Review: Prayer in the Night

Prayer in the Night, Tish Harrison Warren. Downers Grove: IVP Formatio, 2021.

Summary: Both an introduction to Compline and a phrase by phrase reflection using one of the loveliest of Compline prayers.

Keep watch, dear Lord,
with those who work,
or watch,
or weep this night,
and give your angels charge over those who sleep.
Tend the sick, Lord Christ,
give rest to the weary,
bless the dying,
soothe the suffering,
pity the afflicted,
shield the joyous,
and all for your love's sake.
Amen

Over the last year of the pandemic, I’ve posted on Facebook prayers, morning and evening, (“Collects”) from The Book of Common Prayer. The prayer above, from of the office of Compline, is one of my favorites, and often I think of particular people as I pray each phrase. During the pandemic this has included the working and weary medical personnel, the people keeping vigil for those in ICUs, the sick and sometimes the dying, those afflicted with long-COVID, and others who struggle with chronic pain and illness. Amid this all I think of the joyous including new parents, graduates, and all of us who have received vaccines. I think of angels watching over and guarding us in the vulnerable moments of our nightly rest. I rest in the care of the Lord who watches for love’s sake.

Thus it was with great delight that I discovered on opening Prayer in the Night that it is organized around this loved prayer. Tish Harrison Warren takes us through her own journey of praying compline, most notably one night with her husband in an emergency room as she hemorrhaged severely during a miscarriage. She introduces us to Compline, the last of the prayers of the hours or offices, to be prayed at night before retiring. She writes of how Compline helped her at a time of loss of a baby and of her father:

“Compline speaks to God in the dark. And that’s what I had to learn to do–to pray in the darkness of anxiety and vulnerability, in doubt and disillusionment. It was Compline that gave words to my anxiety and grief and allowed me to reencounter the doctrines of the church not as tidy little antidotes for pain, but as a light in darkness, as good news.”

Tish Harrison Warren, p. 19.

In succeeding chapters, Warren offers reflections on each phrase of this prayer that come out of her lived experience with praying it. She begins by discussing the God to whom we pray in the dark, and how the prayers operate as cairns, rock structures, that help us keep on the path when we can only feel our way along in fog or the dark. She then turns to the way of the vulnerable–those who weep or watch or work, taking the phrases in reverse order. She concludes:

“Taken together, working and watching and weeping are a way to endure the mystery of theodicy. They are a faithful response to our shared human tragedy–but only when we hold all three together, giving space and energy to each, both as individuals and as the church.”

Tish Harrison Warren, p. 75.

From this she turns to what she calls “a taxonomy of vulnerability.” She describes her renewed understanding of the care of the angels in our sleep as she prayed for her first child each night. Her reflection on sickness includes insights into the wonders of our bodies that we often take for granted until illness. In weariness we are offered rest, one to learn from, and one who intercedes for us. Prayer for the dying reminds us of our own death and how we are taught to live in light of it and our resurrection hope. Suffering and affliction take us into new places of dependence upon God in our weakness, and call the church into depths we are reluctant to go. Then there is the risk of disappointment in joy and our need to be shielded here as well.

Finally, Warren concludes by exploring how God invites us into a deeper encounter with his love. In the night. When we doubt. In our illness and vulnerability. In suffering and affliction. The love of God, revealed in Christ, is the last word of this prayer.

The writing about goodness, truth, and beauty one finds in Warren’s prose is humbling. All I can say is what is found in this book is so much better and richer than my summary. Warren helps me pray a prayer I’ve loved with deeper meaning and consciousness of my vulnerability and the depths of God’s care. She offers good direction for all of us facing “night” in our lives.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.

The Dangerous Practice of Reading in Bed

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“The Bed-Time Book, written by Helen Hay and illustrated by Jessie Willcox Smith. Photo by Plum Leaves, CC BY 2.0 via Flickr (unedited)

Do you like to read in bed? I do. Most of the time, I only read a few pages before nodding off. Usually my wife comes to bed after I do and turns out the light, and I usually wake up just enough to mark my place and put the book aside. Pretty harmless, huh? It wouldn’t have been thought so at one time.

I recently came across a blog on the evils of reading in bed, by Kristen Wardowski, who posts some great stuff about books, reading and writing. She, in turn points to an article in The Atlantic by Nika Mavrody. The gist of both posts is that there were two dangers, one very real and one feared.

The very real danger had to do with how people were able to read in bed. They did so by candlelight. Readers falling asleep could be the cause of fires as candles burned down, or set fire to flammables like curtains in the vicinity. This was the equivalent of smoking in bed, and was considered a form of negligence.

The other danger reflects a shift in the nature of reading from communal to solitary. Sleeping arrangements also shifted in the same way from a time when a family shared a bed or slept in a common room to greater privacy in sleeping arrangements. Reading at one time was something done aloud, in the family circle, and of course needed to be suitable for the various members of the family. Often, it was the Bible that was read (although sex and violence are hardly absent from its pages).

Private, silent reading was feared to lead to private fantasies that distracted one from household duties, particularly those of women. It sounds obsessive that there was societal concern over what someone thought about in solitude. Yet is this so far from concern over what can be viewed on screens which may be obliterated with a swipe or a mouse click, but not erased from our minds?

These days we don’t condemn reading in bed with a broad brush, and that’s an advance. But does what we read in our last waking moments matter? I think of a somewhat humorous incident from early in our married life. I was reading Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee and had dozed off and my wife came in, and I turned to her with a scowl and not fully awake and asked her, “why did you kill all those Indians?” She was not sure she wanted to join me that night.

