Virtue and Desire

Devotional Classics, Richard Rolle, Excerpts from The Fire of Love

"This surely is the way we turn to Christ: to desire nothing but him. To turn away from those "good things" of the world, which pervert rather than protect those who love them, involves the withering of physical lust and the hatred of wickedness of any sort. So you will find there are people who have not taste for earthly things and who deal with mundane matters no more than is absolutely necessary." (p. 162)

I find that many of the prayers I hear and offer have to do with the "good things" of this life. God indeed blesses me with many things I may not even notice. This time of year a number of people look forward to raises and bonuses. This year I prayed for a better year financially, but it had had a number of upsets. And yet, I am still well-fed and clothed and healthy.

Coming out of Thanksgiving, these "good things" have had their spotlight. Is Rolle really just a "Grinch?" Could he be a pale, raving prophet who wants to ruin everyone's happiness and joy? What he talks about apparently had no more appeal to those who read his book in the 1300's that for me in this day. The "freedom" I now have to get what I desire almost instantaneously has not made me desire Christ more, but probably wars against such a desire.

I find that the main point is this: When does my greed and accumulation of "stuff" turn my heart cold towards Christ and his life and his purposes? In my own experience, it doesn't take long. One of the purposes of virtue, then, seems to be keeping the heart aglow with love for God. The "good things" of life need to be taken sparingly, and only when they don't interfere with my love for Christ. This is virtue: the right (and sparing) use of the things of this world to increase and nurture a continuing and increasing love for God.

What is it to "desire nothing but" Christ? It seems to me that this means all other desire are weighed against my love for Christ. Whatever I may want needs to be considered in the light of this question: Will it draw me nearer to Jesus or take me away? The virtuous mind is one in which this desire for Christ is paramount and continually moving me toward what is good and away from what is worthless or evil.

This is so far beyond WWJD. It is not so much a matter of asking, but a matter of knowing. When I have the presence of God as my light, then whatever lessens it or snuffs it out needs to be carefully considered. This knowing is more than a mere internal experience. It must line up with deep and regular study and meditation on the Bible as well as how I treat people around me, from closest to most distant. (Funny how I can love "humanity" but hate my neighbor, coworker, or sibiling.)

Lord, let my mind be on you and your words of life so that I may develop this virtuous mind and heart which desire you first and foremost and allows all other desires no status or place except when they are for your presence, your gifts, or your people. Free me from the tyranny of always wondering about and seeking out what I want. I want to enter a different place where such desires only accompany and deepen my desire for you. Amen.

Rather than ask myself at every turn "Is this OK?" I believe I need to continue to increase my desire for God and take notice when other things get in the way. The competition of such desires will alert me to their ill-placed status. As Jesus said, "No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate one and love the other or be devoted to one and despise the other." (Mt. 6:24) God will also get in the way of a love for the "good things" of this world as surely as they will get in the way of my love for God. This is not because God is against good things or desire as such, but because they are in different directions entirely; to go one way is to abandon the other. That is why I cannot "serve both God and money."

Virtue and Failure

Devotional Classics, Gregory of Nyssa, Excerpts from The Life of Moses

"This is true perfection: not to avoid a wicked life because like slaves we servilely fear punishment, not to do good because we hope for rewards, as if cashing in on the virtuous life by some business-like arrangement. On the contrary, disregarding all those things for which we hope and which have been reserved by promise, we regard falling from God's friendship as the only thing dreadful and we consider becoming God's friend the only thing worthy of honor and desire. This, as I have said, is the perfection of life." (p.157)

When my kids do something they shouldn't, what seems the worst is being caught. They feel truly bad and want to make amends as quickly as possible. They can't stand the disapproval. Punishment can almost seem welcome to them so they can "make up" for what they did. I guess there are some things people don't grow out of too easily.

Now, what about the things I am not caught doing. Without the obvious presence of another person to emphasize my disobedience or lack of control, I feel much less anxiety and sorrow. At this point I am tested. How much do I sense God's presence? Knowing that he know and sees what I have done may cause some level of conviction.

There is something to living in God's presence as living under the scrutiny of love which "does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth." (1 Cor. 13:6) God has no love for the evil things I do. This is bound to affect me the more I am aware of it.

And yet, it doesn't entirely. My mind says, "Well, God sees everything; there won't be any shocking him" or "He knows that there are worse people than me around." It is not merely his scrutiny nor his love that keep me from stopping my trek of virtue to indulge in evil side paths. Something more is required.

Something more than God's love? What could their be? Obviously God's love is foundational and necessary, but he has granted me my own measure of love to give or withhold from him. Friendship is not merely God loving me, but me loving God as well. My own part is infinitely smaller than God's, but still necessary.

So when I sin and fall, I still feel like a creep. God's kept up his side of the friendship, but I have been unfaithful. Granted. But God doesn't want us to feel bad about ourselves so much as feeling bad about distancing ourselves from him. As long as my reason for virtue focuses on what will happen to me when I do right or wrong, it will remain outside my heart and in the realm of behavior alone. My reason for virtue must come from a concern about what will happen to God if I am unfaithful.

Really, God hurts about my sin and unfaithfulness far more than I ever will. He will not become unfaithful or give up on me or lose control, but knows that I am in danger of breaking faith with him. My will and faithfulness can only bend so far. But even if I am not in danger of "breaking" entirely, our relationship is cut shorter and my experience of his loving community in Trinity is noticeably dulled. His love for me is so deep, each moment I spend away pains him.

Lord, I hate when I sin against you. I find I hate my failure more than I hate the hurt and the separation I cause between myself and you and other people as well. Forgive me for my pride about being right and virtuous. Help me rather to obtain the true perfection of friendship with you that I will not part with for anything because of the sheer joy and peace of being with you. I do not want to be right as much as I want to love you more. Amen.

This really makes me aware of my recovery time. After exerting in exercise, recovering correctly can mean the difference between feeling energized by my exercise or getting cramps and injuries. Similarly, recovery time from sinning against God is what happens after I confess. It can be spent in anger at myself and God and others which can leave me far worse off than the sin itself. I long to let go of my pride and worry about being righteous and "perfect," and seek to think on God's pain and his hurt as well as those I have wronged and eagerly try to remedy what I can. The hardest thing is facing the pain I have caused by sinning, but it is the only thing that will heal the relationship well and bring true virtue.

Pursuing Virtue

Devotional Classics, Gregory of Nyssa, Excerpts from The Life of Moses

"We should show great diligence not to fall away from the perfection which is attainable but to acquire as much as possible: to that extent let us make progress within the realm of what we seek. For the perfection of human nature consists perhaps in its very growth in goodness." (p.156)

"[Gregory] and other Church fathers used the Bible and its characters to teach us how to grow closer to God, how to "elevate" the soul to God." (p.154)

Stand at the crossroads and look;

ask for the ancient paths,

ask where the good way is, and walk in it,

and you will find rest for your souls.

(Jeremiah 6:16)

Virtue seems a funny thing to rest in. I think of resting in bed, resting in the Bahamas, resting near a mountain stream, but not resting in virtue. The more immediate image of rest with virtue is thinking of sleeping on a bed of nails.

