A little something on prayer

So this morning we’re talking about prayer, and rightfully so, Paul says we’re suppose to be ceaseless in it. Surely it’d be worthwhile to spend time talking about what the heck that even means. But instead I’d like to get back to the basics of prayer. So my question to add to our discussion this morning is this - Why pray? I mean seriously, why pray? What’s the use? Is Niche right? Is it just an opiate that makes us feel better? Is that what it’s all about? Ya know, telling Jesus what’s on your heart via some quaint and polite monologue? Or better yet, maybe it’s just another one of the fine tools we have in order to compete with a brother, so as to elevate ourselves as being more spiritual by speaking with the right, loving tone, and mixing together a few theological bangers with some pretty sounding words, and making sure to slide in every name for God any time we transition between thoughts.

Obviously I’m being sarcastic here. The reason I’m doing so is because we Christians find ourselves caught in the middle of a major theoretical problem when it comes to prayer.

You see, as Christians we hold to this idea that our God, is infinite in goodness. And we cling to the belief that our God is omnipotent and sovereign, that is, our God is all-powerful and able to bring about his will as he pleases: whenever, wherever, however. So why? Why pray?

I mean, if you think about it, it‘s a senseless endeavor. Can you really believe that infinite wisdom needs telling what is best? Or that infinite goodness needs an urging to do it? Can you believe that God ever really modifies His actions in response to our suggestions? Do you see the theoretical problem this raises? God doesn’t need you, or me; or your prayers, or mine. Neither does he need missionaries, or even medicine at that. He could convert any heathen, and heal any disease laden body in the twinkling of his eye.

Yet for some reason, “God,” in the words of Pascal, “instituted prayer in order to lend to His creatures the dignity of causality.” It’s a fancy way of saying God chooses to limit his power in such a way that the muscles and minds and wills, of you and I , are given the opportunity to cooperate in the doing of His will. And the truth in this goes beyond prayer. You see, whenever we act at all he lends us that same dignity of causality; it is the only reason we can cause anything. Therefore, it is not really any more or less strange to think that our prayer should affect the course of events than any others do. And get this - in doing so, we are not advising or changing God’s mind - that is, His over-all purpose. That remains. But our actions, and prayers will cause that purpose to be realized in different ways.

Along the same line of thought, C.S. Lewis says this, “For He seems to do nothing of Himself which He can possibly delegate to His creatures. He commands us to do slowly and blunderingly what He could do perfectly. He allows us to neglect what He would have us do, or to fail. Perhaps we do not fully realize the problem, so to call it, of enabling finite free wills to co-exist with Omnipotence. It seems to involve at every moment almost a sort of divine abdication. We are not mere recipients or spectators. We are either privileged to share in the game or compelled to collaborate in the work, “to wield our little trident.” Is this amazing process simply Creation going on before our eye? This is how (no light matter) God makes something - indeed, makes gods - out of nothing.”

It is my desire that every one of us here would come to not only know of prayer as some theological concept, but to truly know the creative power we’ve been given to challenge and change the human history until it conforms to the norms of the kingdom of God in such a way that we cannot help but begin enacting it now.

Which brings me to my last thoughts. (Couldn’t come up with any nice transition)

If you view prayer as some sort of machine, as if God is some genie in the sky, floating around, ready to grant your requests, I want to tell you your wrong. And if you’ve ever been down because what you pray for never comes to be, and you are lead to think, “dude, what’s wrong with me,“ as if it’s the faithful who have the greatest influence on the throne; I urge you to consider this hard quote I once heard -

“I have seen many striking answers to prayer and more than one that I thought miraculous. But they usually come at the beginning: before conversion, or soon after it. As the Christian life proceeds, they tend to be rarer. The refusals, too, are not only more frequent; they become more unmistakable, more emphatic.”

It’s not a pleasant suggestion, and if those words don’t sit right with you at first consider this. In Gethsemane, Jesus requests of God to spare him from the peculiarly unpleasant death set before him is refused. Which raises the difficult question, “Does God forsake those who serve him best?“ There is a mystery here that takes far more courage than I have to explore, but I suggest that next time your prayers are granted you refrain from drawing any conclusions to your own advantage. For in the words of Lewis, “If we were stronger, we might be less tenderly treated. If we were braver, we might be sent, with far less help, to defend far more desperate posts in the great battle.”