Today is St. Patrick’s Day…that heady celebration of spring and green where people in the United States (and other nations), tired of winter, throw on garishly bright t-shirts, slap “Kiss Me, I’m Irish!” buttons and stickers onto their clothes, and head out for a day of food, fun, and maybe some raucousness.

Although I am a person of Irish heritage, I’ve never been too interested in the holiday–I think it was the pinching that turned me off. Why would you subject someone to physical pain simply because florid green isn’t in their color wheel? Plus, I don’t like beer.

That said, I do enjoy history, especially when it comes to the church. So, on this feast day of St. Patrick, patron-saint of Ireland, I thought it might be interesting to take a quick dip into the “old church” files and see what we might make of this 5th century bishop who most certainly did not speak parseltongue (see Harry Potter) or teach object lessons with shamrocks, but who did seek to make disciples of the Irish people.

St. Patrick, according to historians, was likely born in Wales which, in the 5th century, was part of Roman Britain. He was enslaved as a teen and taken to Ireland where he was put to work as a shepherd. The young Patrick spent his days and nights outside, toiling in all kinds of conditions. The work was hard, but according to Patrick in his later writings, he was given a supernatural energy to endure.

In one of his reflections, Patrick wrote that he used his time in captivity to cultivate a deeper relationship with God. While he roamed and watched over the sheep, he would pray–up to one hundred times each day, and when he lay his head down on the ground at night, he would just keep on praying.

It was this life of prayer, characterized in Psalm 42, which gave Patrick the strength to endure his trials on the Emerald Isle. And, according to his writings, it opened his mind to a vision from the Lord in which he saw the ship that would lead him home. After around six years of enslavement, Patrick escaped and returned home. He continued his life of faith, eventually becoming a bishop of the Holy Roman Church. In time, he received another vision from God–it was the voice of an Irish fisherman calling Patrick back to the place of his captivity to minister to the people there.

Instead of turning his back on Ireland, Patrick set his face and his heart toward it. He returned to Ireland, this time in the freedom of Christ, and proclaimed the Gospel message, so that the once pagan nation became predominately Christian. He put aside the pain of his enslavement and offered forgiveness and grace in the place where he was shown very little of it.

I think sometimes, in our highly rational and data-driven age, we forget the divine power of prayer. Jesus talked of faith that moves mountains, and the seed of that faith, I believe, is in prayer. When we pray, we commune with God. We open the door of our hearts to the presence of the Holy Spirit. We let God in, but he doesn’t just sit. He starts moving furniture around. He hangs some pictures. Tears down a wall. Builds a patio and puts in sliding glass doors. God makes his home within us, and if we, like Patrick, can keep the conversation flowing, God’s constant presence within us leads to transformation–not just for ourselves–but for others too.

Prayer doesn’t have to be pretty. It doesn’t have to be formulaic. It doesn’t have to be long or complicated or rote. We pick up a cup of coffee and say, “Thanks.” We look at our children and say, “Help!” We are interrupted by someone not on the schedule and say “Okay.”

There is a prayer widely attributed to St. Patrick which captures the true essence of what living a life of prayer looks like. You can find the entirety of the prayer here, but there is a section near the end that I think encapsulates what I, as a person of faith, am seeking.

I love the imagery of this prayer, because it completely shifts my perspective of what a life of prayer should be. It’s not about bowing my head and closing my eyes, it’s about Christ always. Christ in all things. Christ through all things. Christ over all things.

If we can truly cultivate this kind of life, then what might God do through us? Could we learn to forgive? Could we show mercy? Could we be less self-focused and more generous with our time and our resources? Could we have compassion on those who suffer? And could we seek them out? Could we trust the direction in which God is leading us? Could we answer when he calls?

St. Patrick said yes to all of these things because he lived a life grounded in communion with God. His life, and his prayer, offer a powerful reminder of what God can do…if we are willing to open the door.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Sara