I try to keep a regular exercise schedule at the gym. Sometimes I’m eager to go there, but often I need a little discipline to get out of the house and on my way. It’s not unusual for me to enter the gym reluctantly. But almost always I leave the gym grateful that I went. As I head back home, I feel energetic, my mind is clear, and my aches and pains are mostly gone. Why do I resist the very thing that brings me so much well-being?

I experience the same phenomenon with prayer. While it’s true that prayer for me is sometimes spontaneous and free, it’s more often the case that I resist turning to prayer. Conflicts, worries, and fears cloud my sense of God’s presence. My urge to fix what’s wrong drives me to action, not meditation. It’s hard to fully live-out my faith when I resist the very source that nurtures that faith.

Finding an Oasis

I was thinking of this on a recent trip to Spokane Washington’s Gaiser Conservatory. With a brisk chill in the air, my husband and I walked from the car to the conservatory entrance, barely glancing at the barren, frost covered garden on the other side of the parking lot.

Stepping through the glass entryway, we found ourselves transported into an instantaneous summer. Lush foliage and fragrant blooms welcomed us on every side. We took it in slowly, allowing the beauty around us to calm our thoughts and heal our hurried souls. When we left the greenhouse, I walked with a lighter step and with hopeful anticipation of warmer days soon to come.

I thought of the contrast between the conservatory and the frozen grounds outside its walls. Giving little thought to the garden, I had depended on the greenhouse to lift my spirits and renew my hope on a wintery day.

Both locations exist to grow flowers and cultivate thriving plant life. But the greenhouse is always there, always blooming and always warm, while the garden lies dormant for half the year to conserve energy and develop root systems that prepare it for a “not yet” season of growth. The greenhouse can offer its winter gifts only because of visionary planning, consistent gardening, and the support of the community. Its perpetual beauty is carefully cultivated.

Finding Room

Like the garden, I cannot maintain a steady pattern of uninterrupted growth. I will enjoy seasons of boisterous celebration but also require the restoration and renewal of dormant retreat. Nevertheless, especially during times of waiting, I need to see beyond the frozen condition of my withdrawn soul, I need to see the breathtaking beauty of what is still to come.

I’ve been reminded of this need recently. The combination of a pandemic, illness, polarizing relationships, and grief have nudged me toward self-protection and withdrawal. This inhospitable environment tempts me to lose sight of God and others. During these times, I’m learning to keep my eyes on the flourishing life yet to come by taking shelter in a conservatory of prayer.

To cultivate this kind of shelter I want to intentionally protect my access to the benefits of prayer by engaging with practices that nurture communication with God, no matter the conditions in which I find myself.  

“When you pray,” Jesus said, “go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father who is unseen.” (Matthew 6:6). I’ve never had much success with following the exact same routine every day. But, I am feeling the need to know where “my room” is and to keep a purposeful pattern of prayer.

Finding Rhythm

The early church fathers and mothers practiced a “rule of life.” This concept is more related to the presence of intentional rhythms in our lives than to the more rigid concept of rules and regulations. According to pastor and spiritual director, Ruth Haley Barton, “it is simply a way of ordering our lives around the values, practices, and relationships that keep us open and available for God’s mysterious work of transformation in our lives.”

During the dark times of the soul’s winter, the structure of a “greenhouse” opens the door for prayer to transform my bleakest days. I’m taking a clue from the Gaiser Conservatory. Thanks to their intentional efforts, there’s a vibrant shelter against the coldest climate winter has to offer.  

I want to form my own prayer conservatory planning team. I’m gathering favorite authors, historical prayers, scripture, and guidance from Christians that think deeply about their spiritual formation to help me become more intentional about the priority of prayer. I’m glad that a rule of life isn’t a rigid routine. I’m pretty sure my prayer conservatory would be doomed before it started if it has to be exactly like someone else’s. But I do know that I need a plan to keep my heart open to God’s work in my life. As I find out more, I’ll share what I’m learning along the pathway of Living Faith*Fully.

Opening the door to the Gaiser Conservatory leaves winter’s frost behind to enter a tropical paradise.