02/16/2026
A personal reflection Holly (Pastor Ty's wife) shared with our congregation this week 🌿
Dear church family,
Something I have teased Ty about for years is his love for liturgical prayer. As long as we’ve been married, he has sat at the kitchen table every single morning with his prayer book. Yes, he prays in his own words and sits in silence with God too, but he almost always begins his day with liturgy.
For a long time I would sip my coffee curled up on the couch, watching him read from the same book of prayers day after day and think, “Who does this voluntarily? How boring.”
It’s safe to say his appreciation for liturgical prayer came long before mine did.
I can’t say I am someone who regularly prays written prayers on my own, but I do find beauty in the moments when we’re all connected at church, speaking the same words together.
If I’m honest, liturgy once felt too scripted and unfamiliar to me. I even remember not always saying the words out loud in services because I wasn’t sure how I felt about repeating things as a group that way. So if you’ve ever felt that way, I truly understand.
That is partly why I asked Ty to let me send this instead of him. I don’t think that man has a memory of a day he didn’t find liturgy beautiful. I, on the other hand, needed time to warm up to it.
I didn’t grow up in church, so when I first came to a Methodist church at 17, the shared prayers and responses as a congregation felt… strange to me. It doesn’t help that we all usually read the words in the most robotic and bored voice we can muster. At times I felt like I was just checking a box by standing up to read whatever was written for us that morning.
But Ty’s deep respect for liturgy made me curious and that led me to ask a simple question. What is liturgical prayer, really?
Liturgical prayer is structured, shared prayer drawn from Scripture and historic Christian practice. Simply put, it is praying with the Church, not just by yourself, but alongside believers across time and place. It gives us words when we don’t have our own and connects our prayers to a much bigger story.
My personal perspective began to shift when Caroline was born and diagnosed with cystic fibrosis almost eight years ago. I entered a season where I simply didn’t have words to pray. My heart was full, but my mind was tired and overwhelmed.
That was when I began to understand why these prayers exist.
These liturgical prayer rhythms trace back to the very early Church and even to Jewish prayer practices. Jesus Himself prayed the Psalms and followed set rhythms of prayer. This is also part of our Methodist heritage. John and Charles Wesley practiced structured prayer not as something lifeless, but as a way to let Scripture shape their hearts and keep them rooted in Christ.
The disciples once asked Jesus, “Lord, teach us to pray,” and He gave them words. That has always comforted me. Sometimes being given words to pray is not a limitation. It is a gift.
In those early months with Caroline, it struck me that these are not random words. They are Scripture shaped prayers that have carried believers through joy, grief, uncertainty, and hope for generations. I found myself wondering if other mothers in hard seasons had prayed these same prayers before me. Maybe even an ancestor of mine. Maybe even believers centuries ago crying out to the same faithful God.
Repetition can feel empty at first, but I’ve learned it can be more like returning to a meaningful song or a familiar Scripture. The words grow deeper over time. They sink in. They shape us.
Liturgical prayer didn’t replace personal prayer for me. It strengthened it. On days I don’t know what to say, the prayers carry me. On days I have a lot to say, they ground me in Scripture and remind me who God is first.
Lent is coming, and as believers it is simply a season of making more space for God. Liturgical prayer is one gentle way to do that. Just be present and trust that God may meet you in the same words He has used to meet countless others.
I’m grateful we’re a church where we can grow, learn, and try things together. If you’re curious, maybe just try it and notice what God does with that space.
With love,
Holly