This fear and revulsion to virtue is foreign to Gregory. He sees virtue as the means to draw near to God. Although perfection has no limit in his eyes and is therefore unattainable, he understands the never-ceasing pursuit of it as the essence of human perfection. Certainly, pursuit can be merely the act of pursuing, but another meaning captures the kind of pursuit that he is talking about, I think: any occupation, pastime, or the like, in which a person is engaged regularly or customarily, like "literary pursuits."

The connotation has the feel of a hobby, like something pleasant. For the sake of certain hobbies, I have engaged in rigorous research, spent late nights in experimentation, and expended funds to perfect the outcomes. The whole process is one of joy and anticipation. Such "pursuits" reflect the sort of heart that can rest in virtue. When virtue is something I "love," the pursuit can become "rest for the soul."

Of course, the pursuit of virtue as a hobby breaks down, since hobbies are by definition non-essential. Virtue and the rest of the soul are matters of life and death. Grace enables me to take such matters lightly not because of their importance or because nothing is required of me, but because "he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Php. 1:6) Perfection lies in the seeking because of the power that God displays in everyone who seeks him and his ways (Mt. 6:33). In this way I can truly find rest for my soul: in the grace of God that empowers and inspires me.

Lord, let my pursuits be ones that take me to your side rather than away from you. You are the fountain of life. May your streams run through me in everything I do. And may I run - not walk - into obedience and virtue because they are your ways and bring me to your side for loving fellowship and for good work. Amen.

Rest in work happens when I learn submission. Virtue is the answer when I ask where the good way is. Walking in it takes trust and submission to the One who would guide me. When I work merely for myself, worry takes over. The heart of this rest is submission and trusting in the Father even as Jesus did, so that all my ways are ways of peace. "

Virtue and Perfectionism

Devotional Classics, Gregory of Nyssa, Excerpts from The Life of Moses

"Although on the whole my argument has shown that [perfection] is unattainable, one should not disregard the commandment of the Lord which says, Therefore be perfect, just as your heavenly father is perfect. For in the case of those things which are good by nature, even if men of understanding were not able to attain everything, by attaining even a part they could yet gain a great deal." (p.156)

The unattainable aspect of this command is for the Pharisees and teachers of the law. As Jesus explained the righteousness of the kingdom, they no doubt sneered at his ideas being presented to the disciples and the crowds. Not only were his ideas impossible, but laughable because the riff-raff that Jesus offered them to. They may have even seen his commands as blasphemous, asking people to try to imitate the Almighty God. Jesus would expect this from people who approach righteousness like the Pharisees did. They cannot see it any other way.

But there is another way to understand this command, "Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect." Jesus contrasted this command with a comment he gave before the examples of heavenly righteousness: "I tell you, unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven." This got me thinking, what is the righteousness of these experts and leading thinkers of the day? Basically, it boils down to something Jesus says later about them: "Everything they do is done for men to see." (Mt. 23:5)

The contrast, then, is this: my perfection is to be like God's in quality, not quantity. The perfection of God comes from his nature - who he is and how he is. The righteousness of the Pharisees came (comes) from external pressures and the basic desire to look good rather than be good. The whole point of the examples Jesus gives before this command in Matthew 5 is that I cannot do right by simply not doing wrong; I must become right to do what is right. Similarly, in Matthew 6 after this command for perfection, Jesus says I cannot do what is right by simply doing what is right, I must become right in order to do what is right. The perfection of the Father that Jesus points me to is one that comes from the inside out rather than the outside in.

I do not think that Jesus was saying that the quantity of perfection was unimportant. Not being able to attain it can drive me to despair and ridicule or to grace. Granted. But I see more than that. He is also pointing me to the only road to surpassing the outward forms of rule and law that never made anyone righteous. He points me to the idea that in order to practice virtue in any real sense, I must set my mind, heart, and body on becoming the sort of person who practices virtue. The adjective virtuous then means not someone who follows a bunch of rules religiously, but someone whom the rules follow and in whom they flow because of their life and character. Jesus seems to say, "Don't follow the rules, let them follow you!"

Striving to be perfect only leads to "perfectionism" when imposed from the outside as rules and law. When striving to be perfect is a matter of living with God daily and longing for and seeking out his goodness, his virtue, his righteousness (Mt. 6:33), then the outside of my life gets cleaned as well (23:26). Perfectionism has to keep score in order to continue on. Becoming perfect in virtue can (and does) enjoy doing what is right because it comes from God and can leave the results to him as well even while enjoying just "a part." Perfectionism has to compare with others (Mt. 7:1-6) and therefore must do things mainly for everyone to see. Becoming perfect in virtue is content and even more pleased to keep such practices and joys private, as a special offering to God. Perfectionism yields impatience, unkindness, envy, unhappiness, and conflict within the person and outside him toward others. Becoming perfect in virtue brings patience, kindness, encouragement, joy, and peace toward my own life and toward others' as well.

Lord, I have been in the grip of perfectionism too often. I have seen you as a task master hanging over me waiting for me to get something wrong so you can condemn me. Father, I did not know what I was thinking! You are so kind and your ways are so often misunderstood because of my own harshness and how it makes me see everyone else as harsh, too. Let me rather walk this road of perfection knowing that virtue comes from a heart and a life that is bent on loving you as surely as smoke comes from a fire. Let my intention be true: becoming good, right, and virtuous rather than merely seeking to look good, right, and virtuous. May your grace impel me as I turn to walk this path. Amen.

Like Jesus, I want to revel in the goodness of his Father. Jesus was unspotted because of his continual joy in the goodness of the Father, his continual efforts to do what the Father was doing. Certainly he is the only mediator between the Father and all people. Yet his mediation is not merely going back and forth between the Father and me, but also introducing me to the Father and showing me how to live in His presence with himself, the Son, and the Spirit. Such is the joy of virtue: relying on Jesus to do what I cannot do and finding more and more that I can do the things that Jesus does as I stand and walk with him toward the Father and in the Spirit. This is the rightness I long for: being right in the middle of the loving Trinity of Father, Son and Holy Spirit. May virtue place me on their doorstep.

Sick with Virtue

Devotional Classics, Theologia Germanica, Excerpts from The Theologia Germanica of Martin Luther

"It is the inner person who receives God's law, his word, and all his teachings. These show him how to become united with God. Where this happens, the outer person is structured and tutored by the inner person and learns that no outward law or teaching is needed, for human laws and commands belong to the outer person. They are needed when one knows nothing better." (p. 148)

One of the concerns when monitoring sicknesses in the public is the avenue of entry. How virulent a disease is in the public depends a lot on how it can infect a person. If the disease is not "contagious," the avenue of entry is improbable or even impossible. The more easily the disease is transferred from one person to another, the more "contagious" the disease is. This is what makes the flu more dangerous than gangrene in a public sense.

God's word is not communicable through outward laws and rules. They may be observed symptoms of an inner reality, but his communication with people does not occur merely through outward actions and observations. This is why public laws will never make people better nor will mere religion. Although there is outward conformity in both spheres that may make life better and easier for all, this is not, strictly speaking, receiving and following God's law and his words. Hopefully, they pave the way for God to speak with people in their hearts.

Outward conformity and outward motivational schemes abound because they produce outward results of apparent "goodness" and often outward rewards of money, respect, and satisfaction. This is not all bad, but fails to treat the real problem and develop real growth because it leaves the inside untouched. A person compelled to follow laws or develop virtue has not really become virtuous, but is merely "cashing in" on the outward benefits of his actions.

