Prayers in the Pendulum

I’m late in posting an entry today– it’s been a day of swinging in the pendulum. Not in a personal sense, but in praying for friends and family.

We all have “pendulum” days (or weeks, or even hours)– times where we are carried, pushed, swung, or banged about by life’s circumstances. Moments where time stands still– sometimes in astonishing joy, and sometimes in soul–stomping grief. Then comes the rush of being pulled by forces beyond our control– up, and down, across, and through the arc. I’ve been hearing from friends all day, sharing those moments, and asking for prayer. In the space of an hour, I’ve prayed for those who have just lost loved ones– a mother, a sister, a son– and those who are celebrating– an engagement, a birthday, a new home. I’ve prayed for those whose lives are in the balance– in ICUs and in the womb. Cancer, anniversaries, new puppies, pneumonia, a new job, a vacation, a car accident…

When we pray for others, we share those joys and heartaches– together, we swing through the arc of tragedy and triumph, even if we don’t all feel the full impact. We become like the balls on the pendulum swing; absorbing and sharing laughter and tears not fully our own. But by doing so, we provide both energy and equilibrium. Shared joys are multiplied; shared pain becomes bearable. Prayer breaks through the isolation or the intensity of the moment, and keeps us grounded, or keeps us from shattering. It reminds us that even in these defining and refining moments, life is not static. And the momentum pulses through us in our connectedness.

Yet prayer goes one step further– it brings triumph and tragedy to the God who is above, beyond, around, and amidst the circumstances, the chaos, and the emotional highs and lows. Our voices, raised together in laughter or grief, exasperation or anticipation, ascend to the one who came and lived and laughed and cried among us– to Jesus, whose arms are fully extended to embrace us wherever we are on the pendulum.

March 18, 2018 0

Paltry Prayer

A couple of days ago, I wrote about “Little Prayers.” I believe God hears our prayers about the so-called “little things.” But I think there is a type of prayer that is not “little”, but “paltry.” What’s the difference? “Paltry” doesn’t just imply little or trivial, it connotes something meager and petty. And I think we waste a lot of time on it.

Paltry prayer is generic and insubstantial. It’s like the horrible small talk at a social event one doesn’t want to attend, but feels obligated to show up at, because it’s expected. When we throw up a prayer, but we really don’t want to get “real” before God, we’re offering crumbs instead of a sacrifice; face-time, instead of intimate conversation.

There are times when we cry out in desperation; we have no words or fleshed-out thoughts, only groans. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the times when we want to reassure ourselves that we’re one of the good guys– that our plans and wishes have God’s stamp of approval–without actually risking God’s authoritative answer. “God, help me to do your will today,” sounds like a great prayer, but do we really mean what we’re saying? Or are we really asking God to approve of our own will and plans as we go through the day?

I’m especially concerned that we are offering paltry prayers in regards to evangelism and revival. We want it to come– we want God to send a fresh wave of revival to our communities, our country, and our world– but let it begin and end without making us too uncomfortable, too aware of our own need for confession, forgiveness, or change. We want our neighbor to be saved– without the pain of witnessing and being laughed at or ostracized. We want to be emboldened to witness, but we don’t want to be humbled into listening. We want to be blessed; we don’t want to be tested.

I get very discouraged sometimes, when I realize that my own prayers have been paltry. But there is good news– the same loving Father that wants deeper conversation with me is endlessly forgiving, encouraging, and loving. And I am not alone in offering meager conversation or selfish complaints before His throne.

