A few years ago, I published a blog entry called Just a Minute… , which spoke of an effort to get everyone to spend one minute each day praying for their country. I think this is a good idea, and I hope many people are doing it. The world needs more prayer, and more people coming together to pray!
While corporate prayer is a valuable exercise, and setting aside a particular time to pray with others (whether in person or in spirit) is also a great idea, the thought of a short, minute-long prayer seems inadequate, sometimes. I suppose (indeed I hope) that most people spend more than a minute in prayer if they take this challenge. It’s easy to do– there are a LOT of things to pray for!
But it struck me as I reviewed this earlier post that God is above, and beyond, time. A single minute can be as rich and telling of our relationship with him as an entire hour. And scheduling a particular time to pray is beneficial to us, but it is immaterial to our Father. He doesn’t keep “office hours.” There is no need for an “open” sign at the throne of grace– it never closes. God is never unavailable, or “more” available. It only takes a split second for us to recognize his omnipresence, and connect to it.
There is no need for us to wait for Sunday, or a High Holy Day, or a certain hour to pray. And our prayers may only last a few seconds or a minute– “God, I need help!” “Thank you, Jesus!” “God, please help my neighbor today.” There is no need to wait until a crisis or miracle, either. We can pray about things that may seem insignificant to others, but God is honored when we share our thoughts with him first, and throughout the day.
It is wonderful to spend long hours alone with God– when we have the opportunity, and when we have made time to honor him above all. But he is always present. Even in chaos and crisis, we can take a split second to remember the one who calms the storms.
Of course, we can’t literally pray all the time– we need to eat, sleep, work, travel, and talk with other people as we go through our days. But we always have the ability and the access to cry out to God. There is never a time when God is too busy, or we are unable to formulate a prayer in our hearts and minds. Even if we can’t find the words!
This was borne to me again in the last few months of my Mom’s life. As her health deteriorated; as she started to have trouble remembering names and seeing faces, she still remained committed to prayer. She was always eager for information– who was traveling; who was celebrating a birthday; who was in the hospital; who was in the middle of a divorce; who was moving to a new community, or had just moved here from elsewhere? Even if she couldn’t send a greeting card, or attend a wedding or other event, she could pray.
I know several moms and dads whose lives are hectic. They don’t have the luxury of hours to devote to prayer and Bible study. They may have minutes! Their lives are filled with the morning commute, with cleaning up small disasters everywhere, with trying to balance family life and work life. But they can pray– they can pray as they ride the train, or at their desk; they can pray as they sweep up the latest mess, or as they take a precious (and too-short) bathroom break! They can pray with their children, for their children, or surrounded by co-workers. They can pray silent, desperate prayers or short bursts of praise.
I know several others who are in my mom’s situation. They are aging, or ill; they are bedridden and in pain. They can’t get up; they can’t DO the things they would wish to do. They can’t give hugs or write letters or make phone calls to encourage others. Many of them cannot feed themselves or talk. But they can pray! They have the same access to God’s comfort, wisdom, and Love as everyone else. They can pray with groans and thoughts– even scattered and burdened ones.
I know some people who “don’t know how” to pray. They are new to Faith, or they have strayed so far, they just can’t seem to concentrate on what they want to say to God. They are plagued by guilt, shame, or unresolved bitterness. They feel unworthy, or unclean. Yet, they can still pray. They can cry out in lingering doubt and despair– “Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.” (Mark 9:24) They can ask the difficult questions for which only God has the answers– questions about forgiveness, injustice, pain, and grief.
I am fortunate. I have a lot of “down time” at our shop. It’s not a very busy (or very prosperous!) shop. But it offers me the opportunity to pray, and to write about prayer. I have the time to think about prayer– what it means, how it works, why it is so vital. And even after a lifetime of praying, I still get surprised by new opportunities for prayer. The other day, a customer walked in, very upset. She was a stranger to me, but I was prompted to ask if I could just take a minute to pray for her. Suddenly, her heart spilled out. The details are her story, and not for this blog post, but God gave me the opportunity to offer encouragement and hope and (hopefully) wise advice as she has many life-changing decisions to make.
I can continue to pray for her situation today. And I can lift up prayers for family, friends, neighbors, and so many others throughout the day. I can pray for Estonia– a nation I’ve never visited and know very little about, but one that God knows and loves dearly! I can pray for K____, one of our “regulars” who stops by the shop to talk and look around, and occasionally to buy something small that he can afford. I can sing praises for all the many attributes or our Amazing God! I can thank God for His many blessings, including a praying mother! I can seek wisdom for the days ahead, and forgiveness for the sins of the past.
I can pray from my seat behind the counter. I can pray in a booth at the local fast food place, and with my husband at our dinner table. I can pray while I wait in line at the grocery. I can pray as I sort through my Mom’s papers and clothes, or as I clean around the shop or at home. I can pray in bed. And yes, I can even pray in the bathroom! I can pray whether I am happy or sad; whether I am under stress or breezing through the day. I can pray in English or “Spanglish” or with groans or snatches of song. I can pray with my eyes open, with my fingers flying across the keys of my computer, or as I walk to the post office.