So, to begin with, how do I know if I've caught the "disease" of virtue, of following God's laws and words? What would be the symptoms of this disease? Jesus says that it can be tracked through the character of the person - his fruit (Mt.7:15-20). What kind of person am I? Am I getting "sicker" with love, defined as having joy, peace, patience, kindness, etc.(Gal. 6)? Are his commands, in themselves, a delight to me (Ps. 1:2)? Such symptoms truly indicate that I have "caught it" in the roots of my life.

This avenue of entry intrigues me. Certainly it is why Jesus told the Pharisees to clean the inside of the dish and the outside will be clean also (Mt. 23). So what does this mean for virtue in my life? I think that it means that as I learn to love God's commands, the virtue he has and expects, the "symptoms" of that love will be virtuous acts in my life, just like when I am infected with a cold virus, I will display cold-like symptoms. As long a virtue remains a bitter pill to swallow, it will not take root or really "infect" me, but become distasteful to me.

I have noticed my body expresses delight or distaste of God's laws and words. Doing things with "gritted teeth" is more than just a saying, it is an actual bodily response to doing distasteful activities. My body can only be truly retrained from the inside out, otherwise I fall into hypocrisy. Only through my embracing God's grace and goodness will virtue become a delight. I need the room to fail and learn and I need the understanding that virtue is what is truly good - that I'm not missing out on anything by being virtuous.

Lord, I see that I cannot do this alone, but need your help at all points, even choosing to start. I have been resistant in each step, but I find that you are gentle and will not merely impose virtue on me, but will continually invite me into your ways. Help me to see through the fog of misunderstanding I have that calls your laws and virtue "stifling" or "unnecessary." Strengthen me with your grace. Amen.

I cannot choose to get "sick" with virtue, but I can expose myself to it repeatedly and intentionally, hoping to "catch" it. The Bible is, of course, filled with the virus. However, I find that I have developed some immunity to seeking virtue by repeated exposure to biblical teachings and readings that are empty of the real "sickness" of virtue, by replacing it with merely "trying" to be good, or by hoping that it will merely by placed on me through some experience. Therefore, I find it helpful to supplement biblical teaching with the teaching of others who have really gotten "sick with virtue" and can read the Bible with fresh eyes and hear God with new ears. Of course, being around people who have caught the bug is the most effective, and eagerly I look for them.

Virtue and Understanding

Devotional Classics, Theologia Germanica, Excerpts from The Theologia Germaica of Martin Luther

"It may be commendable to ask, hear about, and gather information concerning good and holy persons, or how they have lived and how God has worked and willed in and through them. But it is a hundredfold better that people deeply within themselves learn and understand the what and the how of life. They need to learn what God is working and doing in them and how God wishes to use them and not use them." (p. 150)

"Nothing succeeds like success" the saying goes. So I find myself looking around myself, surfing the internet, or reading the latest personal or even church growth books, looking for success in virtue and getting things right. Somehow I think that the last bit of info didn't take because I didn't get just the "right" answer. I have read many a devotion book like a recipe or instruction manual, hoping that if I just get the proper procedure, I will break into that new and wonderful life and escape my old dead habits.

The temptation to accumulate knowledge is strong nowadays, since so much information is available and easily accessed. Really, that is only what it is: "gathering information." Somehow intelligence and success have been tied to this practice of gathering information. The other night I asked my family, "What does a really smart person look like?" I must admit that being full of information and facts came quickly to my mind.

I think James would agree with the writer of the Theologia in his assessment of this gathering of information. "Who is wise and understanding among you? Let him show it by his good life, by deeds done in humility that comes from wisdom. But if you harbor bitter envy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast about it or deny the truth. Such 'wisdom' does not come down from heaven but is earthly, unspiritual, and of the devil. For where you have envy and selfish ambition, there you find disorder and every evil practice." (3:13-16) Gathering information generally does not go deep enough or inside enough to be useful.

Virtue cannot be learned or achieved in this way. The hard, fast throw of gathering information skips across the water of my mind, leaving little waves that quickly disappear. The writer suggests three things to submerge virtue and the right way to live into my life.

First, I need to learn and understand deeply. This sort of learning comes from reading and rereading material. I find that this precludes either skimming or merely quoting a mere phrase. Skimming and retaining quotes can remind me of things I have learned, but cannot replace learning and understanding. So I find that merely reading the Bible without studying it or memorizing verses without pondering or memorizing the surrounding context yields little understanding. However a person finds it, this deep understanding takes time and effort to work it from the surface of the mind into the "inner parts" of the mind, where it can influence a person's heart. The slowness of this kind of learning frustrates me when I am in a hurry and impatient for change, but without it, knowledge can never go deep enough to effect virtue at all. With spiritual knowledge, which is necessary for virtue, prayer must accompany my efforts because, as James says, such wisdom "comes down from heaven" and is not attainable merely through my own thinking.

Second, the content of my learning must embrace "the what and the how of life." I think of the "what" of life as the everyday, moment-by-moment occurrences I experience and effect. Whatever good things I may think about must be true to real life as it happens. I have children, a wife, a job, and I live in the presence and creation of God. Many seemingly "great" thoughts leave out or run over the "what" in life, making them impracticable. Virtue must be framed by real life to be real virtue. Now I find that virtue always involves real changes in my life, but they are changes that have more to do with my habits and expectations than with my circumstances.

The "how" of life is that most things do not happen just because I want them to. Prayer leads to action and action back to prayer in my experience. Virtue must be approached with much thought, but it must not stay there. It must be practiced. But one the realities of virtue is that it generally cannot be practiced directly without falling into hypocrisy or despair. I cannot merely practice being humble, or stopping anger. These sorts of things have to be approached indirectly. Studying them helps me a lot. I follow it by studying myself in God's presence, observing what leads me into virtue or away from him and his virtues (called the Examen of Conscience and Consciousness).

This leads into the last suggestion. He says I need to learn "what God is working and doing" in me. When I understand that virtue can only come to me through everyday life, I must learn to see it coming through my everyday life. When I learn that virtue comes only with practice and discipline, I must seek and find disciplines and practices that will address my specific problems and strengths. This requires walking with God. He addresses me as I pray and study as well as when I reflect on my day in the evenings and helps me to find certain holy habits that will indirectly deal with my barriers to virtue.

Lord, it is so nice to see continuity in so many writers who address developing a virtuous life. I like writing about it. Would that I was better at doing it. So many things come through "fits and starts," but you are faithful in driving them deeper into my heart by your grace. Let me not work too hard, forgetting your love and kindness. Let me not be lazy, forgetting your desire for Christ to live in me. May I live up to my words and up to your hopes, Father. Amen.

This reminds me about how I need to practice my personal reflection (Examen) more faithfully. This is one of the great things about reading writers like this and pondering them is that I can more easily see when I have left something important behind. In our family, we sing a song, "You've got to look behind you, before you move on to the next thing" so that we don't forget our things when we go somewhere else. Perhaps I'll being using that for my prayer in the evenings, so I don't leave anything important behind.