Jonah (yes the “Big Fish” guy of the Bible) was a prophet– a very successful one, except for the episode with Nineveh. Not only did Jonah run as far from Nineveh as a ship could take him; he basically committed suicide to avoid doing God’s bidding. When his shipmates are in a panic, Jonah demands that they throw him in the sea. This is not as a result of consulting with God, nor does the Bible suggest that it is at God’s command. The sailors continue to panic at the thought of throwing Jonah overboard, and are astonished when the storm stops as Jonah sinks toward the ocean floor. If not for the fish, Jonah would have drowned. God sent the fish to save Jonah, but there is nothing to suggest that Jonah had any idea of being rescued. However, from the belly of the fish, Jonah lifts up a poetic prayer, in which he sings the praises of the God who spared his life. He marvels at his rescue and restoration, and vows to go back to Nineveh and fulfill his destiny. His prayer strikes all the “holy” notes one would wish to see, but I would contend that this is, at its heart, a paltry prayer– sincere in the moment, but not the prayer of a man fully transformed by his near-death experience.

Fast forward to the fourth chapter of the book of Jonah. Nineveh has heard Jonah’s message about God’s wrath and impending judgment; the people have had a miraculous change of heart, and God has agreed to spare them from destruction (for a time– the Ninevites went back to their old habits and were eventually destroyed). Imagine if the late Billy Graham had held a rally in Moscow or Tehran or Los Angeles and the ENTIRE CITY had repented?! This is success beyond imagination. But we don’t find Jonah grateful and poetic as he was at the end of chapter two– instead, he is hateful and bitter, and praying for death! God causes a small vine to grow and provide some shade for Jonah as he sits and sulks, but then he sends a worm to chew up the vine so it withers. Jonah is more heartbroken at the loss of the vine then he was over the possibility of the destruction of an entire city. Jonah’s story doesn’t end in triumph, but in triviality.

Prayer is a great opportunity to pour out our hearts before God– but it also reveals the content and character of our hearts. If our prayers are paltry and our hearts shallow, God will often humble us. But he will also rescue us from our own sinfulness and sulking, and give us all that we need to finish victoriously. The book of Jonah is a great cautionary tale– let’s learn from it, today.

What can we do to make our prayers less “paltry” and more proactive? Check out the suggestions on the attached pages of this blog, or look online for prayer groups and prayer sites that offer constructive ideas.

March 16, 2018 3

Making Waves

Yesterday, students across the nation walked out of class to protest the school shooting that took place a month ago in Florida. Many have hailed this as the beginning of a new movement; others have decried it as a stunt. I’m not here to debate the merits of this particular action or even what it may or may not represent. What I do want to look at is how and why groups are using various methods to “make waves” in our world.

What does it mean to “make waves?” According to the online urbandictionary.com, it means: to cause a disturbance, or to create a situation where chaos or controversy will surface

The underlying assumption is that there is a deceptively calm surface that requires a disturbance– that chaos or controversy are already present, and bringing them to the surface is necessary to prevent more tragic results.

If you live near a large lake or the ocean, you may have watched waves in action. Waves can be powerful, and even tragic, in their own right. Storm surge waves and tidal waves have been known to decimate coastal areas; even normal wave action can erode shorelines and pull unwary swimmers under the surface. But waves also serve good purposes– they polish the stones and wash up treasures onto the beaches. They prevent stagnation. They help move small creatures that dwell in the sand and shallow waters.

One thing about waves that sometimes passes unnoticed– waves may change in size or power, but they are constant– rolling in and out unvaried in their rhythm from day to day and year to year. In this sense, no one “makes” waves, except the creator, who started that rhythm and set the boundaries for the lakes and seas. Instead, we attempt to create bigger, more powerful waves, or make waves where none were before– puddles, or swimming pools, perhaps. At some point in our lives, we WILL make waves– but what kind, and to what purpose?

My point is not that we shouldn’t try to be agents of needed change in our world– but we should examine the positive and negative consequences of our wave-making. Are we pushing something to the surface that needs to be seen or discovered? Are we pulling something under the surface to drown it out? Are we eroding a foundation, or carving out a new coastline? Also, are we being consistent in our wave-making? Are we hoping for a single tidal wave of chaos, or a constant churning action that brings lasting change.

