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Expectancy, Not Expectation in Prayer

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When I began praying in color, I did it out of desperation. I was praying for almost a dozen people  in my life with terrible cancers and I was left wordless in prayer. Doodling, sitting dumbstruck, and just releasing my friends into God’s care were the only things I could do. After a dozen years of praying this way and with a retrospective eye, I see this way of praying as “being expectant” rather than “having expectations.”

Prayer, for me, has often meant a list of specific requests and the expectation of specific results: “Heal John.” “Make my kids do what I think they should do.” “Make me a nice person.” “Tell me exactly where to live and what to do with my life.” My prayers for healing and direction will be answered. Isn’t that the promise? “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” Matthew 7:7 (NIV) I don’t always–maybe not even often–get the direct, specific response I want.

Advent, my favorite season of the year, has taught me to be “expectant” rather than to have “expectations.” Though the roots of the words are the same, the first feels like an attitude of wide-eyed openness and humility rather than a sense of entitlement and arrogance that the second implies. “An expectation is a premeditated resentment” says the daily reader The Courage to Change on p.153. If I “expect” to get what I want, I may not just be bitterly disappointed, but also resentful. And when I expect specific results in prayer and don’t get what I ask, I resent God and sometimes even conclude that God does not exist. “Expectancy” helps me to honor the possibilities beyond my wants and my imagination. It bows before the wisdom and creativity of a Power way bigger than my puny, often self-focused mindset.

So when I doodle in prayer I try to let go of my expectations and trust God. “Here’s what I think I want, God; now it’s yours.” God knows the real needs and has marvelous things in mind for my friends and for me. “Healing always takes place,” says my priest friend Merry. “It just may look and feel different than we ever imagined.”

Expectancy resized

First Sunday of Advent Expectations

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Today is the first of the four Sundays of Advent. My expectations of these four weeks called Advent are probably at least as unreasonable as the ones I have about Christmas. I expect Advent to be a time of lush spiritual preparation for the “coming” of Jesus with long periods of quiet, study, and reflection. My fantasy image includes a cozy chair in a tidy corner of my house equipped with books, art supplies, blankets, a Bible and a haze of purple lights.

As usual my expectations are problematic. “Tidy” is certainly a fantasy and “cozy” is a stretch in my drafty 100-year old house. The whole picture is so private and all about me; it includes neither other people nor the intricacies of daily life in December.

My first Sunday of Advent started away from home, not in the imagined corner of my own house. I did attend a lovely First Sunday of Advent service in a Baltimore Episcopal church called Nativity. The church was all decked out in blue–the other Advent color–with blue candles on the Advent wreath and blue hangings on the altar and pulpit. I have to admit it was beautiful, but it was not the expected purple, my Advent color of choice.

Advent One Collage 2014 resized

My husband and I are now in the Baltimore airport. As we entered the security lines, we noticed the TSA PRE CHECK designation on his boarding pass: no need to remove his belt, shoes, laptop, and quart bag of liquids. I have to admit I was really irked. I’m the one who has logged in hours of flight time. I’m Delta Gold. My husband travels much less than I do. What right does he have to get PRE CHECK? My entitlement and expectation of reward for hours in the air are great. Flashbacks of the Parable of the Vineyard in Matthew 20 irritate me even more.

I make a difficult discovery: I am not just an Advent Extremist; maybe I am also an Advent Hypocrite. When I make Advent acclamations like “Come quickly to us,” “Restore us, O God of hosts,” “Renew us,” “Save us,” do I really know what I am asking for? My expectations of God’s salvation and restoration seem to reflect my desire for security, comfort, and maybe even status. Do I really believe the “us” part?

In Advent we often use the word “expectation,” but expectancy might be a better word. Expectancy is not about my personal agenda and satisfaction. It is about having a wide-eyed openness for what God might be up to in the world. This Advent I might ask the serious question: Do I hope for a savior who will make my life comfy and entitled or am I really interested in a kingdom beyond my wildest dreams and expectations, a kingdom under the reign of a God who desires liberty and justice for all.