In November of last year I had gone on a first date, and as I often do, I was getting way into my feelings way too quickly (you know, planning my dance feature for the wedding reception, naming the kids, designing the house, etc.). But in an effort to grow as a person, I was determined to channel the energy in a more productive way this time.  

While brainstorming ideas, I thought back to a tweet I'd seen several months earlier from someone either in or adjacent to weird Anglican twitter, which had been "a collect for when chips must be eaten quietly," formatted in the font and style of the Book of Common Prayer, which had delighted me at the time (shoutout to whoever tweeted this! I’ve gone back and tried to find you and the tweet, to no avail, but I appreciate you!). Does God care and want to hear about the silly, embarrassing moments of our lives? Is it meaningful to ask for God's help when we find ourselves in laughably sticky situations? Of course! 

Conveniently, I had just written a collect for my parish’s (St. Philip’s, Harlem) first celebration of the feast of the Rev. Peter Williams, our first rector and the second Black man ordained in the Episcopal church. I enjoyed the experience of a new kind of writing, a new way of praying, and the way in which an exercise of private devotion could then be of service to others in a more public setting.  

So I decided to write a collect “for when one is enamored but must be chill about it:”  

O Unmoved Mover, whose burden is easy and whose yoke is light, we beseech thee now for the chill which so easily eludes us. By the still, small voice of thy Spirit, make us still. By the steadiness of thy hand, calm our restless hearts. By the steadfastness of thy love, make us patient in all manner of romantic captivation, for the right ordering of love toward others which is the mark of the Kingdom of our Lord Jesus Christ, who reigns with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen. 

As playful as it was, it was genuinely efficacious in many respects: helping me to invite God into my romantic life, channeling my thoughts into productive acknowledgments and requests to God rather than letting them run wild, and truly, over time, effecting real spiritual maturation through this unique spiritual discipline. 

I texted the collect to a few friends, mainly just as a humorous peek into my life, and they all thoroughly enjoyed it, so I tweeted it, and folks enjoyed it there as well. So with the private benefits and the public interest as incentives, I decided to commit to writing one collect per day for the foreseeable future. There was a solid stretch of several months where I would post my work daily; prayers for when one is getting trolled on the internet, for when one has been ghosted, for before opening a dating app, and so on.  

The project became a wonderful way to combine contemporary concerns with traditional language and form, and to bring into my ongoing conversation with God various parts of my life that had not previously been represented. The response from Christian twitter quickly grew beyond anything I’d imagined—it was almost as if folks were waiting for this kind of project to be put out into the world. 

Early this year, I was encouraged to start an Instagram account for my work. I resisted at first, thinking that the text-heavy nature wouldn’t translate well to Instagram. Whew, was I wrong! Within a couple of months, through good old word-of-mouth, as well as a couple of big boosts from big names (shoutout to Ekemini Uwan, Erin Moon, Sarah Bessey, Jeff Chu, and Kate Bowler!), followership on Instagram had really taken off. Lovely people would regularly send me affirmations, requests for prayers they’d like me to write, and requests to use my work in various church settings. And a few reported that they’d begun to write prayers of their own, which has been perhaps the most gratifying outcome for me. 

Around that same time, a friend of a close friend of mine reached out to me, saying that she loved my work, worked in publishing, and would love to talk to me about the possibility of publishing my work. She connected me with the wonderful lady who became my agent, and before long we were shopping the book to potential publishers. We received three offers, and signed with Convergent, an imprint of Penguin Random House, in early September. A compilation of my prayers will be released next fall. 

As all of this has been happening, I’ve been overjoyed to see similar public prayer-writing being done (do check out @blackliturgies and @liturgiesforparents, for starters) by other lovely folks who are part of this ressourcement and liturgical renewal movement in the American church (especially its younger generations). With the books that I’m sure they’ll be publishing, there will be a wave of resources coming out soon that will introduce or reintroduce folks to the beauty of common prayer, and I am pumped about that. 

My number one hope is to encourage others to try the spiritual practice of prayer-writing for themselves. Here is a collect “recipe” which has enriched my prayer life and which I commend to you: 

1. Pick a title—what or who the prayer is for. 

2. Begin the prayer with an address to God. 

3. Continue with an attribute or action of God. 

4. Content. 

5. End with a Trinitarian doxology. 

6. If you’re above 120 words or so, see if you can trim it down. 

1. For before walking into Target   

(2) O Jehovah Jireh, (3) who satisfies our souls and makes our hearts content, (4) we beseech thee for a spirit of moderation as we walk into Target. Though the ambience, wide aisles, and $1 section be prone to suck us in, let thy guiding hand keep us on mission. When our carts overflow, help us to separate the wheat from the chaff. When sales and bargains compel us, help us to hear the voice of our bank accounts crying out for mercy. And may this department store remind us of thy provision for every department of our lives, (5) O Father, reigning with our Lord Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.