Of course, since this blog is about prayer, I would suggest that prayers are also like waves– each one breaking in its turn, but constantly rolling, churning, and moving forward, bringing things, both large and small, to the shore. Prayers have a constant rhythm and a subtle roar that masks their full impact. Prayers, like rolling waters, intermingle, push each other forward, dance, and rise, and fall with the winds and storms of life, and roll back to rise up again.
Not all prayers are like waves– not all waves are like prayer. but shouldn’t we want to make waves in tune with God’s purposes? Waves answer to God– he can both calm them, and stir them into wild fury; walk on them, or hold them back.

I pray that our prayers and our actions would be consistent with God’s rhythm; that we would embrace changes and actions that bring him honor.

March 15, 2018 0

Praying for Peace

A few years ago, I was introduced to a man from South Sudan, who had come to the U.S. for a missions conference. Earlier in the evening, he had shared a report on conditions in his region– all the horrible details you dread hearing–displaced families, homeless refugees, orphaned children, shortages of food, clothing, shelter, blankets, and medicine, constant fear of being attacked by one side or another in the ongoing conflict. Throughout his report, he emphasized the sovereignty of God, and his hope that he and his team could continue to help those most in need. As I got a chance to speak directly to “Robert” *, I told him that I would pray for peace to come to his region. I was shocked when he stopped me. “Please don’t pray for peace,” he told me. “Pray instead that God would give us the resources and the strength to be faithful and to keep helping.”

Then he explained. It wasn’t that he didn’t want peace to come, but he wanted me to pray for whatever God willed for his region. The Kingdom of God, not earthly peace, was his highest priority and his greatest urgency. Because of the circumstances of war, people were desperate. Their world had been turned upside-down, and they were in great need. But war had also opened up opportunities– not only opportunities to help those in need, but opportunities to show the Love of Christ as it had never been known to the people there. The people who were coming to refugee camps were meeting, sometimes for the very first time, people from other villages, other cultures, and other faiths– people they had considered enemies. Suddenly, they were seeing these enemies as fellow sufferers, fellow human beings with the same injuries and losses, needs and longings as themselves. They were also “seeing through” some of the lies they had believed about “the others” in their midst. Their circumstances were desperate, but their biggest need was for hope and help. Help was coming from around the world– United Nations’ agencies, The Red Cross, Doctors Without Borders, and several Christian relief and medical organizations. These groups had been kept out during peacetime and even in the early stages of fighting. Not only were they able to help with immediate relief; they were able to provide medical care for victims of AIDS, and childhood diseases, care that had long been denied. Along with practical help, though, these groups were providing hope– hope to rebuild, hope in the midst of despair and chaos, hope of eternal life and a relationship with God.

“Robert” was not saying that he didn’t long for peace, or that peace would be a bad thing for the people of South Sudan. Of course not. But the greatest need was not for an immediate end to fighting– it was for the kind of peace that only God can bring. As far as I know “Robert” is still working with refugees and displaced families in South Sudan. The work is difficult and often heartbreaking. Resources are stretched, and chaos still haunts the land. But progress is coming– slowly, but surely. Lives are being changed, reclaimed, and renewed. And I pray that he and his team are being strengthened and encouraged even as their circumstances continue to be desperate.

I share this story because I am still learning that Prayer isn’t about what I want or think is best; it isn’t about getting my way, or asking for the easy “fix” or the happy ending. It’s about seeking God’s will, His way, His answer, His timing, and His grace. Suffering, whether we are experiencing it or hearing about it, reminds us that we live in a fallen and dying world. We long for peace. We long for healing. We long for rest and comfort and happiness. But in this world, there will be trouble and injustice, death and disease, pain, suffering, betrayal, and unanswered questions. We don’t understand God’s timing, his plan in allowing innocent people to suffer the cruelties of war or poverty. And if we are living in peace and comfort, it makes us feel guilty and even fearful– why them and not us? When might we face unexpected hardship? So we ask God to remove all the discomforts, the struggles, the pain. It is not wrong to want healing and peace and all the other good things– we should seek justice and mercy and peace and joy. But we also need to recognize that God may choose to bless us in unexpected ways through our hardships and agonies. And he may be calling some of us to take action– to be His hands and feet– to reach out with the resources he has given us to help others. He doesn’t love those others less; he doesn’t love us more– he loves to see us love each other in His name!

