MANGER ZONE
We were setting up for Sunday service a couple of weeks ago, with the usual bustle of preparation — sweeping, brewing coffee, unfolding chairs, stuffing songbooks, setting the lights and music. My friend Bryn was arranging materials on the information table. As I ran by, heading in two directions at once, my eye was caught by the box for prayer requests.
I made a quick mental note for myself and said offhandedly to Bryn, “I need to remember that I’ve got a bunch of prayers to put in there today!” She quipped, “Well, it’s good that you’ve got somewhere to put them.”
Such an excellent reply. It’s stuck with me.
It’s good that we have someplace to put our prayers.
We could put them lots of different places. And it matters where we place them, how we hold them, to whom we offer them, with whom we share them — our hopes, our concerns, our struggles, our thankfulness.
Is dropping my prayer into the box like tossing a penny in a wishing well? Or do I scream it into the void? Should I cradle and nurture it in my own heart, remembering that the fullness and creativity of Life Itself already flows through me? Or is there something about entrusting this prayer to community and our mutual responsibility? Do I lift it up with faith in humanity and the ultimate goodness of the Universe? Or is it a heavy, last-ditch act of desperation? Is my prayer a thing of personal empowerment, or one of surrender, or both?
Maybe all of the above.
I stopped what I was doing and wrote out my prayer. Because I realized that until I did, I was habitually defaulting to my unconscious mode of putting my prayers into busy-ness and overwhelm. Into my self-induced pressure to get it “right.” I was putting my unconscious prayers into to-do lists and productivity. And while there’s nothing wrong with that, in and of itself, still it’s not entirely consistent with a prayer for peace and grace and ease and connection and plenty.
So I paused, and breathed, and set some intentions. And the difference was fairly instantaneous.
I’ve been thinking about Advent, the month-long lead-up to Christmas in the Christian calendar. And about “adventure.” And the connection between those words.
“Advent” came first. From Latin adventus — “arrival,” or “coming.”
“Adventure,” was a little later. First referring to something that happened unexpectedly, by chance or luck, then taking on the sense of risk or danger and excitement, but also sometimes meaning something marvelous or miraculous.
Advent says something’s coming. Adventure is how we approach it — our risky and remarkable, wondrous and self-defining journey.
I’m reminded of Albert Einstein’s famous quote: “Imagination is everything; it is the preview of life’s coming attractions.”
Our imagination absolutely includes our prayers — what they are where we put them. What we believe and allow as possibility, all the ways that we envision said possibility becoming alive in the world, and our adventurous participation in this living process.
I think the manger in the Nativity story is kind of like the prayer request box on our Sunday morning information table. It’s a place to put our prayers, yes. Our imagination and anticipation and sense of possibility. Something beautiful and new to be born. And it’s also a source of nourishment, right now. A manger is first and foremost a trough from which livestock eat — hey, hay!
It seems like there’s something about both giving and receiving in this. That what we take is related to what we’re putting in. Certainly this suggests some self-reliance, but I think it’s also bigger than that. Because what we put in — our prayer — always includes our sense of who we are together, our relationships and connections to each other and to everything.
I can’t wait to be with you this Sunday, December 14, at 10:00am. With the divine Patty Stephens. XO, Drew
©2025 Drew Groves