Virtue and Keeping Score

Devotional Classics, Theologia Germanica, Excerpts from Theologia Germanica of Martin Luther

"We have those who have been illumined by God and guided by the true Light. They do not practice the ordered life in expectation of reward. . . . They do what they do in the ordered life out of love. They are not so concerned about the outcome, about how a particular behavior will turn out, how soon, and so on. Their concern is rather that things will work out well, in peace and inner ease." (p.148)

I love the description of virtue as an "ordered life." What is virtue except the practice of doing things rightly, that is, at the right time, in the right spirit, and in the right order? Conversely, what is sin other than doing things wrongly in time, spirit, and order?

How can I hope to have an orderly life of virtue without light? Trying to order anything in the darkness is at least challenging, and often impossible. It's like drawing with my eyes closed. Only an approximation may come about, but more likely, a bunch of squiggles and lines that make no sense. Such is virtue without the Light of God shining in the person doing it.

And yet, even with the Light, my virtue looks a lot like the squiggles of a two-year old. My hand is not practiced and my eyes do not know what they see. This area is probably one of my worst. Virtue and holiness do not have much natural appeal to me. They speak of rigidness, discomfort, and the danger of self righteousness. But this writer speaks of love.

Such love begins with God who loves me, of course, but continues on to become a responding love in me. As my awareness and experience of God's love for me grows, so does my love for him. In loving God, I find a love for his words and his deeds. This love of God's righteous deeds is where virtue comes from. Just as many believers can "love God's words," I can also learn to "love God's virtue, his good deeds."

Such love of virtue becomes most apparent when the outcome of virtue is not so important. Loving to do what is right because it is right, because it is from God is the heart of virtue. This idea of letting go of the outcome, whether reward or improvement, is powerful to me.

I have practiced many (most, all?) virtues because I am eager for the outcome. It was to improve, impress, receive blessing. Measuring outcome is what all human achievement is based upon. In the sense that such outcome can guide me deeper into virtue through perfecting my action and enlivening my love for God, it is not a bad thing. But it quickly distracts me from the worship of God, who orders and sustains everything, and whose commandments create and sustain all life as well. Such love and worship is the wellspring of true virtue.

So I love the idea of virtue as an orderly life that God has created, orders, and sustains by means of the creation itself and his commands. Virtue becomes an art of living well in this life, like knowing and practicing dance steps for a dance. When the steps are hard, I know I am facing places where my desires have misguided my bodily actions, and where practice and strengthening are needed.

Lord of heaven, let me love your presence. Let me also love your virtue, your righteousness. Let the order and beauty of such a life infuse my mind with wonder and pleasure, my heart with plans and determination, and my soul with longing and hunger. Help me let go of results in favor of pleasing you and enjoying virtue for itself. Amen.

Doing right and well could really become a joy if I can "simply enjoy the doing of the task without looking at the 'scoreboard.'" (p.152) The only score I want to keep is the increase of peace in my life coming from the knowledge and love of a God of virtue.

Prayer and Ignorance

Devtional Classics, Jean-Nichlas Grou, Excerpts from How to Pray

"Every Christian ought to say to the Savior as humbly as [the disciples]: 'Lord, teach us to pray.' Ah! if we were only convinced of our ignorance and of our need of a Teacher like Jesus Christ!" (p.138)

What else is there except this as my beginning and my constant reminder? I must first be convinced of my own ignorance in prayer. The best of whatever "methods" there may be underscore this fact and hammer it into my soul. I need the Teacher to instruct me or I will find I am not praying at all, but speaking empty words like people who are speak only to themselves or some idol.

How can I develop this sense, this attitude of complete dependency on the Lord as I pray? I like the phrase "convinced of our ignorance." It means that when I come to pray, there is not a question of whether something I do will reach God or make me better. I am groping in the dark, whether I feel self-composed or frantic. Like entering a dark room without a light, my prayers must enter enter the darkness of my incapacity to reach God, or I have not entered the right room. It reminds me of Ex. 20:21: "The people stayed at a distance, while Moses approached the thick darkness where God was."

Prayer is not about making things happen, but about meeting God. The first rule is meeting him in the darkness. Prayer is stretching out my hand and knowing that God will take it. I must accept the darkness, my ignorance, and not be afraid to grope around a bit. Prayer that is too habitual or predictable is one that remains at a distance from God. To approach God, I must enter the darkness of my own emptiness, limitation, and ignorance.

Yet, there is great comfort in this. Darkness is not comforting, but knowing that God will take my hand is. Knowing the Lord will be found in this darkness makes the darkness desirable and even pleasing. I begin to enter the place of prayer with expectation that he will meet me. I do not have to have all my prayers "right" or all my feelings in order; I find that God is close in my ignorance.

Lord, I do not want to stand far off from you because I am afraid of what you might do or what you might not do. Distance reveals my anger and fear. Call me to draw near to you in the darkness of my ignorance so I may find the light of your face. You are in the darkness, but you are not darkness, but light! I am blind every time I come, but you make me see all the time. Remind me today. Amen.

The alternative is all to familiar: heaped-up empty phrases. Me talking with no one answering. Routine and ruts. Confusion and emptiness. This is why my prayer must have some time and preparation. I need to remember what I hope for and not fear what I may have to go through. It's always worth it. I want to retain the wonder and dependency of one who is ignorant each time I pray. Let the groping be my reminder rather than a frustration.

Prayer and Love Yet Again

Devotional Classics, Jean-Nicholas Grou, Excerpts from How to Pray

"Love God and you will always be speaking to him. The seed of love is growth in prayer. If you do not understand that, you have never yet either loved or prayed." (p.140)

The phrase "Love God and you will always be speaking to him" lacks a lot of definition and specifics, but I believe it captures the heart of prayer. This idea has nourished a number of people as they seek God, especially when they find that their words fall so short of what lives within them. In one way, this seems to say loving God is speaking to him.

This is not so mysterious, nor even so incredibly mystical if I think about it. The supportive presence of a loved one in the room with me can be more than someone speaking words of comfort in dark days. When someone watches and delights deeply in something I do or say, I can often tell how deeply they are touched by little they say. Being overcome by feeling or passion seems to move me beyond words.

What is intimidating about this idea of loving God is that I cannot control my feelings directly. Yet I have found that my thoughts influence my feelings. True to what Dallas Willard writes about in Renovation of the Heart, thoughts and feelings are inextricably joined, so I can control my feelings indirectly by changing the direction of my thoughts. This is why pondering and delighting in choice phrases from the Bible is great preparation for prayer. The redirection of my mind toward the things of God inflame feelings of love, awe, joy, etc. in God.

I find that some thoughts are so powerful, they can nourish my heart with love and joy and peace for weeks on end. I do not have to constantly be trying to have new thoughts and new feelings when I am still feasting richly on one that carries me through the days. I remember on bit of advice about this, but I can't remember who said it. When reading and pondering the Bible, stop at the place where you are heavily affected or drawn to and let it do its work before moving on. This has helped me to truly delight in the word of God - scripture that truly speaks to me. Such words or phrases become a "watchword" for the day or longer.

When prayer becomes dry and empty, it is not a reason to panic, however. But if I learn to accept prayer as dry and empty, then there is reason to panic. Although everyone goes through dry "wilderness" times of prayer, those who love God ache and call out to him, while those who do not love God or understand it continue on in formality or just give up.