God’s ways are not my ways; his timing isn’t the same as mine– it is better. It is perfect. In the end, there will be peace in South Sudan. There will be Peace on Earth. There will be healing and justice, and peace and joy. There will be answers for all the questions, and happy endings. But in the meantime, may God give all of us the strength and resources to help those in need, the faith and discipline to keep going in the midst of chaos, and the wisdom to make peace and spread love wherever and whenever we can.

*Because “Robert” is a Christian worker in an area of intense persecution, his true identity is being protected. Please pray for all those who are risking their lives and livelihoods to live, work, and worship as Christians throughout the world. And be thankful if you live in an area where you risk little or nothing to proclaim the name of Jesus Christ.

March 9, 2018 0

Presumptuous Prayer

The Christian life is often one of paradox–We are “in” the world, but not “of” the world; we “die to the flesh”, even as we continue to breathe and walk and eat in our fleshly bodies. Prayer is part of that paradox– we dare to present ourselves before the throne of Almighty God, yet we are told to call him “Our Father”, and to come boldly. We call on one who is unseen, unknowable, and sovereign, and we’re told to ask for anything in Jesus’ name, and it will be done.

This can lead to problems, as we try to resolve the paradox– sometimes we dare too much; other times, we ask too little. I want to take a peek at how this works, especially as I have a problem with the latter.

Why do I feel it is a presumption to ask God for help? Why do I ask God to do the least that I might expect from Him, when He offers miracles for the asking? Why do I wait to bring my requests to God, hoping that I can solve them myself and not “bother” him? Do I not trust him? Do I not trust him enough? Why do I get discouraged when my prayers are not answered “my way?” Immediately! When hardship comes, why do I assume that it is an accident–a miscarriage of justice–and call out to God as though he is unaware of my dilemma?

I think we come to prayer with a few faulty assumptions about God:

we believe that God doesn’t know– that he is unaware of our needs or our circumstances, , our sense of urgency, or the depth of our despair; that he will be embarrassed by our lack of obedience or the simplicity of our request
we believe that God doesn’t care– we fear that God will be distant, disapproving, or even disdainful; unwilling to help us until we “clean up our act.” Or we believe that he delights in testing us, watching us struggle, withholding help until we are properly humbled and abject in our obedience. Perhaps we believe that “God helps those who help themselves,” and therefore, he is waiting for us to work ourselves to the limit before we bother him with our troubles. We believe that “if God really cared” he would give us what we want, when we want it, and how we want it
we believe that God is unable– that we have messed up so badly, even God can’t fix our mistakes; that what we are asking is stretching God to do what is beyond his plan or purpose; that our request is too broad in its scope for God to attend to it
we believe that God isn’t really GOD–we have doubts about his existence, his reality, his presence, and his power over all our circumstances

We also come with assumptions about ourselves:

we believe that we are unworthy of God’s love, care, time, power, concern, or attention
we believe that we are worthy–worthy of special treatment and privileges denied to others because of who we are or what we’ve done; worthy of a life devoid of pain, stress, hardship, or struggle
we believe that we know better than God how to meet our needs; we believe that we have all the answers, and God’s job is to do our bidding
we believe that coming to God in prayer is a sign of weakness, laziness, or neediness that brands us as “less” than others who live life on “their terms”
we believe that our wants and needs are not important; that our dreams and desires must be squashed in order to serve God

If we assume any (or all) of these things, our prayers will swing wildly from wimpy hand-wringing and grudging worship to impatient demands and selfish complaints.

