We had a leaky faucet the other day–drops of water dripping into the sink, “plink…plink…plink.” It was an annoyance. I put a container under the faucet to catch the water as it came out. It wasn’t a large container, but it filled up and had to be emptied, before it could overflow. It seemed such a waste; each drop just dribbling away to no good purpose.
Sometimes, I feel like my prayers must be like those drips from the faucet; that they are just drops in a huge ocean of prayers and requests being poured out by people all over the planet. But that is not true. According to the Bible, God experiences our prayers as an aroma, like incense, rising up to Heaven, where He breathes them in. (See Psalm 141:2 and Revelation 5:8, among others.)
My prayers may feel small and insignificant, but they blend with the prayers of others into an intoxicating aroma of praise, worship, dependence, submission, obedience, sacrifice, awe, reverence, reflection, repentance, joy, and even grieving tears. My prayers are part of something magnificent and mysterious. So are yours!
To pray is to offer ourselves to God– our thoughts and emotions, our time, our gratitude, our honesty, our humility, and our joy.
Just think of the power of a majestic waterfall, or the might of the ocean waves– all made up of tiny individuals drops of water. Water can turn turbines to produce electricity; water can carve canyons our of rock; and water can change landscapes or reshape landforms. And there is power in the volume of water, or of prayer. But there is also the mighty power of the Holy Spirit inhabiting our individual prayers. Each single “drop in the bucket” holds amazing worth and power in God’s hands.
So don’t turn off the spigot of prayer today. Let each drip and drabble do a mighty work!
There is a zoo, about an hour from my house, where you can climb up on a platform at certain times of the day, and feed giraffes. Since giraffes are not native to the American Midwest, this is probably the closest I ever have come, or ever will come, to a live giraffe, and I have enjoyed the opportunity to interact with this unique member of God’s creation.
Giraffes are grazers, but their unique bodies are not best designed for munching on grass or other low-lying plants. Instead, their focus is on the tops of trees and tall bushes. For me to feed a giraffe, I need to be at the level of the tree branches. And it changes my perspective. I’m no longer paying attention to ants and blades of grass. I can see landscapes and clouds for miles stretching out around me. Not a bad view at all!
Yet giraffes are still grounded–they do not soar like eagles, above all the clouds and unattached to the earth. Giraffes must still be on guard and prepared to flee danger from predators or grass fires. But their unique height and perspective give them a better view to see the danger from far off, and act accordingly.
Sometimes, I think we are called to pray with a giraffe’s perspective–to look up and out and pray from the treetops–a little closer to God and leaving behind the small things of the world. Lofty prayers of gratitude and praise; prayers that recognize that there is a big world of wonder all around us. Prayers that look ahead and can see trouble on the horizon; to seek God’s face early and prepare for hard times ahead.
This doesn’t mean that we will always be in a place to pray treetop prayers. Sometimes, we need to pray from the depths. There are days when we cannot lift our eyes without help from the very God to whom we pray. But we are called to walk THROUGH the valleys, not to stay in them! We should feel confident that God will still hear us, no matter where we may be. But the Bible reminds us often that we should look up, ascend, raise our eyes, and change our perspective.
I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. Psalm 121: 1-2 (ESV)
Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one and calls forth each of them by name. Isaiah 40:26
Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is… Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. Colossians 3: 1-2
But as for me, I watch in hope for the Lord, I wait for God my Savior; my God will hear me.Micah 7:7
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. 2 Corinthians 4:18
“Surely then you will find delight in the Almighty and will lift up your face to God.”Job 22:26
“But you, Lord, are a shield around me, my glory, the One who lifts my head high.” Psalm 3:3
I plan to take some time today for treetop prayer. Will you?
During Jesus’ ministry on earth, there were many discussions about who he was, who he said he was, and who others said he was. The Bible is full of the names of God, of Jesus, and of the Holy Spirit– there are descriptive names, prophetic names, genealogical references, allegorical names, sacred names…but one of the pivotal questions Jesus asked of his followers was this: “Who do YOU say that I am”? (Luke 9:18-27; Matt. 16: 13-18)
We can ask ourselves why Jesus might pose this question to the disciples– was it some Socratic technique, or a trick question? The disciples had heard several theories, descriptions, and names tossed about. Was Jesus trying to determine how effectively he had presented himself to the Jewish people– and to his closest followers? I don’t think so. If that were his motivation, he could have asked, “Who to you THINK I am?”, or “Who WOULD you say that I am?” Instead, he asked “Who DO YOU SAY that I am?”
