Ritual in Reverse

Over a decade ago, I began observing a simple spiritual ritual in my car. When I shift the automatic transmission into reverse to back out of my driveway in the morning, I automatically begin singing the doxology. If someone is riding with me, I opt not to sing - this is a private praise practice.

The hymn “Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow” has been etched into my memory since childhood. The Baptist church where I was baptized - the same church where my mother was baptized - included the singing of this doxology during worship every Sunday morning. As I child, I thought the phrase “Holy Ghost” was quite mysterious, and I wasn’t really sure what the “heavenly hosts” were, but I relished adding my voice to congregational singing.

I was well into adulthood before I realized that the song I called “The Doxology” - Hymn #514 in the Baptist Hymnal found in the pew racks of my childhood church - was actually one of many doxologies. During my tenure as associate pastor in a Baptist church, I learned two other versions of these brief hymns of praise to God, since that congregation incorporated three doxologies in their worship rotation.

The driveway I navigate these days requires a bit more skill to exit than the one where I began this spiritual practice, but shifting into reverse remains my prompt to praise. Once the car is in drive and I am safely on my way down the mountain, the doxology flows freely from my lips, albeit with several personal editorial changes: “Praise God, from whom all blessings flow. Praise God, all creatures here below. Praise God above, ye heavenly hosts. Praise Creator, Christ, and Holy Ghost.”

When I recently realized this ritual had become so ingrained that I was no longer thinking about what the words meant as I sang, I decided to slow myself down. Now after I sing the phrase “Praise God, from whom all blessings flow,” I name aloud specific blessings from God. Often, I include the mountains that dominate my view, the goldfinches that swoop over my car, or the colorful coneflowers growing in my neighbor’s yard.

After I sing “Praise God, all creatures here below,” I name creatures that bless me. In my reckoning, the category of creatures includes humans and animals, so I frequently name my grandchildren and my cats. Depending upon my destination, I may name the people I will soon be encountering - like the residents of the Recovery Living Ministry at Costello House or the ladies in custody at the Western Correctional Center for Women.

When I sing “Praise God above, ye heavenly hosts,” I allow myself to think expansively. I still don’t know exactly what the hymn writer meant by heavenly hosts, although the imagery of a celestial army was likely intended. Since that idea does not resonate with me, I choose to name aloud loved ones who have died, people who continue to accompany me in mysterious ways. I name my mother and my sister and all four of my grandparents. I usually add celestial objects to my litany - the moon, planets, and constellations: “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of God’s hands” (Psalm 19:1).

Singing the doxology on daily basis has proved to be a fruitful spiritual practice for me. The words ground me, reminding me of the Source of all blessings, reconnecting me to my spiritual roots. These sung words of praise, accompanied by my spoken additions, help me to cultivate an attitude of gratitude. Singing the doxology reorients my heart and mind, renewing a “right” spirit within me.

Do you have a simple daily spiritual practice that is sustaining you?