God knows– he sees everything; he knows your very thoughts before you think them! God cares– he loves each of us with an eternal, limitless love– a perfect love that casts out fear and bids us to draw near to him, but doesn’t spoil us, indulge our selfishness, or set us up for failure.
God is able–just because we don’t see the answer we want in our current situation doesn’t mean that answer isn’t on its way. Look back at the ways God has been faithful in the past–Can’t He Do It!

We are unworthy–in our own power–but we are also cherished by God, who makes us worthy through faith in the finished work of Jesus Christ. Our privilege of coming to and communing with Almighty God is not a presumption in itself– it is a gift given by him in the moment that the veil was torn from top to bottom in the temple– the very moment Christ fulfilled the law, the barriers were removed, and God made it possible to come into his very presence.
We know only in part, and we see only in part– God sees the whole; the end from the beginning. He knows what is best, not only for us, but for all of creation.
When we come to God, it is a sign of submission– not weakness. It is a sign that we recognize God’s right to be God, and our privilege to live and work and commune with him, instead of acting and living in rebellion against him.
Because he knows our every thought, and he loves us completely, he cares about our every need. When we trust in him– in his goodness, his faithfulness, his timing, and his sovereignty, he doesn’t promise us a life without hardship; but he does promise peace that passes all understanding as we go through those hardships.

In the end, our faulty assumptions come from making ourselves too big– taking pride in our own worthiness, strength, and intelligence; or exaggerating our faults, mistakes, and unmet expectations– and making God too small to meet our needs or understand our hearts.

God wants us to presume on his Goodness and Might– not on our own wisdom and worthiness.

March 7, 2018 0

Positioning for Prayer

Bow, kneel, stand; hands folded, hands raised, hands clasped–there are many positions we assume when praying. And different types of prayer seem to have different positions. We tend to say grace seated or standing behind our chair at the table. Some families hold hands; others bow their heads and fold their hands. Some corporate prayers call for kneeling; others are said standing. Some people bow, some kneel on the floor with arms outstretched; some curl up in their favorite easy chair; some face east or toward a certain focal point; some touch or hold an object, like a rosary or a Bible, or the wall or surface of a sacred place. Some pray with eyes closed; others with eyes raised toward Heaven.

Does any of this posturing and positioning really matter? Does God have a preference? A requirement? Does He get offended if I stand, or keep my eyes open or neglect to hold my hands a certain way?

The answer is not as easy as one might think–The Bible has many specific accounts of prayer, as well as many commands and guidelines. Hebrew priests stood with hands raised to pronounce blessing and to seek God’s favor. King David’s psalms are poetic prayers. They don’t often describe a position of standing or kneeling, but many of them imply a position of lying down, pacing, clapping, shouting, climbing, etc. Jesus often prayed alone, and spoke of praying privately– in corners and closets away from prying eyes and listening ears. On the night of the Last Supper and in the Garden of Gethsemane, the Bible describes Jesus as praying while “looking toward Heaven” (John 17:1), and later, “he fell with his face to the ground and prayed.” (Matthew 26: 39)

All this indicates that positions matter in relation to the function or the nature of the prayer. And that’s where I want to focus my thoughts today.

God isn’t displeased if I stand to pray, rather than kneel–unless I am standing in pride and arrogance. He is pleased if I kneel in humble and contrite spirit, but not if I kneel out of false humility or to impress others with my self-righteous posturing. If I bow my head at the table out of habit, and forget who I am supposed to be talking to, or “pretend” to kneel instead of leaving the comfort of my chair– then I may need to take a new position; a new attitude of prayer.

God isn’t impressed with our physical position in prayer– but I believe he wants our whole self, our undivided attention and our physical and emotional expression and attitude. Sometimes, the physical position comes as a natural extension of our grief, our joy, our reverence, and our stillness before His throne. Other times, our physical position brings us out of our pride, our busyness, and prepares our heart attitude.