This is still a very relevant question today, and not just as a matter of recognizing him as Messiah. Even when Peter gave an answer, Jesus did not say, “Good job, Peter. You nailed it in one! That’s the right answer, and your prize is that you will become “The Rock” on which I build my church.” That’s how some people might read it, but that’s not the true story– Peter gave a correct answer, an inspired answer, but it was not a definitive answer. Peter recognized who Jesus was supposed to be, but he had not experienced, and did not know, the fullness of who Jesus was. Peter would later go on to deny this same Jesus, and say that he did not even know him at all! Only after Jesus’ resurrection and ascension did Peter fully recognize and live out the answer he gave earlier. His last years were spent demonstrating in words and deeds that he had truly encountered “the Christ, the Son of the Living God!”
How does this relate to a pursuit of prayer in our own time? What we say about Jesus involves more than just a pat answer. To say, “He is the Christ, the Son of the Living God” is a correct answer, but what does that really mean to us? What does it mean as we live as a witness before others? Is he Christ and Savior, and Messiah to me? When I say he is the “Son of God,” is that just another of his many names to me, or do I understand all the richness of that title? When I review the many names of God, do they resonate with personal meaning? Do I pray to the “God who Sees,” to the “God who Provides,” the “God of my Salvation,” the “Almighty”, and the “God who Hears?” Or am I praying to a “God I studied and know a lot about,” a “God I heard about at Church,” or a “God I hope will hear me?” If I pray “in Jesus’ name,” is that just an affectation? Is it just a formality, or does that name, that person, inhabit my prayers and my life? Am I praying in the name of the “Lion of Judah,” “Emmanuel”, “the Risen Lamb,” or just “a great teacher who talked a lot about love?”
These are not questions meant to trigger doubt about my salvation, but questions designed to challenge my commitment and my faithfulness. I bear the name of Christ–what I think I say about him; what I think I believe about him; what I think others see of him in me– it matters. It is of supreme importance. I need to be sure that I’m not taking for granted that what I know about my savior is the same as Knowing Him, and that what I think I’m saying about him is clear, consistent, and true.
What do my prayers say about Jesus? What do my actions say about him? What does my life say about him? Hopefully, like Peter, the end of my story will bring honor and bear truthful witness to the Great “I AM” of scripture, the God of MY salvation, and the God who has heard me, loved me, corrected me, redeemed me, sanctified me, and welcomed me home to be with Him eternally!
We are entering the season of Lent. It is supposed to be a season of reflection, repentance, confession, and preparation. Some people refer to it as a spring cleaning of the soul. It is a time when many give things up or abstain from things– certain habits or routines, certain foods or activities. This can be a good practice for many reasons– it teaches us discipline and patience; it reminds us of all that Christ gave up for us; it turns our focus from common earthly things to spiritual matters; and it frees us from habits and routines that have not only pulled us away from God, but away from each other.
I grew up with very mixed, and mostly negative, feelings about Lent. Neither my family nor my church celebrated Lent. Many of my friends did, and their stories did very little to change my views. I saw the season as drudgery, self-imposed punishment, dreary and legalistic, a cheerless, fruitless, and (mostly) meatless way of counting down to Easter. No one seemed to “celebrate” it– it was more like they endured it. My views have since changed, but I don’t think they were all that uncommon, and I think I was missing something of great value, something I would like to explore.
There are three important elements of Lent that I have struggled with, and I would like to share what I’ve learned.
There is great value in sober, somber reflection. Our world is constantly calling us to revelry, happiness, entertainment, activity, and superficial comfort. We see weakness in mourning for, and admitting to, our sins. We judge those who are serious and sober as “stodgy”, “boring”, and “prosy”. We feel awkward in stillness and silent self-examination. But the Bible paints a very different picture. And the practices of fasting, confession, and meditation, practiced across a spectrum of religions, have been shown to promote better physical, mental, and emotional health, as well as spiritual well-being.