As prayer grows - and in my experience prayer grows deeper, affecting me more and more inwardly - it seeds a love for God that sprouts into my everyday existence. If prayer does not yield this kind of love for God, and eventually for other people, it is mere formality.

Another way to understand "Love God and you will always be speaking to him" is to say when I am loving God, then I will always be speaking to him. This is true as well, since love expresses itself. When someone is with me, even in silence, their face and hands can show love and will show love even if they are not speaking. Often, they will speak as well - maybe not a lot, but enough.

And so, I find that another way to hold the love of God before myself is to speak to him throughout the day. Often the phrases will be simple. It may be "Help" or just "Lord." It may be "Be near to me" or "Have mercy." I may talk to him about my kids or sing to him what's on my heart. Obviously this is akin to what I wrote about above, and for good reason. Those whom I love have my attention, my feelings, as well as much of my words. I share with them.

Silence can come from awe and deep feeling. It can also come from boredom, confusion, or derision. Silence that expresses love starts from the inside as calmness and serenity or at least a desire to not hurt someone. It pours out into my life. Whereas silence that is not love is imposed from the outside while my innards churn or boil with worry, anger, or lust. It seems to me that such silence comes from fear or anger. The words that eventually come from silence quickly determine its origin and purpose.

This is all to say that prayer that does not involve my heart - the very center of my being - is not really prayer at all. Words and feelings that move me toward God with love, these are prayers. I may begin by feeling "flat," but often I find I warm up to him and long to hear from him as I go on. It may be the most important attitude is hope, an anticipation of God's meeting me and the love that comes from that meeting.

Lord, today is one of those days in which I struggle to meet with you. Depression has crept in and I have sought distractions instead of your presence. I find on days like this that I resist speaking to you because I do not believe your love for me. I worry that you will be like so many people I meet, tying heavy burdens, placing them on my back, and not lifting a finger to help me. Pull me out of this mire. Let me see you for who you really are.

For as high as the heavens are above the earth,

so great is his love for those who fear him;

as far as the east is from the west,

so far has he removed our transgressions from us;

as a father has compassion on his children,

so does the Lord have compassion on those who fear him. (Ps. 103:11-13) Amen.

The mechanics of prayer are not so difficult as the spirit of prayer. I do not find that actually praying is so hard as actually wanting to pray. Fear and anger are deeply embedded in my life from years of being both the giver and receiver of them. Love does not come naturally, but flows from a continual diet of learning and remembering God's goodness and his loving deeds. Today I need to remember that God is not a burden, but a redeemer, come to set me free.

Prayer and Exercising Faith

Devotional Classics, Martin Luther, Excerpts from Table Talk, etc.

"We should pray by fixing our mind upon some pressing need, desiring it with all earnestness, and then exercise faith and confidence toward God in the matter, never doubting that we have been heard." (p.133)

This matter of faith in prayer seems difficult. Is it merely positive thinking? Mind over matter? Perhaps much can be learned from this popular idea, if it is really taken seriously. What I mean is that mind is over matter because the Mind preceded Matter. God's intent and word preceded Creation of all kinds of matter - earthly and heavenly.

From a series of talks given by Dallas Willard (The Kingdom of God), I see that if I am to understand prayer in faith, I first must understand that everything exists because God made it and he made it be his words. "By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God's command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible." (Heb. 11:3)

This existence I have was not only created by God through his words, but is sustained and ordered by his word. "He is before all things, and in him all things hold together." (Col. 1:17) "Your word, O Lord, is eternal; it stands firm in the heavens. Your faithfulness continues through all generations; you established the earth, and it endures." (Ps. 119:89-90) So words make things happen in this universe. Certainly God's words, but also words with faith in God.

Faith or believing begins with understanding, but goes far beyond it. Believing accepts and adopts an understanding and makes it one's own. Faith is not a distant thought, but an urgent reality that presses in on me. I cannot try to believe something; I simply do or don't. My life illustrates my faith. People of faith in the Bible are often desperate people, willing to do anything to touch Jesus or beg from him.

I guess prayer, as I have often defined it, seems to remove this element of desperation often because "God is always there." Somehow this assurance can remove faith from my prayer. How? While there are no special rituals or feelings or words to make God do what I want him to, for my faith in God to be active may take more than just assuming that "God's there," it takes some form of longing and communication.

If prayer is more like a conversation and less like a slot machine, there has to be some way of finding that I have truly connected with God when I am speaking. No doubt he is "there," but are we really talking and sharing? When I ask my kids to do something, I need to be assured there is connection, or I might as well be "talking into the air."

So this faith transcends the "mind over matter" principle because it has to do with a relationship far more than with the internal state of my thoughts and feelings. Certainly, my thoughts and feelings will be fully involved, but their object will not be only be what I desire and how to get it, but who I am asking. His love is the most important part, but also I need to have a better sense of who I am asking and what he can really do.

How does one "exercise faith. . . toward God" as Luther says? Partly by just doing it. But there may be some other kinds of exercises that may increase faith, like weight lifting can enable better ability in a sport. One thing can be listening to God regularly. He tells me things that will increase my faith. Another is studying and remembering the Bible, not by "naming it and claiming it," but by reading each account as what could happen to anyone - even me! Another is to ask for faith from God. Reading any Gospel can bring many ideas of how to increase faith, since that is what Jesus came to do and what the Gospels are for. "These are written that you may believe. . . ." (Jn. 20:31)

Lord, would that I had the faith as big as a mustard seed! I see that faith is given more than developed, but I also see that you long to give faith to me and I need to learn how to receive it. I am slow to understand and do not see you rightly. May I work and act in faith and see your love and power revealed. May I stop trying to believe and begin to exercise my faith both directly and indirectly. Amen.

Really, life provides a perfect place for faith to grow. There are moments that call (or scream) for faith, for me to speak or act on the assumption that God really does care and that he really can do anything. There are moments in which I can work on faith indirectly by waiting on God, delighting in the scriptures, or repenting of my unbelief. God grant me the focus to seek such faith!

Dead Prayers

Devotional Classics, Martin Luther, Excerpts from Table Talk, etc.

"'Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks find, and to him who knocks the door will be opened. Which of you, if his son asks for a loaf of bread will give him a stone? Or is he asks for a fish will give him a snake? If you, then, who are evil know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him?' (Mt. 7:6-10)

"Are we so hard of heart that these words of Jesus do not move us to pray with confidence, joyfully and gladly? So many of our prayers must be reformed if we are to pray according to these words. To be sure, all of the churches across the land are filled with people praying and singing, but why is it that there is so little improvement, so few results from so many prayers? The reason is none other than the one Jesus speaks of when he says, 'You ask and you do not receive because you ask amiss' (Ja. 4:3) For where this faith and confidence is not in the prayer, the prayer is dead. (p.134)

The very last sentence is what grabs me. The possibility of a prayer being dead fills me with alarm. And yet, how else could Luther or I explain what we see around us? God promises lavish provision and, even in churches, there is great need and misery.

Not that I would expect a life without difficulty or suffering in this present evil age, but I would expect a people joyful and glad with confidence in their prayers and in their worship, as Luther writes. It is not the lack of "answered prayers" that makes me think prayer is dead, but that for all the answers received there is so little improvement and so few results in churches. (These are not my words only, but most people and many sociological studies reflect the same sort of thing.)