I have had moments–even days– when I was not naturally motivated to quiet my spirit, bow my head or my heart, and kneel before my Maker. But in kneeling, and bowing my head, and closing my eyes, I was positioning more than just my body. I was coming in obedience to the one– the only one– who can transform my mind, renew my spirit, and soothe my restless heart. Other times, I could not kneel for the joy and exuberance of the moment. Standing on tiptoe, hands raised, head raised, and heart raised, I sang out to my Father in gratitude and awe.

So the answer to the question– Does our position in prayer matter?– would seem to be, “no.” What matters is our attitude. God is not impressed or fooled by an outward show–he is concerned with our heart’s desire to be close to him. There is, however, one position that is pivotal in the pursuit of prayer. That is the position of Faith. In Hebrews, we are told that “without Faith, it is impossible to please God, for whoever comes to him must believe that he exists, and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him..”(Hebrews 11:6) Jesus spoke of faith that can move mountains, even if it is the size of a mustard seed. Whether kneeling or standing, grieving or rejoicing, our prayers must be accompanied by faith– faith that God exists; that he is loving and gracious and all-powerful to save; faith that our “position” in him is one of reconciliation and renewed life through his grace and the finished work of Jesus Christ; faith that he will hear our prayers and answer according to his will; faith that his will is altogether good and perfect– even when we don’t understand it in the here and now.

One final thought–though the Bible does not specifically require that we kneel to pray as we pursue a relationship with him, it does declare that one day, “at the name of Jesus, every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth, and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord…” (Philippians 10-11a). I can practice kneeling in this life, knowing that it won’t go to waste!

February 26, 2018 0

Talk is Cheap– Part II

In my last post, I talked about cheap talk and cheap grace. Today, I want to turn the tables a bit, and talk about the value of talk– specifically prayer and words of encouragement.

Our society has become very fond of visuals– charts, graphs, comparisons, checklists, measurements, etc. We want to see documentation of goals met, incremental achievements, mastery levels, and verified accomplishments.

Prayer doesn’t fit that mold. God doesn’t send us a “receipt” for prayer requests received or answered. There is no contest for the number or quality of prayers listed up to heaven. There is no “success” strategy that guarantees speedier responses or “better” miracles.

I’m writing and thinking about prayer, but I can’t claim to be an expert or proficient, or better able to teach about prayer than anyone else. Still, I think I can speak from experience to the value of pursuing a life of prayer and honest reflection before God. Like most other worthy pursuits, prayer is learned and refined through practice. The more I pray, the more I understand what it is, how it works, and why it is important.

“I shouldn’t just be praying about this, I should be DOING something…” In times of stress, disaster, or crisis, it is tempting to believe that visual, measurable action is what counts. Prayer is for those who cannot or will not take action..it is plan B. But this view cheapens prayer. Prayer should be our first response. Pray for wisdom and guidance before taking action, and you may avoid making frantic and ineffective decisions. Sometimes, our wisest action is to watch God do what we could not imagine; sometimes it is to support and encourage others, instead of pushing through, stepping on toes, or getting in the way. Prayer can teach us more about trusting God; it can give us peace and confidence to act more effectively, and it can open our eyes to the opportunities in the midst of crisis. That doesn’t mean that prayer should become a substitute for action when we have the means and opportunity and motivation to act. But there are times when I think we act out of a sense of false pride or impatience, rather than a prompting of the heart, mind, or spirit.