Because we don’t value Godly sorrow– we sometimes substitute other practices that make a mockery of what Lent should be about. I know I am not perfect, but I don’t want to feel that emptiness, that bankruptcy of spirit, that comes with honest confession and repentance. In fact, I sometimes “glamorize” what is really petty. I justify my bitterness, I excuse my selfishness, I “confide” my dislikes and judgmental thoughts about others. And I bring these sins before God, not in sorrow and humility, but in scandal, as though he will be shocked or even entertained by my wayward behavior
Which brings me to the third thing–cheap grace. I spend a lot of time talking about Christian living– about the value of prayer, and confession being good for the soul. I talk about being forgiven, and loving God, and wanting to serve him better. But I have fallen into the very bad habit of seeing God as Ward Cleaver, or Ozzie Nelson– lovable and authoritative, but not Sovereign or supremely Holy –“There, there, child. That’s all right. You’ve confessed, and you’ve learned your lesson. We’ll just forget that ever happened.” Lent should lead us to dependence on God’s amazing grace. It is the work of Christ in us– and only that– that saves, renews, and empowers us. There is a danger in our culture that we cheapen grace by making the focus on what we know, or say about Christianity, rather than what God does through us. Cheap grace leads to cheap talk–in my daily life, and in my prayer life.
This year for Lent, I’m not going to talk about giving up fast food, or Facebook, or shopping at my favorite store. I’m not going to set a checklist or a target for random acts of kindness or giving alms. I’m not even going to set a schedule for extra prayers or a list of special prayers just for this season. There’s nothing wrong with any of those; in fact, if you’re thinking of doing any of the above (or all of the above), I encourage you to do it with all my heart. My prayer for the next forty days will be to invite God to clean out the pretense and hand-wringing, sweep away the cobwebs of analyzing and making excuses, and empty my heart of pride, self-sufficiency, and false guilt, so that he can fill it again with love for him and for others. Love that is more than cheap talk. Love that pours out life and renewal– just as Christ poured out his blood on Good Friday, poured out glory on Easter morning, and poured out power at Pentecost. Not because it was part of a 40-day program of renewal, but because it could not be contained.
My husband and I spent last week suffering from the flu. We slept– a lot! And we woke up at odd times, day and night, with coughing fits, getting medication, etc., only to fall back to sleep in minutes. One such time, I woke up and looked at the bedside clock– 4:13 a.m.
But the numbers stood out to me, not as a reminder that it was the early part of a new day, but as a reminder of a Bible verse– Philippians 4:13: “I can do all things through Christ, which strengtheneth me”(KJV).
Growing up, we attended a small country church, and every summer, I attended Vacation Bible School, where we got points and prizes for memorizing certain verses. I also joined my mother in participating in a Bible memorization program sponsored by our church. We memorized entire passages and chapters, as well as several key verses, like the one above. I say all this, not to brag about myself, my mother, or our church, but to testify to the power of memorizing scripture– especially when one is young. It’s been nearly 50 years since we did the program, and I don’t remember all the verses we studied. But often, in moments when I’m not even thinking clearly, those sacred words are still stored away in my heart and mind. Something as simple as a clock’s numerals can unlock the truth of scripture. I was certainly not rehearsing Scripture’s promises as I woke up nauseous and achy, but three numbers were enough to give me a lifeline of hope!
Did I feel as though I could “do all things” at 4:13 in the morning as I fled to the bathroom? Not a bit. But I took great comfort in the remembering that I can do all things “through Christ, who gives me strength (NIV)” I can trust HIM for healing, and that He will be present even when– especially when– I have no strength of my own.
Later in the day, reflecting on the way that just a few numbers can redirect my thoughts to God’s promises, I remembered other “timely” hints. I’ll leave just a few here below:
1:03– 2 Peter 1:3 “His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness.”
1:09– Joshua 1:9 “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”
3:23– Lamentations 3:23 “They (Your mercies/Your compassions) are new every morning’.; Great is your faithfulness.”
4:18–Proverbs 4:18 “The path of the righteous is like the morning sun, shining ever brighter till the full light of day.”
4:19– 1 John 4:19 “We love because He first loved us.”
5:25– Galatians 5:25 “Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.”
6:33– Matthew 6:33 “But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”
8:28–Romans 8:28 “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”
9:25– Luke 9:25 “What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, and yet lose or forfeit their very self?”
10:10– John 10:10 “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life and have it to the full.”
11:01– Hebrews 11:1 “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.”
11:25– John 11:25 “Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die”
12:12– Romans 12:12 “Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.”
I normally use this space to discuss prayer; today, I am asking for prayer.
My husband and I have been ill with the flu for nearly a week now, and, while it could be so much worse (David was in the hospital for a little over a day with breathing issues), we want to be healthy and active again.
God has been so good to us. We are stocked up on chicken soup, orange juice, and cold/flu capsules. And we have friends and family who are always ready to help. The fact that David’s stay in the hospital was only a day is already an answer to prayer. But he has lost an entire week of work, and he is still very weak.