My most remarkable dead prayers have been ones where God answers, but I am looking the other way entirely. My prayer is not dead because God is unwilling to answer because I have not gritted my teeth and held my breath in "faith" in just the right way. My prayer is dead because it slips away into forgetfulness because I did not really care much about it and have moved on to some favored distraction or because I am looking for a particular kind of answer and God has something else, something better in mind.

This can be seen plainly in the prayers of the Jewish people in the first century. They were oppressed by the Roman government and prayed earnestly for deliverance. God sent them deliverance from Rome and so much more in Jesus, but because it was not in the way or time they expected, they refused his provision. Could this be the same problem for the churches that Luther talks about? Perhaps this lack of confidence and faith creates a blind rush towards our desires and away from God's intended provision. It's probably why James continues in 4:3 with how we ask amiss: "that you may spend what you get on your pleasures."

How many times have I been the same way? Do I pray for bodily pains to leave me without looking for sins that may be causing them? Do I look for fellowship with other people without practicing the gifts he's given me to build up such a fellowship? Do I pray for other people to be kinder and easier to live with when I am unwilling to become the very thing I pray for? Perhaps many prayers lie on the floor if my life, dead from misuse and resistance to God's loving provision more than remaining unanswered.

Perhaps many of God's answers to my prayers do not simply scratch an itch I have, but cure the disease of which I am only concerned with a symptom. Perhaps God's answers always go a bit deeper than I would like into the needs of my life. Yes, there will be praise and "Amens" for God's great deeds and kindness. Perhaps I also need a bit of reflection and action related to God's answer to benefit fully.

Lord, I see that many of the things you want to give me, I have refused for a long time. My prayers were dead because my trust in you was lacking. I have become like the ungrateful servant who buried his talent because he did not trust his Master. How have I buried my prayers and your answers like this, out of mistrust? Too often I am unwilling to trust and obey, so your answers pass me by or at least lie unused. Forgive me. Lead me aright. Amen.

This reminds me that it is dangerous to pray and not live out the prayer. I find it easy to pray and forget rather than let my prayers move out into my life. As I remarked from Douglas Steere a while back, "If we ignore these leadings, they poison future prayer." I do not think God leads me into unceasing frantic activity (that I get from myself and other people), but I find prayer changes me and encourages me to change, sometimes in small ways, sometimes in large ways. To leave such changes unimplemented inoculates me against hearing God later.

Faith moves me to implement answered prayer like a man who sells everything to get a field with buried treasure in it. Following my own desires moves me to dread and resist God's direction given in prayer and so improvement and results in my life with God become scarce. When the answers are not what I hoped for or seem absent, I need to reflect on God's goodness and love and set aside my fears of losing things I don't really want anyway.

Prayer and Petition

Devotional Classics, Martin Luther, Excerpts from Table Talk, etc.

"Prayer is made vigorous by petitioning; urgent by supplication; by thanksgiving, pleasing and acceptable." (p.133)

I do find it easy to muddy the waters of some things that have simple explanations. Ina n effort to go "deeper" I am sometimes merely confusing, even to myself. Prayer is a subject that easily goes awry in this way.

Prayer is asking. Luther has some straightforward advice about how to ask in a good way so my prayer will reach God and so God can reach me.

"Petition is stating what we have at heart." Luther says to bring life to prayer, my prayers must be specific and personal, addressing my real concerns and worries. I find a great help to petition is "talking normally" with God, avoiding ideas and hopes that are "too lofty" and sticking with present needs and desires. The normal talk seems to keep things real for me.

"In supplication we strengthen prayer and make it effective by a certain form of persuasion." To aid in supplication, I find two things helpful. One is a regular diet of Psalms to remind me of the many facets of God's kindness, love, mercy, and power. Another is actual positioning of my body. Kneeling, opening or closing eyes, or lifting my hands can greatly enhance this supplication that Luther speaks of.

I do not think that supplication makes God do anything as if words and motions were some sort of incantation. Rather I find that using all my mind and all my strength in loving God reflects the sort of faith I have in him as a personally interactive God, having conversations with me, rather than just receiving my requests like an order at a fast food restaurant. I try to give prayers as I think they are received by him, with thoughtfulness and passion, a divine urgency.

Finally, thanksgiving. When thanksgiving surrounds my prayer, I feel peace about what God is doing and will do about my prayer. For thanksgiving, I will often recall how God has been faithful to me, someone close to me, or even to someone in the Bible. His faithfulness in the past enables me to thank him in the present even when I do not yet have what I have asked for.

Thanksgiving makes all requests pleasing. A request from a grateful child contrasts from a spoiled child in its thanksgiving. When gratitude is missing, I find that a new request is made before the last provision has even been enjoyed. The eye is on getting more, rather than on enjoying what has been given. This has its mirror in my prayers as well. I try to stuff something else in my mouth while I'm still chewing on what God gave me before.

So thankfulness works best for me when I pause and think of how God is good. Reflection is good fuel for thanksgiving. Just a few moments of silence before I begin to ask for things can really frame my whole prayer into love and adoration instead or whining and complaining.

Lord, would that I were more simple in my heart before you. My thoughts get in the way sometimes. They are important, I know, but not as important as just coming to you when I need something, knowing that you are dying to help me in any way you can. Let my thoughts bring me closer to you, so a childlike heart will be natural for me. Amen.

Really just asking more would help me a lot. I think a lot, praise a lot, but forget to ask for much. To this Luther writes, "If you do not know or recognize your needs, you are in the worst possible place. The greatest trouble we can ever know is thinking that we have no trouble for we have become hardened and insensible to what is inside us." (p.134)

Prayer and the Hidden God

Devotional Classics, John Ballie, A Dairy of Private Prayer

"Almighty and eternal God,
You are hidden from my sight,
You are beyond the understanding of my mind:
Your thoughts are not as my thoughts:
Your ways are past finding out." (p.127)

The world around me makes God plain to see. His willingness to answer prayer encourages me. His instruction moves me to greater obedience and love. Who is more present than God?

And yet, he is hidden. I have heard a good deal these days about God's scarcity. For many people he seems to have disappeared, even in the moment of their greatest need. This wilderness may change my life profoundly, but often the wilderness comes not from God's making, but my own. I isolate myself from him.

Yet the One who is "hidden from my sight," as Baillie puts it, is not usually hidden due to some "dark night of the soul" nor even because of my own sins. God's secrecy comes from his greatness and my own limitation in understanding him. God "hides" behind the smallness of my mind, and more, the smallness of my heart.

The famous passage Isaiah 55:7 "For my ways are not your ways, and my thoughts are not your thoughts" is preceded by his unfathomable pity on me: "Let him call on the Lord and he will have mercy, and to our God, for he will freely pardon." The passage culminates in a glorious promise, "You will go out with joy and be led forth with peace. The mountains and the hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands."

So God sandwiches his thoughts between mercy and promise. In this way, my thoughts are a million miles away from his. I neither easily accept these thoughts and ways as ones that he could possibly have for me, nor do I imitate these sorts of thoughts often in my own life. Hidden in this passage is God's desire: that my thoughts would be his thoughts and my ways his ways.

