Let us pray
I’ve never been much good at prayer. Perhaps I need to join a group. Hi. My name is Jeff, and I’m addicted to activity. And conversation. ‘Hi Jeff….’, the group responds in unison. Hopefully.
So while time alone (anything less than an hour) is surely helpful, for me, extended solitude quickly becomes solitary confinement. As a wilderness hermit, dedicated to prayer and a diet of grass and goat droppings, I’d be rubbish.
Even the mention of the word ‘prayer’ intimidates me, and I’m not alone. Most of us labour under the impression that everybody else is better at praying than we are. This feeling is compounded if you’ve ever read a book written by one of those bionic mystic/saints who, 300 years before there was anything on the telly, would pop off to the woods, crawl into the bowels of a log, and have six blissful weeks of fasting and prayer with apparently zero effort. I could never aspire to such dizzy heights. I’d probably give myself to 20 minutes of fervent prayer before exiting the log hastily to (a) remove errant woodlice from my underwear and (b) break my gruelling 20 minute fast by demolishing a double cheeseburger.
Perhaps you feel the same way, and so maybe we should adjust our thinking about prayer. First, scripture freely acknowledges that we will find prayer tough, so if we’re challenged, we’re not bad, just human. ‘We don’t know how to pray as we ought’ says the mighty apostle in a confession that nudges me to head-butt a tambourine in gratitude. I so appreciate Paul’s honesty in acknowledging that talking with someone who is invisible isn’t that easy. And then the pages of the bible frequently portray people struggling to pray - and falling asleep as they tried. Jesus’ disciples, (hand-picked to change world history, remember) drifted off into exhausted slumber no less than three times in the Garden of Gethsemane, even though Jesus had specifically asked them to stay awake, alert and do vigil with him. The thought of them snoring their way through one of the most epic junction moments of all time (a habit of theirs, they got sleepy during the Transfiguration too) fills me with hope.
I’m no longer convinced that prayer is a constant two-way chat - for quite a while I thought it was supposed to be. ‘Prayer is a conversation”, is the phrase I’ve heard preachers use frequently, and one I’ve coined myself. But although God can and does speak, I’m not sure that He’s as verbose as some make Him out to be. My experience of prayer is that it is generally about thanksgiving and request. I come grateful, offer my cares and concerns, and that’s it.
As for lengthy prayer times, I’m encouraged that Jesus countered the pharisaic idea that the only good prayers were long prayers. We might need to pray at length, but we don’t have to set a meter running. Here’s a thought: it’s better to pray for 5 minutes a day, than it is to believe that you’re supposed to pray for an hour a day, but not actually pray at all.
And then I need to manage my disappointments about prayer. Those who imply that they have a hot line to God, and that they are guaranteed to get whatever they ask for, as long as they have the required amount of faith, are building false expectations. If you don’t believe me, head back to Gethsemane again, and witness Jesus putting in a request - no less than three times - for the cup of suffering to be taken away. Put simply, he was saying, if there’s a way to avoid the Cross, then I’d like that. But the request was turned down flat. That doesn’t mean Jesus was ignored - the writer to the Hebrews makes that clear. Jesus was heard, but his specific request was denied.
I’m trying to be more practical about prayer too. Shared prayer with another is good, and easier, but strangely sometimes doesn’t feel like it truly counts as much as the solo variety, which is odd, seeing as we’re specifically instructed to agree in prayer, which obviously involves others. And then I like to go for a walk when I pray. Not only does this double the benefits, giving me a physical workout as well as the opportunity for time with God, but I’ve discovered that it’s fairly difficult to drift off to sleep while walking. Not many people slump to the ground in slumber while trotting along along the High Street.
And as non-Anglican, I’ve found liturgy useful at times. Sometimes I use Common Worship as a foundation for my prayers, mainly because there are times when I can’t think of too much that is useful to say, and quickly get bored with the sound of my own voice.
It’s a bit odd though, because it’s designed for congregational use, which means that there are parts for the priest to say, and responses required from the people.
I do both bits.
The peace of the Lord be with you, I say to myself.
And also with you, I respond to myself.
But I’ve found a way to feel less silly about this. I use different voices.
A little odd, I agree. And so do I.