowl

A brush sweeps the careful work

into swirls of muddied color—

Sweeping Away the Sand Mandala

a heart-sob—

for all the careful tending vanished,


 Sweeping the Sand Mandala

for every thing of beauty gone.

 

Tibetan Sand Mandala Brushed Away

 

 

 

Tibetan Monks in Headdress

 

Behind four monks clad in gold,

Tibetan Monks Walking to the Ohio River

a quiet crowd walks to the river.

As if in tribute,

four golden planes fly

in formation overhead.

Golden Eagles Flyover

 

Standing in the current,

the silver-haired leader

tilts a vessel,

Tibetan Ceremony Pouring Sand

yielding to the river

the sand,

the work,

the prayers,

the loss,

the acceptance.

Tibetan Monk at the River

The river carries this embodiment

of compassionate understanding

out into the world.

Tibetan Monks at the River

 

Returning,

the four walk with ease,

smiling, their shoulders relaxed,

Tibetan Monks

while I keep taking

photographs to keep.

Lotus After Sand Mandala Ceremony

 

Susan Christerson Brown

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Prayer-Filled Air

September 6th, 2014 | 2 Comments

At the edge of the parking lot at Third Street Coffee is a section of tall chain link fence. It might serve as a divider between lots, but its primary role is that of connection, just as the coffee shop serves to foster community. The chain link canvas is a place for statements to be made without words, a place that emanates prayers.

 

Love Locks for Lexington at Third Street Coffee

Love Locks for Lexington at Third Street Coffee

 

Mostly it holds small padlocks, an echo of the love locks attached to bridges around the world. The practice apparently arose from a poem called “Prayer for Love” by Serbian poet Desanka Maksimovic.  The result has been bridges where so many couples have attached locks as a symbol of their love and devotion that the cumulative weight threatens the structure of the entire bridge. The locks, meaningful as they are individually, become more than the bridge can bear and have to be removed. The fence at Third Street invites Love Locks for Lexington, a sign of commitment to this city.

The image of all those locks, the public statement that the love they represent matters, has power. The symbol of commitment, locked together in love, has power as well. An outward manifestation of an inward grace—that’s the definition of a sacrament. Perhaps that’s the best way to think of this expanse of chain link. It’s a structure that supports something sacramental, an organically arising symbol of devotion. The practice hasn’t been handed down through the ages, but is something rising up, like blades of grass.

Prayer Flags at Third Street Coffee

Prayer Flags at Third Street Coffee

Also on the fence is a line of brightly colored squares of cloth, embellished with simple designs. What can they be but prayer flags, sending prayers and blessings into the world with every passing breeze, through every fleeting glance.

Some devout Buddhists turn small cylinders they carry with the words of a prayer tucked inside, or spin larger wheels built into the walls of a monastery or placed in the river and powered by water. Each spin of the prayer wheel sends the words into the universe, an act of merit for the one who offers the prayer. Prayer flags work the same way, releasing blessings into the air as they flutter in the wind, the air filled with prayer, thick with blessing, a palpable presence, the people changed by breathing power and grace, day and night.

Appropriately enough, there are coffee mugs on the fence at Third Street, too. There are more, of course, inside the café where it’s noisy with talk and laughter and music. The air is filled with the aroma of coffee, and bustles with the delivery of fresh Peruvian beans in a cardboard box, the opening of doors and scraping of chairs, the sounds of connection, conversation, the exchanges that change a day, change a life, change everything.

 

 

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Does Prayer Make a Difference?

January 28th, 2014 | 4 Comments

A few weeks ago, on the recommendation of friends who found it meaningful, I read Eben Alexander’s Proof of Heaven: A Neurosurgeon’s Journey into the Afterlife. It describes his extended near-death experience, a story he would have viewed with skepticism before slipping into the coma in which his view of reality changed.

Believing that near-death experiences could be explained by certain types of brain activity, Alexander had long dismissed such experiences as hallucinations with no correlation to external reality. But with his rare illness, all activity was shut down in the part of the brain where such stimuli could occur. The kind of brain activity to which Alexander had attributed classic near-death experiences was simply not possible in his brain during this time.

I don’t share the skeptical view of the soul held by Alexander before his experience, but I would not have picked up this book without my friends insisting it was worthwhile. I’m glad they convinced me. I won’t try to describe the experiences he relates, but his compelling story has remained with me since I finished reading it. One aspect to which I keep returning has to do with prayer.

During his sojourn, the time came when he could no longer gain access to the divine realm. Alexander found himself sent back, descending into a physical world that he did not remember. But he was drawn to his destination in this life by faces and voices that emerged from the chaos and became clear to him. Later he realized that those whom he saw and heard were the loved ones gathered in a circle around his hospital bed, praying for him. The single additional person he saw was the minister’s wife, who was not at his bedside but prayed for him at home. He became aware of a young boy pleading fervently for his life, then realized with a shock that it was his young son. At that point, remembering his life on earth and people he loved, he re-entered the physical world. The prayers of others had oriented him as he moved between realms and led him back to his life.

It’s not hard to see the value of prayer in terms of naming our concerns and laying down our burdens. We draw strength from our sense of connection with others, and prayer brings us closer to God and to those for whom we pray. The affirmation of being heard helps empower us to cope with difficulties. Prayer also focuses our attention, helping us to recognize guidance from the divine. But to speculate about where our prayers go, or what it means that God hears our prayers, or how prayers work, is more difficult. How can we speak about any realm but this one, or any reality beyond our personal experience of prayer?

I had Alexander’s story on my mind when I learned that someone I care about had a sudden, debilitating stroke. His condition sounded dire. I was afraid for him and his family. I didn’t know what to ask for. But I prayed. I prayed for health and healing. I prayed for strength—for him and for his family. I thought about all of them continually. And I kept praying, as did his large family, a network of friends, and his church. Within a few days he came back in a way that seems miraculous, with a determined effort in physical therapy that allowed him to go home far sooner and in better shape than anyone could have hoped for.

What allowed this to happen? Did all of those fervent prayers change his outcome? Could they have affected his ability to recover? It’s impossible to know for sure, but it looks that way to me. The prayers didn’t make things smooth or easy, but in a time of extreme crisis they seem to have made a difference.

Yet on the dark side of answered prayers are those that seem to go unanswered, pleas for health and healing that do not come to fruition. Why would God intervene for some requests and not for others?

I have no good answer to that question. But the fact that miracles don’t occur every time doesn’t mean they never do. The world is more than we can fathom. And the messages all around seem to keep urging that we pray.

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