I believe it was the Cloud of Unknowing that says that I cannot understand God with mind, nor will I ever, but I can understand God perfectly in my heart through love. I long to understand "what wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul!" Baillie continues this prayer in this way:

Yet You have breathed Your Spirit into my life:
Yet You have formed my mind to seek You:
Yet You have inclined my heart to love You:
Yet You have made me restless for the rest that is in You:
Yet You have planted within me a hunger and thirst that make me dissatisfied with all the joys of earth. (p.128)

I have many days when I wonder how God can put up with me. I can't even put up with myself. His pity and promise make my life something precious, worthy of the greatest speculation and wonder. God's hiding place may be for my growth or due to my hardness, but perhaps I am not looking high enough: "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." I look beneath him to ways and thoughts that do not befit One so loving and kind.

Lord, let me say, "I lift my eyes up to the mountains" (Ps. 121) because I seek thoughts and ways that are higher and better than my own. I do not think much of myself. I am not worth much in myself, ruined and wayward. The high price paid for me determines my worth. Today, let me lift my eyes up to that mountain, Golgotha, where my help comes from and where your thoughts and ways were revealed. Let me hear you say: "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what I have prepared for you" (1 Cor.2:9) as I cling to that cross. Amen.

On days like today, I need to find a way to have the Lord's thoughts before me. Pondering is good. Prayer is better. But often the words cannot find their way into my heart. They stay before me, but out of reach. I feel lonely. Perhaps a trip to the cross is what I need; the image may help the idea to sink in deeper.

Prayer and Peace and Thankfulness

Devotional Classics, John Baillie, A Diary of Private Prayer

"O God my Creator and Redeemer, I may not go forth today except You accompany me with Your blessing. Let not the vigor and freshness of the morning, or the glow of good health, or the present prosperity of my undertakings, deceive me into a false reliance upon my own strength. . . . Only in continued dependence on You, the Giver, can they be worthily enjoyed." (p.127)

"No king is saved by the size of his army;

no warrior escapes by his great strength.

A horse is a vain hope for deliverance;

despite all its great strength it cannot save.

But the eyes of Lord are on those who fear him,

on those whose hope is in his unfailing love." (Ps. 33:16-18)

Well-being is in the greeting of Paul's letters and also in the Jewish greeting of Shalom. It is the heart of peace. It is at the heart of what Julian of Norwich's words, "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well." This well-being is located in the "peace that passes understanding" (Php. 4).

My well-being, my peace is often located within pleasant turns of events. Narrow escapes and triumphant victories can heighten my sense of well-being into a sense of exultation, joy, and power. I suppose this is why various forms of amusement can help calm me. Even in the midst of a mundane life full of disappointments, we can have a feeling of triumph from a movie, or a sport (not so much my thing), or a video game (much more my thing). Somehow this leaves a shadow of well-being in my life.

This peace is part of the blessing that only God can give. I can pretend to have peace and approximate its presence through various means of food, entertainment, etc. But it is a shallow peace quickly dispelled when real trouble comes. Perhaps this is one of the best indicators of "depth" in my spiritual life: the thin ribbon of entertainment and escape is quickly cut in difficulty, while the cords of real peace are stretched, but not broken.

I am glad that God gives so much more good than bad in life. The proof of it is in the gospel. No evil can swallow up that goodness. It makes all other gifts worthy of enjoyment instead of dependence. They become evidences of God's love and grace, but not sources of his grace. I guess that is why I am not to depend too much on "earthly things," because of my propensity to depend on them.

So thankfulness in prayer is important. Thankfulness for all the wonderful things that I enjoy and take for granted. Thankfulness for things that are pleasant surprises. It can help keep my eyes on the Giver more than the gifts. It can keep my hope on the Unfailing Lover and Sustainer rather than on the means used to save me. It helps, but often the thanks stops short of true dependence and true hope in the Lord.

I find my peace is tested and proved not by how much I give thanks for the good things, but how much I give thanks in all things. I don't think I need to be thankful for pain and suffering exactly, but thankful that such things can lead me to deeper peace and joy if I walk through them with God. James says that we can consider them "pure joy" because of what they yield - perseverance and maturity.

It seems that thankfulness that yields deep peace is accompanied by worship, prayer, generosity, etc. There is no such thing as a truly thankful miser or thief. Consequently, there is no such thing as a peaceful miser or thief either. So my thankfulness is often fairly shallow, and therefore, so is my peace and well-being.

I do not long for a stoic life where I am unaffected by either good or bad and try to achieve some sense of "peace" by saying nothing really matters. Instead, I want my prayers to be full of life and passion, whether happiness or sadness, so that I can have true peace, knowing, seeing, and experiencing God's unfailing love in all things.

Indifference is profound unthankfulness in the face of the wonders and challenges of this life. I can't think of a parent who would enjoy a child who did not care whether they were given a hug or a slap. We would think something was wrong with them. Why else would Jesus give us this example of prayer: "Lead us not into trials, but deliver us from evil." I long for what is good and that is right. The only truly good is God himself.

Lord, let my prayers be filled with a thankfulness that sees gifts as doorways to praise and trials as doorways to a deeper love for you. Let me not neglect the moments that come - good or bad - and forget to enter into your unfailing love. Let my peace be deep as my thankfulness. Let my prayers be offered from my very bowels and not just from my lips because of this sense of thankfulness and well-being. Help me to grow up, Lord. Amen.

I sure have a long way to go in this. I'm afraid that I often act quite spoiled, forgetting much of God's goodness in the face of relatively small difficulties. I've been given much; I shudder to think what might be expected of me. In practice, I want to learn how to bring praise, prayer, celebration, and offerings whenever I am especially thankful or especially hurting. I believe this concrete action may help deepen my thankfulness and help me to enter more easily into that "peace that passes understanding."

Prayer and Entering the Kingdom

Devotional Classics, John Ballie, A Diary of Private Prayer

"I give You thanks for this Your greatest gift.

For my Lord's days upon the earth:

For the record of His deeds of love:

For the words he spoke for my guidance and help:

For His obedience unto death:

For His triumph over death:

For the presence of His Spirit within me now:

I thank You, O God." (p.128)

Today, for these words I am grateful, Father. "I tell you the truth, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again." (John 3:3) May the truth of these words be a light in my darkness, a compass on my sea, a kind word in a crowd of criticism. Amen.

Gently, gently. I want to hold the Lord's words gently. They are not fragile, but they are of such power that to mishandle them can only result in great catastrophe, while to hold them aright will result in great salvation. I long to hold His words as a precious treasure to my heart.

His reply in this passage to Nicodemus is his reply to me. I come thinking that I have him figured out. "We know you are. . . ." The words come so easily. I see Jesus. I read about His life and His deeds. But You say, "No one can see. . ." We are blind. Completely ignorant. I may think I am a great teacher in some area, but here I am a novice, forever a beginner.

Jesus is the door, the way to the Kingdom, the reality of God. I see in Him and through Him the glory and grace of God spilling out onto the earth, onto the lives of those around me, onto myself. This is my only door up and out. He is the only door. There is no other way to view the kingdom. There is no way to peek over the walls or through the cracks. The gate of Jesus is the only way to see the glory of this Kingdom.