Part of pursuing prayer is just putting it into practice each day, so as you pray today, please say a quick word for David and I.
“They sow the wind, and reap the whirlwind…” Hosea 8:7
Hosea was a prophet who foretold the destruction (and eventual restoration) of his people. God was pouring out his judgment against an unfaithful nation, and he used the tragic family life of Hosea as a living example of his dealings with Israel. Hosea married a prostitute; an unfaithful and unloving spouse who chased after men with ready money and cheap gifts. But when her activities resulted in slavery, shame, and despair, Hosea redeemed her and restored her as his wife. In the same way, God had made a promise to the people of Israel, but they had broken their covenant and followed their own rules, chasing after the surrounding cultures, with their foreign gods and their hedonistic rituals, including human sacrifice, temple prostitutes, and divination. There are many metaphors used throughout this book, but one that often stands out is the short phrase found in chapter eight. In it, God is talking about the unfaithful priests and leaders of Israel, who have not only betrayed God in their rebellion and idolatry, but have led others astray. God says of them that they have sown the wind, and are reaping/will reap the whirlwind.
How does this relate to us today in our pursuit of prayer?
I believe that many of us are sowing the wind– we do it in our careless words, gossip, rumor-mongering, complaining, babbling, prattling, and yes, in our half-hearted obedience, and our tepid prayers. We often come to God, not eager to commune with him, or to hear his voice, not in humble adoration and open confession, but to complain, wheedle, and boast. We pay lip service to his Holiness, while refusing to give up that bad habit that “isn’t really all that bad.” We thank him for his Grace, but harbor resentment against a neighbor or family member who slighted us. We ask for him to bring us success in our plans and ventures without really making sure if they line up with his will. We excuse our lack of attendance at church, and our failure to spend time in God’s word. We make rash promises to do “better” if God just gets us through this week. We ask for his blessing, and thank him for the riches he has bestowed on us, but we turn our noses at those in our backyard who are in need. We are bold about posting “Christian” sayings on Facebook, X, Pinterest, and Instagram–almost as bold as posting about our favorite new Brew Pub or Spa trip or “almost inappropriate” joke, or latest political rant. Except that our “Christian” posts are less entertaining and more critical of others. (They’re usually really pretty, though– pictures of flowers or mountain streams or desert sunsets–it’s really easy to “like” and “share” a sunset!.) We cheapen the Gospel, we cheapen the Christian walk, we cheapen prayer, when we pursue it as a hobby or a social habit. Bur prayer is not something we do only because (or only when) it makes us feel “good” or “better”– it is something we pursue because it brings us life and peace for eternity, and it brings glory and joy to the King of Kings.
“They sow the wind, and reap the whirlwind…” There is a price for this shallow, careless pursuit of something that looks and feels vaguely like Godliness. It is the whirlwind…being tossed about by “every wind of doctrine” as Paul warns against in Ephesians 4. It is being caught up in doubts and half-truths, compromises, hypocrisy, division, scandal, and shame. It is having to face the onslaught of detractors and persecution that come as a result of so many of us abusing and misrepresenting the very Gospel of the one whose name we carry. “Oh, what peace we often forfeit; Oh, what needless pain we bear; All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer.” The words of that old hymn are no less true today– when we trifle with prayer, carrying only our selfish needs, our petty complaints, and our flimsy agendas to God in prayer, we pay a huge price.
There is another metaphor, this one in the Gospel of John, that I think helps us combat this tendency to “sow the wind”– Jesus says of himself in John 15 that he is the vine, and we are the branches. If we are faithful, we remain in him– we draw our life and strength from him– and we are fruitful. Remaining in him, we are grounded– he provides the roots that keep us from blowing every which way. And he provides the nourishment, and strength to grow and produce more fruit.
I say “we” because I too am guilty of having sown the wind. The great news, in Hosea and in the Gospel of John, is that God is eager to restore us– to graft us in–to welcome us home after our storm-tossed wanderings. Let’s get serious about abiding in God, instead of scattering the latest “feel-good” religious spam. God, forgive me for the times I have cheapened your precious gift of prayer. Help me to abide in you, and refrain from careless words to you, about you, and about others.
This cute meme has been making the rounds on Facebook and Pinterest a couple of years ago. It suggests that prayer turns meek kittens into mighty lions. And it can. Most times it should. But how often do we experience this level of transformation when we pray?
I write this blog, partly in response to comments I’ve heard or read that belittle the effectiveness and the power of prayer. I talk a good game when it comes to prayer–I pray daily, I keep a prayer journal, I consider myself a prayer veteran, even a prayer warrior. I believe in the transformative power of prayer. So why do I often feel like a kitten both before and after prayer?
