Finding What’s Been Found

Learning to Use Liturgy

I didn’t grow up Catholic. Or Lutheran. Or Methodist. Or Anglican. Or any of the denominations that even remotely use liturgy. And while I did grow up in within the faith, I never used liturgy growing up.

As a kid I had always felt as though there was a “correct” and an “incorrect” way to talk to God – a false dichotomy in which to say the wrong thing, not approach the prayer with enough honorifics, or just do anything wrong in general meant that the prayer was made void (after all, God obviously wants a spontaneous prayer made up on the spot that contains all the melody and prose of something out the Psalms, and anything less is just lackluster). I believed a freeform, spontaneous prayer was the only way to pray, and to do anything else was to cheat God of your expression of your innermost thoughts.

The concept of “talking to God like you would a friend” had always felt hard to me, too. God didn’t really seem to me like who to talk to about how I had a rough day in math class in the 6th grade, or what I thought about a new Decemberists album, or discussing whether Fingolfin or Fëanor was a more influential elf within The Silmarillion and Lord of the Rings (no, I’m not kidding…).

In fact, prayer itself is something that I’ve struggled with over the years. The idea of talking to the creator of the universe about something mundane as feeling stressed out over a test or about a crush in the 9th grade just never sat quite right. It’s something that I’ve worked at and feel that I have gotten better with, but still, something that will always require a little more practice. And while I have felt that I have arrived at the “talk like a friend” point, I have recently found myself leaning more and more towards something that has been around for millennia: liturgy.

There’s something somewhat comforting about knowing that the words you are speaking are words that have been spoken and thought over for hundreds if not thousands of years. And even in the case of new liturgy, there is something comforting in knowing that there is practically a liturgy for every experience, and to already have words prepared that describe the feelings, emotions, and situations you find yourself in. Knowing that others have said the same prayer as you and found comfort in the same phrases you are using is an amazing feeling. It was as though I had found something that had already been found – it was sitting right underneath my nose (or more accurately, within a relatively close-by library) and I never realized it. Who knew the church fathers were onto something so good, right?

Now I don’t know if I’d advocate for a full liturgy-only view of prayer. Freeform and liturgical definitely both have their uses, and I’ve enjoyed adding another thing to my metaphorical tool belt. I’ll alternate between the two based on mood, situation, time constraints, etc. For those unsure of where to start within the world of liturgy, there are a couple of compilations I would recommend:

• There’s a book I’ve been using a lot lately called Every Moment Holy. It’s put out by Rabbit Room Press (also home to artist Andrew Peterson & co.). Their main point is how we have liturgy for big life events or for prayer or petition, but we forget the notice the presence of God within our normal, everyday lives (something I may write about in the future…). So, in order to recognize the holiness of the everyday moment, they made liturgies for everyday moments (such as doing laundry, watching storms, or for the loss of electricity). I highly recommend this one. I regularly read it and it has already helped me through lots of stuff in the short period of time I’ve owned it.
• Common Prayer: Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals is another one I really enjoy. Its daily, year-long devotional is both well written and has one of my favorite sections of liturgy within it. Each day ends with the prayer: May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you, wherever He may send you / May He guide you through the wilderness, protect you through the storm / May He bring you home rejoicing, at the wonders he has shown you / May He bring you home rejoicing, once again into our doors. It’s a great way to start or end a day.
• Any selection of old liturgy really. Knowing the sanctity of the words you speak and how long they’ve been sacred helps them to carry a certain weight and flavor.

All in all, liturgy is not a catch-all when it comes to prayer. I’m not going to be bold enough to say it will change your life, or that you will be a better Christian if you partake in liturgy. Nor will I say that to use liturgy will rid you of fear and insecurity when you hesitantly sink to your knees in prayer (I’ve found it can help, however). But what I will say is that liturgy has played a strong supporting role for me in the past year or so – the comfort that those words have brought me is something that I hope someone else can feel and empathize with.

If you haven’t used liturgy, give it a shot. See how you feel about it. If you’re a long time liturgist, well done. Maybe try some new liturgy or see how you feel about freeform prayer. Either way, don’t be content in doing the same thing you’ve always done just because that is the way you’ve always done it – if you are willing to try something new, God will find a way to meet you in it.

At least, He did for me.