We are commanded to pray– even to pray continually, constantly– without ceasing. While this (of course) doesn’t mean that our every waking moment should be consumed with prayer to the exclusion of anything else, it means that God values our words, praises, songs, groans, tears, joyful whoops, and other communications with him. This raises a question that I have struggled with in the past. If God is omnipotent, he doesn’t NEED my prayer to bring change, or healing, or success, or protection, or anything else. Yet he wants me to pray– he tells me that if I pray in faith I can ask anything in his Name and he will give it to me. This seems like a paradox, but I believe that God’s command is not about Him. In this case, it is about us. He wants to include us in the work he is doing; in the change and healing he brings (or even withholds). Why– because he is a generous God! He gives us the privilege of being part of the goodness he sends. He wants us to share the power of speaking goodness, peace, forgiveness, and blessing. As we share our hearts and lives with him, he wants to include us in his work. Not all my prayers fall into this category, but what an encouragement to value prayer– especially prayers lifting up our needs to a loving God.

Talk is cheap, action is precious, but prayer is priceless…May I remember the difference!

February 15, 2018 0

Persistent Prayer

I grew up attending a tiny country church numbering only a few families. Church was not just a place to visit for coffee and a sermon on Sunday morning. There were no large screens, no light shows, no bands, no padded theater seats. What we didn’t have in the way of amenities, we made up for with fellowship– pot lucks, church-wide outings, bake sales to raise money for missionaries, and community-wide Christmas caroling every December. We didn’t have a big budget or slick publications. There was no website or gym; no trendy decor in the entryway, or sound system. But there was prayer– lots of it! Prayer to open Sunday School; prayer to open the service; prayer at the end of Sunday service; and Wednesday Evening Prayer Meeting. This was, for the children, an evening of games, singing, stories, and socializing with our friends, all in the church basement (painted cinder block walls, industrial fluorescent lights hanging down from beams to light up folding tables and metal folding chairs on the bare cement floor, which was sometimes home to spiders, toads and even the occasional salamander). But upstairs, it was all business. An hour of adults in the community coming together to pour their hearts out to God.

As I became a teen, I “graduated” to the upstairs–to a young teen it seemed an interminably long and slow process of sharing requests, sharing praises, and taking turns mumbling and rambling and regurgitating all that had come before, this time with eyes closed, and some of the old-timers on their knees instead sitting in the un-padded and creaky wooden pews. Sometimes, there would be two or three hymns or a short devotional to round out the hour-long service.

I know there are churches that still have mid-week (usually Wednesday night) services, and some of them are devoted to corporate prayer (my current church has one, in fact). But most of these services have died out– due, I suspect, to the view I described above. Very few of us are devoted to getting out one night every week to spend an hour kneeling on a hard floor “sharing” needs with others, only to repeat them to God. But I think somewhere we missed the point, and the value, of these gatherings. In going to Prayer Meeting, I got to hear the hearts of three generations of people across our community– farmers, construction workers, teachers, retired grandfathers, teens like me, pastors, recovering alcoholics, homemakers, business men and women–people with wildly different struggles, triumphs, and needs, and in different stages of their Christian walk. I heard the exuberance of new converts, and the steady faith of aging saints; the struggles of the brokenhearted widower, and the needs of new parents.

Perhaps the most valuable lesson from Prayer Meeting was about persistent prayer. Week after week we reported answered prayers, but other requests seemed to linger. Some who desired healing never found it (in this life). Some relationships were never restored. Some faced the same struggles with anger, or job loss, or loneliness over a period of months. Was our prayer ineffective, or our faith deficient? Did God not hear? Didn’t he care?

I believe God heard every word; every groan, every sigh. I believe he ached with every burden we brought before his throne. I believe he was (and is) in the midst of every gathering. And I believe that prayer is often like those conversations we have with our oldest and dearest friends about those same persistent problems. God has the power to deliver us without the struggle, without the wait. We don’t know why he allows some struggles to play out over years while others end in timely triumph. But I believe that for every situation that challenges our faith and endurance, he is there for every tear, every question, every ‘SMH’ moment, every stumbling step forward. And when we come together to share the burden with our neighbors, family, friends in fervent prayer– God is present, not just as the Father on his throne, but as the Son who cried out on his knees in the Garden of Gethsemane, and the Spirit who interprets our groaning when words are not enough.