What we read in bed can entertain us and relax us. But it can also anger us, disturb us, arouse us, or keep us awake far after we should be sleeping. A while back I was reading Kirsten Hannah’s The Nightingale, one of the best books I read last year. But the horrors of the Nazi occupation of France were profoundly disturbing, and not the best things to consider right before I wanted to sleep. This was good reading–for another time of day–at least for me. I would not dictate for anyone else, but I’m coming to realize that some types of reading in bed aren’t helpful.

One type of reading that has been helpful are to read some of the prayers that have been prayed by many others as they close their days. I love these words from the Wednesday compline of the Northumbria Community:

Calm me, O Lord, as You stilled the storm.
Still me, O Lord, keep me from harm.
Let all the tumult within me cease.
Enfold me, Lord, in Your peace.

The prayer concludes with these words:

 The peace of God
be over me to shelter me,

under me to uphold me,

 about me to protect me,

 behind me to direct me,

 ever with me to save me.

I love to think of being enfolded in the peace of God before slipping into the oblivion and helplessness of sleep. To read, and pray, and turn these words over in my mind is good reading. Sometimes it is all the reading I have energy left to do. If that is dangerous, then bring it on. That’s reading I can live with…and sleep with.

Sleep Resources for Christians

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Zwei schlafende Madchen auf der Ofenbank, Albert Anker, 1895

Unless the Lord builds the house,
    those who build it labor in vain.
Unless the Lord watches over the city,
    the watchman stays awake in vain.
It is in vain that you rise up early
    and go late to rest,
eating the bread of anxious toil;
    for he gives to his beloved sleep.

Psalm 127:1-2 (ESV)

Yesterday, I posted a review of Arianna Huffington’s new book, The Sleep Revolution. In a book filled with scientific research and lots of practical help, my only quibble was that the meditations offered were rooted in meditative practices of other faiths and she offered little about the resources within Christian practice for sleep.

I speculated that perhaps Christians themselves have neglected these practices and the instruction of others in them. It was striking that a quick search on Google only yielded two titles from Christian authors on this subject: Surrendered Sleep by Charles Page and The New Bible Cure for Sleep Disorders by Don Colbert M.D. I’ve read neither book and so do not know whether they are helpful or not.

The truth is, many committed Christians are as “macho” about sleep as the culture around us. How few hours of sleep we’ve had is a kind of badge of honor at times. I wonder what it would be like to interject the Psalm above with its statement about the vanity (emptiness) of rising up early and going late to rest. If the number of emails I find in my inbox from colleagues sent after 10 p.m. (and I’ve sometimes been guilty of responding to them) and often into the early a.m. hours of the morning are any indication, we have a problem!

This is often the case in meetings or conferences as well where we rise in the night to catch cross-country flights and then sleep walk through the first day of the conference or meeting. It was such a gift recently to speak at a conference where we were encouraged to arrive the day before to enjoy personal retreat time, or just to recover from travel. A nap shortly after arrival and an early night enabled me to jump with both feet into a day of teaching and personal meetings and still have something at the end.

“The bread of anxious toil” is certainly part of why we stay awake at night. We often carry the conversations, the conflicts, and the troubles of the day to our beds, and then struggle to sleep. In recent years I’ve come to value several practices that are quite helpful. One is the examen of consciousness. The classic questions are what has given consolation and what has given desolation in the day, to look to God with thanksgiving for the former and insight, and sometimes forgiveness, for the latter. I have also come to love compline prayers, which may be found in the Book of Common Prayer. I’ve also love the compline prayers developed by the Northumbria Community, a Celtic Christian community. This is a portion of the Wednesday compline:

I will lie down this night with God,
and God will lie down with me;
I will lie down this night with Christ,
and Christ will lie down with me;
I will lie down this night with the Spirit,
and the Spirit will lie down with me;
God and Christ and the Spirit,
be lying down with me.

* The peace of God
be over me to shelter me,

* under me to uphold me,

* about me to protect me,

* behind me to direct me,

* ever with me to save me.

What a marvelous thought to know oneself surrounded and protected by the Triune God. When I travel and am sleeping alone and in a strange bed, it is a comforting thought that I am not alone in bed but God is with me and protecting me in this strange place.

As we age, we often wake during the night. Sometimes, all I’ve needed to do is begin praying the Lord’s Prayer, applying each phrase to my own situation, and many times I do not finish. There are breath prayers, like “Lord Jesus, I love you” (breathing in on the first phrase, out on the second). There are also prayers for the night hours. Phyllis Tickle collected these in a book titled The Night OfficesWhen I am particularly wakeful, I have found it helpful to get up rather than toss and turn and pray these prayers.

I wonder at times if our denial of sleep in our culture reflects our denial of death. There is a verse in a hymn by Thomas Ken set to the tune Tallis Canon that says:

Teach me to live, that I may dread
the grave as little as my bed.
Teach me to die, that so I may
rise glorious at the judgment day.

Christians are people who in one sense have already died with Christ (Galatians 2:20) and so while we love life and still consider death “not as it was meant to be” we no longer fear death. Our daily rest may well be preparation for our eternal rest. The little “surrenders” we make each day to sleep may very well be preparations for surrendering ourselves to God in death, trusting him to raise us in Christ to new and everlasting life. Hence, as the psalmist writes, sleep is a gift which God bestows on his beloved children. Will you welcome that gift this night?