After I prayed for Sue as I described in yesterday’s post, I realized I could pray for the other people on my prayer list in the same way. I drew a shape for each person and added detail and color. I spent about five minutes lifting each person up into the care of God–sometimes with words, sometimes in silence, drawing the whole time. Each stroke of the pen and each splash of color felt like a visible “word” of prayer. The time whizzed by. Not only had I sat with and prayed for my friends, but the result was a visual prayer list.
When I pray in this way, my needs as a visual learner are satisfied. Because I make a drawing, my brain seems to receive a digital image of it. The picture comes back to me during the day. When it does I pray for each person again either by using words or by sitting in silence for a few minutes and knowing each person is cared for by God. I also place the picture where I will see it during the day–next to my computer, on the refrigerator, in the car, at my desk…. Looking at the drawing over and over again is a visual reminder to “pray continually.” (1Thessolonians 5: 17 NIV)
I taught math in a community college for over a dozen years. My school year went from August through the end of May. After grading finals and wrapping up loose ends, I took a sabbatical during June and July. Most of my colleagues taught in the summer. They teased me and said I was the “rich” faculty member because I didn’t teach in the the summer. I replied, ” No, I’m the poor, sane faculty member.” To be a kind and enthusiastic instructor, I needed to take the time for “my soul to catch up to me.”
One of my end-of-school-year and beginning-of-summer rituals was to create a space on the screened-in back porch for reading, journaling, praying, and drinking iced tea. I scrubbed down the grimy walls and floor. The glass-top table and chairs needed a good hose-down from accumulated winter dirt. I dragged my house plants onto the porch. My dog and cat joined the summer exodus to the outside.
With a transformed porch and a sparkling clean table, it was time to begin the work and play of summer. I brought out my basket of markers and drawing paper and began to doodle. Here’s what happened:
I drew a shape.
I added lines, dots, squiggles,….
I drew more detail.
I colored.
Without thinking about it, I wrote the name SUE in the middle of the doodle. (SUE was my friend and sister-in-law with lung cancer.)
I continued to draw and add color and to focus on SUE.
When I finished drawing, I realized I had prayed for Sue. I was offering her into God’s care without words. God didn’t need me to have words. But what I needed to do was to spend time with Sue and God in quiet. Drawing helped to get my insides quiet and to still the voices of worry, control, and despair. In their place was the sweet and certain knowledge of God’s presence in Sue’s life and mine.
About seven years ago, a bunch of friends and family were attacked by a horde of various cancers:
Sue, 47–Stage 4 lung cancer
Peter,38–Glioblastoma
Julia,48–Breast cancer
Charlotte,50–Melanoma
Chuck,55–Non-Hodgkins lymphoma
I prayed for them. ”Lord, please heal them. ” “Let Sue live to see her children graduate from high school.” “Let them feel Your presence and Your love.” “Relieve them of their pain.” “Give them hope.” “Your will be done.” “Thank you for these people in my life.” “Into your hands, God….” My words felt inadequate and small. God did not judge my puny prayers, I’m pretty sure; but I did. I wanted to spend more time in prayer for Sue, Peter, Julia, Charlotte, and Chuck, to be an advocate for their healing. I wanted my prayers and my words to be “good.”
But mostly, my words disappeared. I had to trust the promise of Romans 8:26: “In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.” (NIV). While I could not pray, maybe the Spirit would pray for me.
I am a pray-er and a doodler, and an expert in neither category.
I can’t remember not praying. As far back as my memory takes me, my mother and I prayed together. She was as close to a 1Thessalonians Fiver as anyone I know. She prayed all day long, everyday–maybe not unceasingly and not every minute. But she saw every minute as an opportunity for prayer. This was her legacy to me.
I am a doodler by default. My mother and grandmother, both Sybils, were fine artists. Their visual artistic skills were NOT part of their genetic legacy to me. C’s in art and ugly crayon drawings as a kid gave me a huge sense of shame. After the requisite art courses in junior high, I did not draw again until my friend Cindy O gave me permission to make my First Doodles.
I’ve been praying and doodling for a good while now. About seven years ago, my prayers and my doodles began to collaborate.
Praying in Color: Drawing a New Path to God combines memoir with theology. Step-by step instructions introduce the practice of praying in color as a way to do intercessory prayer. »ABOUT SYBIL MACBETH