Children can pray; prison inmates can pray; patients in hospitals can pray; soldiers and construction workers and chefs can all pray. Sewer workers and surgeons, clowns and corporate CEOs, gardeners and guards, taxi drivers (eyes opened!) and teachers– all can pray. Moms and Grandfathers, sisters and uncles can all pray. Those who are blind, lame, mute, or mentally challenged can all pray. Wise men and fools can pray. Strong or weak, rich or poor, king or captive– all can pray.
When I was growing up, I knew three important things about my father: I knew he loved me–and the rest of our family–faithfully and truly. I knew he loved God–He was a man of faith, prayer, integrity, and obedience to the Word. I knew he would do anything to protect and provide for our family.
But I also knew that my Daddy wasn’t perfect. He was not the strongest man in the neighborhood; or the fastest, or richest, or most respected. He wasn’t the tallest, or most athletic. He wasn’t a leader in local politics or a chamber group or fraternal organization. He didn’t have a string of degrees, or a fleet of fancy cars. He didn’t even have a lot of hair, or perfect teeth. But he had a gentle laugh, a deep wisdom, and a hug that made me feel safe and precious. He had a enormous heart– one that was easily touched, but firmly committed. He was humble and kind; he was loyal and brave and joyful.
I was blessed to have such a Dad. I know people whose earthly fathers were distant, disapproving, absent, or even abusive. Earthly dads, even one like mine, are still human. They make mistakes and bad choices; they carry baggage from their own childhoods; they carry fears and failures; they fall short of our expectations, and their own hopes and dreams. And yet, we long to have a father we can trust; a father who won’t fail us, even in the little things; a father who will perfectly understand us, provide for our needs, and protect us. No matter how old we are, or how successful we may be, our need for a father’s love and approval never end.
Our mental and emotional picture of God is often shaped by our relationship with our earthly fathers. Especially if our father was abusive, it can be difficult to believe that God really loves us. After all, if God loves me, why did He give me an abusive Dad? If God can protect me, why did He allow me to go through a journey with Cancer? Or poverty? Our fallen world leads us into circumstances that cause us to doubt God’s goodness and His ability to redeem our broken past. But, while God sees our painful circumstances, He also sees things that we can’t. He sees the pain that our fathers feel in their own brokenness and inability to “fix” their own past. He sees the kind of growth and compassion that we can learn in our difficulties– lessons that we would not learn in ease and apathy.
God is a different kind of Father. He is eternally sovereign; the King of Kings, and the Creator of the Universe. There is no comparing Him with anyone else’s father– because He is the Ruler and Father of all! Yet, He wants a close loving relationship with each one of us– with me! With you! He is not just committed to doing His best to provide and protect some of us– He is fully capable of providing ALL our needs and protecting us against ALL enemies, including sin and death! For those who have grown up with a distant or abusive father, it can be difficult to hear of God as our “Father” and feel the kind of comfort and trust that we are meant to have. Yet God invites us into His very presence– ALL the time; ANYTIME. He is everything that the word “Father” was meant to be!
Someone once used the analogy of President John F. Kennedy to describe how we can relate to God as “Father.”. As President, JFK was arguably the most powerful man in the world– the leader of the most powerful nation on earth. At his command, soldiers, sailors, pilots, and even nuclear missiles, could be deployed. The stroke of his pen could sign bills into law, grant pardons, and appoint powerful positions. To enter the Oval Office and have an audience with the President was an honor reserved for rulers and generals and authorities– and his children.
There is a picture of JFK, Jr. as a small boy, peeking out of the Resolute Desk, as his father sits behind the desk conducting the business of the nation. The son had complete access to his father’s presence– access to the most powerful man on earth–his Daddy. He may not have fully understood what his father was doing, or even how important his father was– but he knew that he could spend time with his Dad.
Of course, President Kennedy was not God. He was fallible, and terribly mortal, as the nation learned to its grief. But the idea that God is distant and uncaring, or even vindictive and petty, is belied by the many Psalms and hymns and prayers throughout the ages. And the idea that God is just another “pal”, or “the man upstairs”–someone who loves us, but has no real power to command our obedience or rescue us from our enemies–is also belied by the many miracles and examples of His power in nature and in history. And unlike the exclusive nature of the relationship between JFK and his biological children, God invites ANYONE who calls on Him through His Son to be adopted as a son/daughter with the same intimate privilege of total access. https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John%201:11-13&version=HCSB (John 1:12)
So when I pray today, I’m not praying to my “Daddy” in any earthly sense. As much as my earthly Dad loved me, I am praying to someone who loves me more, and better, and perfectly. I am praying to the King of Kings, who also invites me to call him, “Abba”– “Dad.”
Pursuing Prayer 