A few weeks ago I was asked to address The Evangelical Alliance Mission (TEAM) headquarters staff as a part of their observance of the National Day of Prayer. The annual call to prayer is one of the positive things occurring in our country and, in my opinion, deserves everyone’s support. I eagerly accepted.
Usually I don’t have much trouble finding something to say. But as this day approached, I found myself struggling with the subject of prayer; more specifically, I found myself wrestling with a lifelong struggle to master the disciplines of prayer. I had to admit that the dissonance between my understanding of prayer and my personal experience with prayer was too great to sustain anything more than trite, tiresome words.
In the end, I decided to be candid, confess my struggles, and share what I’m currently learning about prayer. It’s pretty basic-concepts I should have incorporated into my life long ago. Had I done so, my life would have been less stressful and more productive.
First of all, I’m learning that prayer is so much more than talking to God. For me, the most important dimension of prayer has become being with God. Since childhood I’ve sensed his presence with me, but only recently, in prayer, have I learned how to be with him and enjoy his presence.
For years my prayer times were filled with what now seems to be compulsive, incessant babbling-hasty confessions of transgressions, obligatory phrases of praise and appreciation, and a laundry list of requests interspersed with appeals for deliverance and relief. To be with God-share silence with him, delight in his company-felt awkward and contrived. Short prayers (thirty minutes was a long time) were the order of the day. Often they were the order of the week.
The pivotal point in my shift from talking to God to being with him came after reading a Helmut Thielicke sermon. He tells of a little girl-about five years old-who knows that sometime after five o’clock her daddy will arrive home from work. Long before five, she takes her daily station at the front storm door, nose pressed firmly against the glass, scrutinizing every vehicle that passes by. Finally, a big diesel bus comes into view and her heart quickens as she watches it slowly come to a stop and disgorge its passengers. As her daddy uncouples himself from the crowd, crosses the parkway, and starts up the walk to the house, she can contain herself no longer. She flings open the door, races across the porch, and leaps into his open, extended arms just as his foot reaches the first step. They embrace; he holds her tightly to his bosom while she hugs his neck with all of her might, mutually savoring the love and affection that binds them together.
Once again, she is with her father and he is with her. Words are incidental and irrelevant to what passes between them.
I read this anecdote around the time Mary and I celebrated our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. We agreed that the most meaningful times we have had together can’t be captured by words. Just being together was enough.
“Love God for who he is, not for what he does” is an admonition I’ve preached dozens of times. But I never fully understood it or how to apply it to my life until I learned how to be with him in prayer.
The second lesson I’m learning is that the work of the day, the really significant labor, can be accomplished in prayer. It’s in talking with God that I’m learning how to ask better questions, search out better answers, and persist in finding out how to turn the events and encounters of the day into more worthwhile and productive activities.
Learning how to labor through prayer has only heightened my awareness of how totally committed God is to helping me find the clearer perspectives, creative approaches, and more workable solutions. And it’s hard. Real prayer is tough, hard work.
This truth was recently affirmed by my friend Haddon Robinson, president of Denver Conservative Baptist Seminary. In a recent issue of Focal Point, he made some observations about ministry and the labor of prayer.
“In the life of Jesus, prayer was the work and ministry was the prize. For me, prayer serves as preparation for the battle, but for Jesus, it was the battle itself. Having prayed, he went about his ministry as an honor student might go to receive a reward, or as a marathon runner, having run the race, might accept the gold medal.
“Where was it that Jesus sweat great drops of blood? Not in Pilate’s Hall, nor on his way to Golgotha. It was in the Garden of Gethsemane. There he ‘offered up prayers and petitions with loud cries and tears to the One who could save him from death’ (Hebrews 5:7). Had I been there and witnessed that struggle, I would have worried about the future. ‘If he is so broken up when all he is doing is praying,’ I might have said, ‘what will he do when he faces a real crisis? Why can’t he approach this ordeal with the calm confidence of his three sleeping friends?’ Yet, when the test came, Jesus walked to the cross with courage, and his three friends fell apart and fell away.”
I know Haddon would agree that the ministry of Jesus was built on Luke 5:16-“But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.” For him, nothing was more important than being with and talking with his Father.
Paul D. Robbins is executive vice-president of Christianity Today, Inc.
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