“Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee.” – Augustine of Hippo, Confessions
“My God and my all.” – Simple prayer of St. Francis of Assisi
I play bass…but I’m a guitarist. Whatever identity that I have as a bass player is due to the fact that I wanted to start playing on a worship team band, but they didn’t need a guitarist – they needed a bass player. As a guitarist I was pretty much self-taught, so I shifted my efforts to figure out the bass – soaking up whatever knowledge I could from actual bass players (this was before the thing called YouTube).
One time a well known worship leader and songwriter named Danny Daniels came through our mountain town, and I was asked to play bass for him. Well, Danny knew exactly what he liked from the bass, and I’m sure my tendency was to overplay. So, Danny told me to play less, but he used an analogy that really helped. He said that it was kind of like building a fence. In order to have a strong fence, you need strong fence posts. He said that the drums and bass were the band’s fence posts.
Never Underestimate the Power of Rhythm
I’ve found the idea of fence posts helpful in my ‘rhythms’ of life and my walk with God. When it comes to forming practices in our lives around relational encounter with God, it is not about the big sweeping changes and actualizing our pious ideals. Rather, it’s about the little things. It’s about consistently showing up. Different church traditions over thousands of years have developed their own ways of creating these spiritual fence posts (of prayer and scripture) throughout their day. For instance, in the Episcopal tradition they have what is called the Daily Office. In the Anglican tradition they have canonical hours of daily services where they have Morning Prayer and Evening Prayer, utilizing the Common Book of Prayer. While for some liturgy may feel forced or rigid, the purpose is to have a strong rhythm of prayer and scripture – orienting (and reorienting) our days around Jesus and His way.
So, the question is:
How can we drive spiritual fence posts into the soil of the schedules that order our lives?
Content
For many, the prayer apps that are available now are meaningful additions to cultivate rhythms. I have used the Lectio 365 app for 4 years now (since it first came out). The readings each day are also accompanied by well produced recordings of the reflection. There is a morning entry and evening entry. I find the content to be fresh and timely.
Timing
Of course, content alone does not make rhythm. It’s essential to show up. Showing up is a choice. Very few of us have schedules so jam packed that we can’t find 10 minutes to spend with the Lord. In those situations where that is the case, it is probably safe to say that you need to stop more than anyone else. What it most comes down to is the intentionality of stopping, not turning on the TV, computer, or social media.
My Daily Office
My Daily Office (that has actually been regular and sustainable) is:
- Morning: Lectio 365 Morning (Usually during my morning coffee, or commute)
- Midday: Pray the Lord’s Prayer (I set an alarm to go off everyday at 11am. When it goes off, I stop and pray.)
- Evening: Lection 365 Evening (before bed)
Additional Rhythms
Beyond the daily rhythms, what might weekly, monthly, and yearly times of intentionally engaging our relationship with God look like. What does a weekly sabbath look like? Where you stop work – to be before the Lord in an extended kind of way. Monthly? Yearly?
First Thing in First Place
I’ve found that when it comes to Rule of Life, it’s less about adding something new, and more about prioritizing and ordering our lives so that the most important thing takes precedence – over all others. So, these fence posts whether they be how we engage in our intimate connection with God, connection with others, or the physical ways we steward our resources and bodies, they come front and center – and we let everything else happen around that framework of life. Because of that, our Rule of Life (I believe) can’t be complex. It must be livable.
