And When We Pray

And when you pray, you must not be like the hypocrites. For they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, that they may be seen by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward.  But when you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.  – Matthew 6:5-6

Back when I used to teach in church, I did a lot of studying.  That goes along with my nature.  I enjoy reading.  With a couple of translations of the Bible, a Strong’s Concordance, Vine’s Word Studies in the New Testament, and resorting on occasion to a commentary or the footnotes in my fat NIV Study Bible, I could have a fine time putting together a fairly substantial lesson for the Adult Sanctuary Class.  Reading the Bible was never an issue for me.  What did nag at me in terms of spiritual discipline, from the moment I began to follow Christ, was my neglect of prayer. 

Of course, I prayed when I was in a bind and my wife was sick or the kids were in trouble or I needed a job or I could not pay the bills.  I would pray early on Sunday morning as part of my preparation for teaching.  I prayed in agreement with others during church services.  Sometimes I would go down and pray at the mourners' benches in a Sunday evening service, either as my own response to a message or in support of someone else.  In spite of that, prayer for the sake of prayer, or more rightly, for the sake of talking to my Father remained a difficulty. 

Sometimes I would make an effort to set aside time in the morning, or I would commit to a time in the evening.  I had a rosary for a while.  I have tried to follow that ancient practice sometimes called the daily office or liturgy of the hours.  I think that would be a good practice for some, but at this point in life, it does not work for me.  (If anyone is interested, there is a recent book on it called In Constant Prayer by Robert Benson.)  One day, after using the Psalms for prayer, I realized, finally, the real nature of my problem.  Left to itself, my mind is like a hungry goat that has escaped from the pen.  Everything thing looks edible, and there is edible stuff everywhere.  Without something to focus on, I am like “a leaf on the wind” to quote Wash from Serenity. 

Praying the Psalms worked for me as a focal point, but it was a little too much like, well, like reading the Bible.  What I needed was more than a prayer list; I needed something like a personal psalm.  I got a little cheap notebook that I could hide because there are things I pray about that are no one else’s business (see the warning above about "street corners").  The first page is a single statement of how I see my purpose in the world.  The next few pages are just about me, asking God for help with specific struggles and talking about the places where I need help and where I stumble.  Following that are sections for specific people and situations.  I try to leave some blank space -- at least the back of a page, for new requests for an individual.  Except for the opening page with its reminder of what I am doing, everything is written in pencil.  I sometimes need to re-word things a little, or I realize my understanding of a situation was incorrect and a prayer needs to be phrased differently. 

These are not long prayers.  I try to make my requests as brief and as specific as possible to guard against "vain repetitions" and empty words.  I may have multiple requests for a given person, but each is separate.  If one is answered, it becomes a thanksgiving instead of a plea, a standing stone attesting to God’s grace and power.   

You may have noticed that I used the word “specific” several times.  A while back it was mentioned that Jesus often asked people what they wanted Him to do for them.  The story of Blind Bartimaeus from Mark 10:46-52 is a case in point:  

And many rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he cried out all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”  And Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart. Get up; he is calling you.”  And throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus.  And Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” And the blind man said to him, “Rabbi, let me recover my sight.”

Do we think that Jesus could not see that the poor man was blind?  What did He think a blind man might want?  No, the Lord was not unaware of the blindness, but He wanted Bartimaeus to know what Bartimaeus wanted.  There are times when it is quite appropriate to fall down before God and cry out, “Have mercy on me!”  We can be overwhelmed by circumstances that are beyond our comprehension and understanding.  There is nothing wrong with a general plea.  But if we have a problem that can be defined in detail, we should address it in detail.  As the old song says, “Jesus on the main line, tell Him what you want.”

My method is very practical and appropriate for me.  Most people have better mental discipline than I have and can afford to be more spontaneous.  Oddly enough, I have found that writing my prayers down this way makes them more accessible to me when I find myself with a few spare minutes.  One of my requests will often come to mind as I am getting ready to go to sleep or as I am waking up in the morning.  Very slowly, prayer is beginning to infiltrate my life.