{"id":4885,"date":"2025-09-15T09:06:16","date_gmt":"2025-09-15T13:06:16","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/js1cd06kre.onrocket.site\/?p=4885"},"modified":"2025-09-15T09:06:16","modified_gmt":"2025-09-15T13:06:16","slug":"action-praying","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/glennsreflections.com\/index.php\/2025\/09\/15\/action-praying\/","title":{"rendered":"Action Praying"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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To listen to today’s reflection as a podcast,\u00a0<\/em>click here<\/a>

Peggy Guggenheim figured she should at least give the guy a shot.

The New York City socialite and art collector had crisscrossed Paris in 1940 as the Nazis closed in, purchasing a treasure trove of modern art. She returned home eager to put it on display \u2013 and, if possible, to sponsor a \u201cNew York School\u201d of young artists who might put America on the global artistic map.

One of the candidates was a tempestuous oil painter named Jackson Pollack. He self-medicated his emotional ups and downs with alcohol \u2013 definitely not a recommended self-improvement strategy.

Guggenheim reluctantly gave him a small stipend so at least he could eat. Then, in 1943, she offered him a single gigantic project \u2013 a mural that would hang in her office lobby. She gave him exactly six months to fill that enormous 8-by-20-foot canvas.

Pollack froze.

No ideas came to mind. Twenty-four hours before the deadline, the canvas was empty. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, an artistic volcanic explosion. Pollack completed the entire work in a single night.

No one had ever seen anything quite like it.

It\u2019s called Mural 1943<\/em>. It\u2019s also the image that accompanies this post. At first glance it appears \u2013 in the words of art critic Debra N. Mancoff \u2013 to resemble 100 raw eggs thrown against a wall. But then you begin to notice a surprising coherence of colors and waves \u2013 kind of like a Saturday night session of free jazz, seemingly random but always returning to a dominant theme.

One observer said the mural reminded him of a man wrestling a bear to the ground. Pollack himself, standing back after his all-night blitz, described it as \u201ca stampede of every animal in the American West, cows and horses and antelopes and buffaloes.\u201d

Regardless of what creatures the picture tended to inspire, it gave birth to a movement that came to be called abstract expressionism.

And Jackson Pollack was the tortured soul at the center of it all.

Within a few years, he abandoned the use of an easel. He moved his canvases to the floor so that he could have complete access to them \u2013 walking up from all four sides, sometimes walking on the canvas itself, dribbling paint, pouring it, throwing it, utilizing sticks and knives, blending in sand, glass, cigarette butts, coins, and other objects that occasionally fell out of his pockets.

Pollack threw his body into painting. Every gesture, every movement, every unfettered human emotion was reflected in his work.

Art critic Harold Rosenberg, attempting to describe this commitment of the whole person to the creation of a single work of art, called it \u201caction painting.\u201d Mancoff notes that between 1947 and 1952, Pollack produced \u201ca magisterial series of monumental works that were unparalleled in scale, bold expression, and raw vitality.\u201d

His fame exploded.

Pollack, however, crumbled in the spotlight. He never found inner peace. Driving drunk, he died in an accident a mile from his home in 1956 at age 44. Just as the public became fascinated with the star-crossed actor James Dean, who also left the world too soon at the wheel of his car, Pollack became a symbol of heroic but tragic self-expression.

During his early years, you could have taken home a Jackson Pollack painting for $150. Today you\u2019d be lucky to buy one for $150 million.

\u201cTragic self-expression\u201d is a great way to describe action painting. You certainly wouldn\u2019t use those words to describe the way most people pray. \u00a0

Unless of course, you\u2019re talking about Psalm 88.\u00a0

No one knows for sure who wrote it, or what occasion precipitated its words. Even though at least half the Old Testament\u2019s 150 psalms fall into the category of \u201clament\u201d \u2013 a cry of the heart that expresses anger, frustration, or sadness in the presence of God \u2013 Psalm 88 explores depths that are found nowhere else in the Bible.

\u201cI am overwhelmed with troubles and my life draws near to death,\u201d the psalmist writes in verse 4. \u201c\u00a0I am set apart with the dead, like the slain who lie in the grave, whom you remember no more, who are cut off\u00a0from your [that is, God\u2019s] care\u201d (verse 5).

\u201c<\/sup><\/strong>You have put me in the lowest pit,\u201d he goes on,\u00a0\u201cin the darkest depths. You have taken from me my closest friends\u201d (verses 7-8). \u201cWhy, Lord, do you reject me and hide your face from me?\u201d (verse 14).

Gut-punch wails like these are found on the lips of other Bible characters, including Job, Elijah, and Jeremiah \u2013 not to mention the cry of God\u2019s own Son on the cross: \u201cMy God, my God, why have your forsaken me?\u201d

But those stories all have hopeful endings.

That\u2019s the most disconcerting thing about Psalm 88. There is no final word of assurance or flourish of hope. \u201cYou have taken from me friend and neighbor \u2013 darkness is my closest friend\u201d (verse 18).

Darkness is my closest friend?<\/em> Is that any way to end a psalm?

American Christians struggle with such raw honesty. By and large, we prefer Bible texts that go on and on about God\u2019s grace and mercy.\u00a0

Years ago I visited a local synagogue to ask a rabbi a few questions about Passover. I was hoping for about 10 minutes of his time. He graciously gave me two hours. During the course of our fascinating conversation, he said something I have never forgotten: \u201cYou Christians are too nice when you pray. Why are you so afraid of taking on God face-to-face?\u201d

According to the book of Genesis, Jacob \u2013 Abraham\u2019s grandson \u2013 spends a whole night wrestling not with an 8-by-20- foot canvas, but with the angel of the Lord. The next day he is renamed \u201cIsrael,\u201d which means \u201che wrestles with God.\u201d

Jacob\u2019s descendants have been wrestling with God ever since.

That\u2019s what the author of Psalm 88 is doing. He\u2019s modeling \u201caction praying\u201d \u2013 involving his whole person in the act of confronting God. He\u2019s unleashing his fury, doubling down on his impatience, dribbling in some disappointment, then mixing up the whole batch with anything else that happens to \u201cfall out of his pockets\u201d \u2013 generous dabs of fear, resentment, and despair.

And God welcomes it. Which is why this master class in action praying has never relinquished its spot between Psalms 87 and 89.

All that remains is this cluster of questions:

Are you too nice when you talk to God?
Are you reluctant to let him know how you really feel?
Are you ready to throw your whole person into your next round of prayer?

This we know for sure:

God can handle it \u2013 and he\u2019s ready to hear from you right now.<\/em>
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To listen to today’s reflection as a podcast,\u00a0click here Peggy Guggenheim figured she should at least give the guy a shot. The New York City socialite and art collector had crisscrossed Paris in 1940 as the Nazis closed in, purchasing a treasure trove of modern art. She returned home eager to put it on display \u2013 and, if possible, to… Read more »<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":4886,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[641,179,215],"class_list":["post-4885","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-art","tag-prayer","tag-psalms"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/glennsreflections.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4885","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/glennsreflections.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/glennsreflections.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glennsreflections.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glennsreflections.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4885"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/glennsreflections.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4885\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4887,"href":"https:\/\/glennsreflections.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4885\/revisions\/4887"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glennsreflections.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4886"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/glennsreflections.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4885"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glennsreflections.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4885"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glennsreflections.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4885"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}