This week, I had the pleasure of spending some time in a 24-7 prayer room at the church some of my friends attend.
Being in a prayer room is not a rare occurence for me. One of the joys of my job is that I often find myself constructing ‘intimacy areas’ out of old bedsheets, or taping speaker boxes together to make a Babylon prayer installation. I love the buzz of starting with an empty room and creating something that helps people meet with God.
What was so refreshing about this week’s experience, however, was that I had nothing to do with any of this. (Except, I have to say, for printing and photocopying the sign-up sheet, but then I like to leave my mark somewhere!) And that made such a difference. I could experience the room for what it was, I could meet God there without having to worry if there was enough paper or if anyone had spilt coffee or if the fish were alive or dead (there were no fish, which admittedly made this job easier for everyone).
Walking into that room was like walking into a prayer room for the first time ever. I experienced the stillness of God’s presence there (even above above the monotonous drone of a persistent drill). I felt intrigued by the different zones that had been set up and the thought that had gone into their creation. I loved rifling through a selection of CD’s before eventually settling on some chilled strings. I felt like a kid in the prayer version of a toy shop – What to look at first? Where to sit down? Do I paint first or dance around for a bit?
One of the things that struck me most about the prayer room, and the 24-7 week in general was that it is taking place in an upper room, while the main church downstairs is being renovated (hence the drill). Interestingly the gentle undertone of construction noise didn’t distract me from praying, it actually made me think – what better time to do 24-7! Something like a building project, when you’re quite literally changing how a church looks physically, strikes me as a great time to turn to prayer and dedicate everything to God!
Lots of things struck me about the room: The plant with little fairy lights spelling out ‘Love, Joy, Peace’ etc reminded me that these qualities are organic and they grow in us. The Bible verses dotted around reminded me of some of the promises I’ve been mulling over in my head recently. The heartfelt, post-it note prayers for God to transform the city challenged me with their passion and fervency, and nudged me to lift up afresh some of the things I’m longing to see God do. The pile of cushions that I sunk into in one corner reminded me of the importance of stopping, encountering God and finding his clarity in our confusion and busyness.
The bit that impacted me most, though, was the aforementioned intimacy area (although I’m pleased to report this one was not created from a manky old bedsheet!) Now, again the rigours of life and work mean I end up in a lot of similar purposed places. I have always liked them well enough and thought they were a good thing to have in any self-respecting prayer space, but I usually find them a little difficult to connect with. Everything is very white, very clean, very pristine and very still. This being the case, I’m generally very tempted to splurge paint all around and make a lot of noise in them. (Not because I have rebellious or destructive tendancies, I hasten to add… I just see white spaces and want to colour them in). Anyway, this intimacy area in this prayer room was different, and it included one detail which changed it from being just another nondescript white area, into a place where I probably did my most significant business with the good Lord.
The thing that made such a difference was simply a stretch of red fabric, torn in half, hanging in the entrance to the area, in such a way that to enter it you have to enter in through the torn fabric halves. For me this was a powerful symbol, speaking clearly of the sacrifice and death of Jesus tearing the temple curtain clean in half, leaving the access open for people to enter into the presence and holiness of Christ. I felt like I could connect with the theme of holiness and intimacy in a new way, because it was so contextualised by the visual reminder that the way is opened to me because of what Jesus did.
I was sad when my time in the room was done, and I was thankful to God for the spontaneous interlude that had only been planned the evening before, that meant I could have this space. So it’s a well done to my friends who’ve worked tirelessly to set it all up, and a thanks to God too for showing up when we pray.
