One of the classical definitions of prayer suggests that “prayer is lifting mind and heart to God.” Simple, clear, and accurate. Our problem is that we seldom actually do this when we pray. Rather than lifting up to God what is on our minds and hearts, we treat God as someone from whom we need to hide the truth of our thoughts and feelings. Instead of pouring out our minds and hearts, we tell God what we think God wants to hear, not murderous thoughts, desire for vengeance, or our disappointment with him. Fr. Rolheiser writes that expressing those feelings is the whole point of heartfelt prayer. Sometimes, we feel good, and our spontaneous impulse is to speak words of praise and gratitude. But we don’t always feel that way. Our lives have too their cold, lonely seasons when disappointment and bitterness spontaneously boil under the surface. One of the beautiful things is knowing that scripture can give us a voice, particularly the Psalms (“Why are you so silent? Why are you so far from me?”), even as they make us aware that God is not afraid of our anger and bitterness but, like a loving parent, only wants us to come and talk about it. As Kathleen Norris puts it: “If you pray regularly, there is no way you can do it right. You will not always sit up straight, let alone think holy thoughts. You won’t wear your best clothes but whatever isn’t in the dirty clothes basket. You come to the Bible’s great book of praises through all the moods and conditions of life, and while you feel like hell, you sing anyway. To your surprise, the psalms do not deny your true feelings but allow you to reflect them right in front of God and everyone.” Feel-good aphorisms that express how we think we ought to feel are no substitute for the earthy realism of the Psalms, which express how we feel. Anyone who would lift their mind and heart to God without ever mentioning feelings of bitterness, jealousy, vengeance, hatred, and war should write slogans for greeting cards and not be anyone’s spiritual advisor.