I’m afraid that, too often, I really don’t want to be transformed when I pray. I want to be heard; I want to be comforted; I want to be refreshed. But I don’t really want transformation. Transformation is not cute or comfortable–it hurts, it stretches. Transformation requires risk and commitment in the face of uncertainty. I want to be a kitten who thinks of herself as a lioness, but I want a cozy lap to rest on, and a bowl of gourmet cat food laid out for me. Kittens may wrestle with yarn or mice; lionesses wrestle with crocodiles and wildebeests. I want to lift up those in pain, those who struggle, those in need– but I want to do it from the comfort of my own quiet corner.
If my prayer life isn’t causing changes in every other aspect of my life, I need to be concerned. Prayer that never calls me into battle; prayer that leaves me feeling comfortable while others suffer..that isn’t really prayer. That is giving lip service without heart-service.
But I also need to be careful to be transformed by the renewing of my mind (See Romans 12: 1-3). Prayer should be transforming my heart and mind, but in Christ’s likeness. Christ, who is not only the Lion of Judah, but the Lamb of God. There are times when I should charge out of the prayer room, energized and ready for battle. But it must come from God’s spirit, and not my own pride or in conformity to the world’s pattern of fighting. Transformation doesn’t come about just because I say any prayer– it comes about as I walk and talk with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. I don’t have the power to transform myself, nor do I have the power to decide the nature and speed of my journey.
I think sometimes, I see it as all or nothing– either I am running full speed ahead and making great conquests (Lioness), or I am mewling and helpless (Kitten). But God sees the bigger picture. Sometimes, we should enter the prayer room as kittens and leave like lions; other times we should enter as lions and leave as lambs– recognizing that our own roaring will never win the battle, and also recognizing that sometimes, in quiet obedience and sacrifice, we are doing what is necessary in the larger plan. What should never happen is that we go running into the prayer room eager and ready to serve, and come sauntering or swaggering out, puffed up with our own importance, but unmoved toward others.
So the challenge is to go into the prayer room, expecting to be transformed– by God, for God’s glory, into the people God wants us to be– expecting to be changed, stretched and challenged.
I call this blog “Pursuing Prayer.” I believe prayer is a pursuit; a discipline that one can learn from, grow into, and practice faithfully in life. But prayer is also a sacrifice. It involves giving of time, space, and honest reflection.
Sometimes, prayer is a willing and joyful sacrifice. I want to come and spend time with My Father in praise and worship, adoration, and even asking for His guidance and wisdom. But sometimes, the sacrifice is hard. I may dread coming to God when I know I have been dishonest or unfaithful. Like any relationship, I cherish the easy times, the relaxing times, and the expectations of challenges met and conquered. I don’t look forward to the hard work, the waiting, or the corrections that God may have for me.
One type of sacrifice that doesn’t belong in the prayer of a believer is the Sin sacrifice. As described in the Old Testament books, the sin sacrifice had to be given to cover over the sins of individuals, priests and even the entire nation. The Israelites even had to give a sin offering for unintentional or accidental sins!
Unfortunately, I sometimes make the mistake of thinking that I must make a similar “sin sacrifice” in my prayer life– that I have to rehearse and recount all my past sins before God will hear me or act on my behalf. And that is NOT Biblical. If we are truly trusting in Jesus’ finished work on the cross, we are not obligated to offer token sacrifices as a means of covering over our past. Christ’s blood IS sufficient! (See 1 John 2:2, 2 Corinthians 5:21,1 Peter 2:24, and Romans 5:9 among others)
So when I talk about prayer of confession, I’m not talking about pouring out long laundry lists of sins I committed last week or thirty years ago. God already knows– in fact He knew about them before they happened!–and He has already forgiven me. That doesn’t mean that He wants me to pretend they never happened or that He doesn’t want me to feel the regret or understand the consequences of what I have done. Instead, He wants me to understand and rejoice in His overwhelming Mercy and Grace! My sacrifice, when I confess my sins, is a sacrifice of praise for God’s willingness to offer what I can never earn or deserve or atone for– complete forgiveness and restoration! I am agreeing with God about who I am and what I’ve done, AND about what He has done for me!
There are other times when prayer can be a difficult sacrifice. Sometimes, I am compelled to pray for those who have hurt me, or those whose actions have hurt others. I am commanded to pray for leaders– that may include church leaders who have sinned, or national leaders who have broken their promises or caused great damage. I am commanded to love my enemies, even if they never repent for things they have done.
