God was there, comforting me with, “ask me instead.” The problem was that I never recognized it for what it was. I didn’t have the skills to recognize it. I was busy with my Sunday School lessons memorizing and reciting. I never learned how to listen, I only learned how to absorb. So, as I struggled with not living a life worthy of God, I just thought it was me not listening, rebelling, or rejecting this critical piece of life that was required for salvation.

Today’s scripture lesson really only includes verses 41-44 - where we hear that Jesus wept over the city. I found it important for this reflection to include the full story back to verse 28 so you have some context. Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem and the disciples bring him a colt to ride into the city - the city where he knows he is going to be crucified. The people sing praises to his name and the Pharisees tell him to send them away. We usually hear this text on Palm Sunday in the liturgical church.

Spiritual disciplines are practices for developing, growing, and strengthening our ability to hear and recognize God in, with, and through our lives. While there is no formal, almighty, list of spiritual disciplines, some are more common than others. Throughout time, people have made suggestions about how to categorize them. Suggestions have included concepts like corporate or individual, internal or external, self-denial or action. I find it best to leave them uncategorized. I often feel pressure to choose equally from each category.

I will say it again, for me, the church is the starting place for recognizing that we are not alone. God has given us to each other. God is with us. Whether we make that divine connection within the four walls of a building or Christ shows himself to us through a connection with another person, the Church is there to remind us we belong and not that we belong to a building with four walls, but to a people of God – we belong to God.

In my previous way of thinking, hearing this scripture from Luke, and saying the Lord’s prayer each Sunday in worship as a child and young adult, I heard the words through the lens of my childhood theology. What I heard was a list of things that I wanted and needed God to do for me – feed me, forgive me, deliver me, keep me away from those people who hurt me. The structure of the prayer was broken down into categories of prayer petitions that provided a model for how all of my prayers should be spoken. And doesn’t it stand to reason, that when a model is provided, our human nature is to deviate from the model as rebels and then feel guilty?