I say a lot of quick prayers; sometimes urgent, and often simplistic and even easy prayers. I am slowly rediscovering the value of persistent and corporate prayer.

February 8, 2018 1

Prayer is a Pursuit

“Stop sending your thoughts and prayers– they are useless. Get up off your knees and take action, instead.”
I was stunned. People had been reacting on Facebook to a recent tragedy by posting their concerns. Most of them were heartfelt messages sending “thoughts and prayers” to the victims and their families. But they were followed by a backlash of anger and frustration so visceral that I felt sucker-punched. Worst was an entire article that suggested that praying was a futile distraction– an admission of helplessness that actually contributed to inaction, injustice, false hope, and secretly condoned violence and victimization as part of “God’s will.”
As I reeled from what I felt was a sharp and hateful article, I stopped to wonder where that kind of anger and bitterness was coming from. Some of it was obviously a reaction to the tragedy itself– a violent attack resulting in a senseless loss of life. Such events leave us feeling shocked, confused, and helpless– How could this happen? Why? And, often, our questions are directed at God– “Where were you?” “Why did you let this happen?” “Don’t you care?” We may question God’s goodness, his justice, and his very existence. Our prayers may even seem futile– unheard and unanswered.
So why did the article and its suggestions shock and hurt me so deeply? Was it a lurking conviction that the author had a valid point? Am I wasting my time when I pray for those who are grieving and suffering pain and loss? Am I wasting my time praying to a God who seems distant in times of crisis?

Which brought me back to the basics–in this case, what IS prayer?

This blog is an attempt to pursue the many interconnected answers to that question. At its heart, I believe (as do most people of a spiritual bent, regardless of their particular religious tenets) that prayer is an attempt to talk to, to communicate with, God. But what I believe about prayer is dependent on what I believe about God. Does he exist? Really exist? What (if anything) does he expect of me? Blind and slavish fealty? Absolute, if grudging, obedience? Idle/Idol worship? A comfortable, acquaintance, a mutual admiration? A deep and eternal inseparable relationship?
Our prayers will be shaped by our answers to those and other questions– if I believe that God only wants me to recite a canned response every once in awhile, that’s what I will give. If I believe that God wants me in perpetual groveling…you get the idea.

So what do I believe about God and how to communicate with him? First, I believe that Prayer is a pursuit– it is my earnest desire to seek out the God who made me in his image– unique and precious in his sight. I believe he WANTS to hear from me, and he WANTS to answer with revelation of his nature, his character, his heart. Second, I believe that prayer is positive, because God is good. Prayer is not an obligation, though it should be a discipline. Prayer is not merely a ritual, though there are many forms it may take, from formal recitations to wordless groans. Prayer moves us toward God, and toward others around us. It is not static; it is not a vague wish or empty hope.
Third, I believe that prayer is powerful–much more than most of us recognize. Far from being futile and inactive, I find that prayer leads to dramatic changes. I have seen miraculous transformations–in myself, in others, even in the wider world–as a result of prayer. The fact that God doesn’t always give us instant and dramatic answers doesn’t negate those times when he does provide the miracle. And it doesn’t mean that our prayers were unheard, or unanswered. Finally, it doesn’t make God complicit with the evil things that happen– God doesn’t give us cancer or send a flood to punish us for something we did or didn’t do, and he doesn’t keep us in pain or allow us to struggle without reason or remedy.

So, I am starting a quest to share my pursuit– things I have learned, am learning, and hope to or need to learn about this amazing gift called prayer.

February 7, 2018 0

Introduction

This is an experiment–in my own pursuit of a deeper, richer prayer life, I want to share some of the struggles and triumphs I have had in and through prayer. I would also like to share (and gather) suggestions to enrich how we can grow closer to God, closer to others, and closer to becoming more Christlike in our daily walk.