LEARNING TO PRAY

It is noteworthy that Jesus’ disciples never asked the Master to teach them anything except to pray. Lord, teach us to pray, they petitioned, as if that would take care of all their other responsibilities. Praying is probably the most important thing we ever do, and yet we know far too little about it. When you stop to think about it, it is a staggering concept, that mortal man actually communes or talks to the Creator of the universe. Man is admitting both his creatureliness and his fallenness when he prays. If he really believes there is Somebody listening, and that what he says will in some way make a difference, it speaks volumes as to the character of his religion. Among other things it means that he really believes one of the most impressive promises of all Scripture: that if we will draw nigh unto God, He will draw nigh unto us. They must be few who really believe that, and I presume that we must grow gradually into that kind of faith.

When the sinful Bertrand Russell, Britain’s crusty philosopher who mocked his nation’s false values, was asked about man’s greatest and most pleasurable experience, he unflinchingly declared that it was sex. Those who are blessed with breathtaking marriages, especially those that have a spiritual quality, will concede that the old philosopher was right, or at least more right than wrong. After all, sex is God’s creation, and there is no reason why its ultimate fulfillment should not be indescribably beautiful. Man is not usually that honest about sex. But I should think that there is one human experience that would far exceed the one that Russell named, even if man rarely enjoys it to any appreciable degree, and that is drawing nigh to God.

I’ve long been profoundly impressed with Scripture’s brief description of old Enoch: he walked with God. Maybe there are but few in human history of which that can be said, really be said. Enoch surely enjoyed many pleasures within the context of that holy walk, and this is where sex should come since it too is worship (I hope I don’t lose you with that one, but surely everything the believer does is within his service to God), but for Enoch to live so close to God that he “walks” with Him surely points to man’s greatest adventure and most scintillating pleasure. It is indeed the ultimate of human happiness and the purpose of religion.

I am not presuming to teach you how to pray, for I am but a disciple myself. I am only setting forth a few observations that may prove helpful along the way, and this is my first one: that we set our hearts upon the presence of God, not so much that we come into His presence but that we are already in His presence, all the time. Yet prayer is something special within this, for we do “draw nigh” unto Him in prayer. The suggestion that we practice “the presence of God” is almost too much even for the one who makes it. Isaiah was overawed with the reality of God’s presence and was moved to praise God and to confess his own uncleaness. Should it be any different with us, prophets or not?

God is our Father and that is a precious truth, but this can imply intimacy without suggesting familiarity. We can be comfortable and peaceful in His presence without it being commonplace. While I appreciate any effort to get inside the meaning of Abba, Father, I cannot help but scringe when someone addresses “Our Father who art in heaven” as Daddy. I will say, Abba, Father, for He has made me a son, but I am not going to address the God of heaven as Daddy. I am much more comfortable with, “I praise thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth,” which is the way Jesus prayed (Matt. 11:25).

While prayer is certainly personal, it becomes too personal, even individualistic, when the sense of community is lost. Jesus taught his disciples to pray, Our Father, not My Father. “Give us this day our daily bread,” he prayed. He did of course use I when he was praying personally, and so should we. But one appears to be insensitive to the community when he prays within the assembly and sounds as if it is his own personal prayer. The “prayers of the church” were important to our pioneers in their pilgrimage to restore the ancient order, and they should be to us. Always, I believe, we should pray in reference to being a part of the Body of Christ, remembering our sisters and brothers by name.

Praise is a form of prayer and our “drawing nigh” is enriched when we praise the Father for His glorious work among men. We praise Him because He is the God of the living and not of the dead, and because He raised up Abraham as the father of the faithful and manifested Himself in the Person of Jesus. There are many different ways that we can say Hallowed be thy name.

Our prayers are enriched as they are more specific and less general. They have more substance when we get beyond thanking and praising Him for “our many blessings” to a specific reference to the bounties of this very day. Do we thank him for sound minds and bodies, for eyesight, that we can get up out of bed, for books, for those who have blazed the trail before us in many areas (naming some of them specifically, such as thanking the Father for what He did for us through Thomas Edison or Louis Pasteur).

How beautiful it is for us to pray that we might bear Christ’s likeness more and more each day, and in specific ways. “May those with whom I work today see something of Jesus tenderness and forgiveness in me. May they be able to see that I have today been with Jesus.”

We should pray specifically about our sins, especially our secret sins. If a sister has jealousy in her heart toward another who is prettier or wealthier than herself, let her bare her soul before the Lord, naming the sin (and perhaps the person) and suing for His cleansing. When a brother has those secret love affairs in his heart (and we are not to assume that the President is the only one who does!), let him lay it all before Him who is eager to show mercy. We confess our sins to the Lord by naming them for what they are. It is bad enough to play games with each other, we certainly must not do so with the Lord. Confessions can be so general as to be meaningless. When a father or mother can pray, “Lord, I lost my temper when I spoke like that to the little child you gave me,” even the angels must take note that the person means business.

Because he learned to lay his soul bare before his Maker may be one reason David was called a man after God’s own heart. “You see me, whether I am working or resting,” he said to the Father in Ps. 139, “you know all my actions.” He goes on to pray: “Even before I speak, you already know what I will say. You are all around me on every side; you protect me with your power.” And it was in prayer that David learned of the character of God: “Sincerity and truth are what you require . . . My sacrifice is a humble spirit, a God; you will not reject a humble and repentant heart.” (Ps. 51)

That tells us something about the way we should pray, which is probably the most important thing we do, especially when we pray for others. Had Jesus never prayed, it would be understandable since he himself was divine. But the Scriptures make it clear that even he, whose life was not fragmented by sin as is ours, prayed always. Within the shadow of the cross he prayed more for others than for himself. He asked the Father that his disciples might be one, and he prayed that all believers would be united so that the world might be saved.

Jesus was the great peacemaker. He prayed for peace and he died for peace. If in the face of death he prayed for the unity of his community, that they love one another even as he loved them, should the modern church, each of us, pray and work for the oneness of all God’s children?—the Editor