Once again, I should be reminded of the sufficiency of Christ’s sacrifice for our sins. He didn’t just die for my Sin; He died for the sins that were committed against me. I may still feel the pain and consequences of that Sin for as long as I live on this earth. But I can trust and be confident that God has dealt with it. And that causes me to rejoice, because I can’t turn back time; I can’t undo the bad things that have happened; I can’t create perfect justice to punish my enemy. But I can let go of the burden of trying to make things “as they should be.” God will do it; He has promised! I can stop wallowing in the “what ifs” or the “what-could-have-beens;” the endless “whys” and “why me’s” that take up so much of my time and focus. Instead, I can leave them as a sacrifice on the altar of prayer, pledging my trust in the Almighty to heal and help me forgive as I have been forgiven.
We don’t practice the old animal sacrifices of the Old Testament. And we don’t have to! But sacrifice is more than just bleeding sheep and burning incense. Sacrifice is offering all of who we are to the One who created us, sustains us, forgives us, and gives us abundant life!
When I first felt the urge to blog about prayer and prayer life, I held off a bit. I think prayer is many things– important, impactful, practical, personal, holy, and humbling. I finally decided to start writing, not because I am an expert on prayer, or that I have mastered the practice, but because I feel passionate about growing in my prayer and praying with more knowledge, focus, and impact. Seven years and over 900 posts later, I still feel the same. I’m sharing in the hope that you will be encouraged, challenged, and equipped to do the same. I want to explore the many aspects of prayer and learn all that it can be. But one thing prayer should never be is a bludgeon.
I find it embarrassing to be in the company of certain fellow Christians when I hear them try to stop a discussion or argument with the phrase, “I’ll pray for you.” There are many times and ways one can say this phrase in love and mean it as a sincere gesture, but sometimes it is as condescending and insincere as a Southern, “well, bless your little pea-pickin’ heart.” They want a type of “mic-drop” moment; an argument-ending, argument-winning phrase, and this is what comes out.
“I’ll pray for you”, in this context, suggests that you (and only you) have a problem. I don’t need to listen to, reconsider, or even try to understand your argument, because I have already determined that you have no valid point, and I have no obligation to hear you out. I know I’m right and you are not.
But more than that, it suggests two horrible things about prayer that are untrue and misleading. First, it suggests that my only interest in praying for you is to “fix” you. In other words, I can’t convince you to see things my way, so I will reluctantly spend some of my precious time praying that you see things my way. I won’t listen to you, try to understand you, or give you any of my respect, but I will do my best to bring your bad behavior and/or faulty beliefs to God’s attention (in contrast to my.own). Prayer should never be a threat, or a weapon to be used against another person. Nor should it be a boast about one’s self-righteousness or moral superiority.
Secondly, this way of saying, “I’ll pray for you” suggests that prayer is leverage; that I have God on some kind of leash. I pray when things aren’t going my way, and God “fixes” them–including people who don’t share my theology or doctrine or worship preference. Anyone who prays with this mindset is not really praying, and God will not be impressed or coerced into doing anything that goes against His will– no matter how “righteous” I may believe it to be.
One of the dangers of writing and talking about prayer in a public forum is the risk of seeming to or actually to impose personal preferences, practices, and beliefs on others. I hope to suggest many prayer thoughts and practices that I find true, helpful, challenging, or even dangerous, but I don’t want to insist that there is only one way to think about prayer or to practice it. Prayer is our way of communicating with our creator. He didn’t make us all the same; we don’t all like the same things, we don’t all interact the same way; we don’t have the same talents, passions, or responses to the world around us. The one constant in prayer is God. What I believe about God will determine how I pray, why I pray, maybe even when or how often I pray. But it won’t determine God’s character or his actions toward another person. I cannot make God make you do anything. I cannot use God as some kind of enforcer or hypnotist or brain-washer– nor should I wish to. Because that’s not how God works, either. He desires that everyone come to Him willingly. He invites us into relationship with Him, not abject humiliation and mindless submission.
I do pray for people who dislike or despise me, who dishonor or deny God. I pray for their health, their safety, and their redemption. I pray for family and close friends and complete strangers. But I should do so knowing that God cherishes each person–gave his life for each one. God is not a bully, even though he has been characterized as such by some. God wants us to pray for everyone–not with pride or bitterness or an agenda, but with his compassion, grace, and love.
Pursuing Prayer 