A Visit to the Chapel
On Sunday, having recovered myself enough, I visited the small chapel, deciding we had gotten off on the wrong foot. The liturgy was modest but pleasant, though I take little joy in some things over others. I come for the prayers and the sermon.
The minister preached on the moment when Elijah passed his mantle to Elisha, specifically exploring sacred inheritance, and of the weight that follows calling. Toward the end of the sermon, he posed a question that I have since continued to turn over in my mind: "If I were in Elisha’s place, what would I ask for?"
I remember my first readthrough of scripture and Solomon’s request for wisdom, to be a good leader, and how noble and selfless that seemed to me. It seemed the most kingly thing to do, in fact-- asking not for power, nor riches, nor safety, but for the inner capacity to be the kind of leader God was entrusting him to become. I think I recall praying something similar at the time, but since then I’ve largely asked God for help with personal things; usually for something personal like strength, openness, wisdom, or discernment... lots of grace... what to pray for... and for clarity on what I might learn from my experiences. I pray for the presence of God in my life, and in the lives of those I love, and I pray for the souls of those I don't (this part still needs work, I know). I pray before preaching, that what the God wishes to be heard will be so, above my own shortcomings in communication. I study the scriptures and writings of all sorts, seeking depth and clarity because people naturally come to me for advice and share things openly, and I often feel underqualified to offer much in return.
But this question fell differently with me this time, for a somewhat surprising reason: I have never consciously asked God what to ask for, because I have never assumed it was a simple answer. To ask rightly would require knowing my strengths and weaknesses, in relation to a shape of the future God intends for me. That knowledge is so often hidden, unfolding only in hindsight.
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Still, I think the shape of a request might already live in me somewhere: eyes to see, ears to hear... a willingness, an obedience... a flaming heart that endures the gap between our human world and God's realised Kingdom, and a mouth that, if I am indeed called to use it, speaks freely, clearly, and without fear... Someday I may be ready to ask for something specific, but until then, I continue to pray for whatever will let me carry the mantle most faithfully.