The gate is open! Just as Jesus arms are open to all who would come to Him. Only through Him can my spirit be made alive. Until then, I walk in the shadow lands. The kingdom remains a far-off glow without new eyes, new ears, and a new heart. The earth is a cold and unforgiving place without my spirit reborn.

"Unless he is born again." This is His word. This is His promise. That is why He had to send His Spirit. He had to have me and everyone else with Him. He knew I could not enter or even see His abiding place without a new life in me. This is His promise; I will send Him to you, your guide, your comforter, your reminder.

"Unless he is born again." This is His word. This is His warning. I cannot bypass Him. I cannot find another way without Him. I will not even see the Kingdom without His eyes and His life being birthed in me. I may try many other means, but in the end I will be left in the cold with my idols.

This is where prayer takes me: to see the Kingdom, to enter the Kingdom. Hearing the Spirit, though I do not know where He is coming from or where He is going. Prayer is marveling at what God has done and what He is doing now. It is putting my hand to the plow in the field He has given me in this Kingdom and not looking back. It is being homeless in this world, even friendless, but laying my head down next to His. Prayer is the song of pilgrims on the way to their journey's end.

Prayer is response to the wind that blows from God. The Spirit who brings us into the Kingdom of God by igniting each moment with God's presence, God's will, and God's intentions. It always catches me by surprise; I don't know where it comes from or where it is going. But I learn to hear. My ears are reborn too.

Lord, may my prayers be laid at Your feet as tears, as kisses, as fragrant perfume. I am in awe of Your words to me. They come in unexpected ways, teaching me to listen closely instead of trying to figure them all out. Let them be an invitation to Your feast more than a puzzle I try to solve. You meant them in love. Amen.

I see prayer as the dialect of this new Realm. It is the only one that can be spoken or understood. I come as a foreigner. My words are halting. My vocabulary small. The Spirit helps to interpret what I mean and tell me what I hear. The King's Son is my guide and friend. It is a pleasant place and I am only in the doorway. I long to see more of this land as the Spirit opens my eyes.

Prayer and Unlearning

Devotional Classics, Frank Laubach, Excerpts from Letters by a Modern Day Mystic

"I have done nothing but open windows - God has done the rest." (p.119)

I read a book a while ago by a pianist named Chang. The whole book was on how to practice the piano. I confess I did not read all of it, but much of it. It opened my eyes to many things in my spiritual life.

I remember from that book that the thing that takes the most time in practicing piano is the unlearning of what was learned incorrectly. He said that just a little time of playing correctly is worth lots of time time playing incorrectly because, of course, incorrect playing will just have to be unlearned.

So Laubach points out that a life of intimate prayer with God is, in a way, easy. God is near. God is willing. I need only reach out to take his hand. Open the window and God will come rushing in.

Perhaps the reason it is not that easy is that I have to spend so much time unlearning things. I have to unlearn my distrust of God. I have to unlearn my worry and anxiety about life. I have to unlearn my desire to have my own way no matter what. The list goes on.

Unfortunately, the process of unlearning doesn't seem to have any short cuts. There is this one encouragement, however. Even a little practice in the right way goes a long way. Sometimes my mood and thoughts provide a favorable wind that make such reliance on God easier. That's good. But when the winds aren't favorable, the effort to sail into his presence takes longer, but teaches me more about God and myself.

I need not wait until I have unlearned all my bad habits before I "play." God is merciful. He meets me in surprising ways even when my prayers are mostly whining and complaining. But such prayers are often more one-sided conversations; I really don't want to hear from God, I just want to get out of trouble or gripe aloud. Sometimes, when I catch myself doing this, I merely call out "Help!" and God comes quickly.

The real power of Laubach's phrase for me is that I need only remain with God, listen to him, walk with him, and he takes me with him. No moment need be a "waste." The window can always be opened and God can always be with me and allow me to work with him. Household chores can be times when God shows me great things, and he often does it through the activity itself. Work can be a time of pruning off dead branches of worry, anger, or anxiety. God is faithfully working around me as well as in me.

The open window for me feels a certain way. It is often the sense of comfort. Sometimes it is expectant anticipation. Sometimes it is amazement. It precipitates from thoughts I have of God, usually from the Bible, or from conversation with other believers or from a song. I hold onto the feeling associated with the thoughts. From that feeling of God's nearness, I am able to concentrate on him and perform many of my regular duties. I have not come far, but the experiences have been exciting and God-filled.

Lord, writing is good. I am glad you have directed me this way. Let my writing open the window to your ever-abiding presence. Only in this friendship with you do I have any hope. Many other things occupy my mind and threaten to get in the way of this open conversation. Help me unlearn them. Amen.

Even now I sense concern for what comes next, that is, worry, trying to take my attention away from the open window and the wind that blows through it. Each moment is precious in God's hands. Let tomorrow take care of itself. The unlearning will be hard, but the reward is great.

Prayer and Dissatisfaction

Devotional Classics, Frank Laubach, Excerpts from Letters by a Modern Mystic

"Two years ago a profound dissatisfaction led me to begin trying to line up my actions with the will of God about every fifteen minutes or every half hour. . . . This year I have started out trying to live live all my waking moments in conscious listening to the inner voice, asking without ceasing, 'What, Father, do you desire said? What, Father, do you desire done this minute?'" (p.120)

This week I had a friend help me see a dissatisfaction in my life. Just for that word this quote stood out to me. But also, I have had a longing for several months to begin this journey toward unceasing prayer.

Dissatisfaction can come from many places, but it's home is in my own heart. I guess I see here that it is a call to be near God, a sense of emptiness in something that I am a part of. At work, I have found my dissatisfaction lessen when I see and understand that I am working for God. When I submit to others for his sake, even jobs or activities I've seen as "stupid" can bring meaning and challenge.

I can see how dissatisfaction brought Laubach to a place where he wanted to submit to God in each moment. The wandering eyes of dissatisfaction keep me from attending to what has been given me to do. I need to ask God frequently what he wants, not because he wants to constantly tell me what to do, but because I am so faithless and childish, not doing what I know I should. My mind wanders and so does my heart.

Dissatisfaction can be an indicator that I have wandered away from the task(s) that the Lord has for me to do. At some point, my pride, lust, or anger took control of the wheel and steered me away from the work God has. The only solution really is to get back to what He has set before me.

What have I wandered from? Submission seems to be Laubach's answer. Not a simpering, whining "devotion" that comes from fear or self-degradation, but a full-bodied devotion that says, "I'll do whatever it takes." Such submission is not a resignation of the will, but a full workout. When I serve ungrateful or indifferent people for the Lord's sake, then even the most trivial task can become the most glorious.

Why? Perhaps the greatest enemy to God in this world is the rebellious human will. The greatest asset to God is the fully submissive human will. When I rebel against God, I rebel against everyone, really. When I serve God, I serve everyone, really. Since I've begun working for the Lord, my bosses are often happier with my work..

Lord, I see dissatisfaction can be an indicator that I am leaving the work you given me undone. Help me to be faithful in the little things so that you can work greater things in me and in those around me. Amen.

I need to be faithful in what has given me to do. When I feel overwhelmed, I believe I have added to what the Lord has asked from me. Living to do "great things" has blinded me to doing things with great love. In this case, the smaller the activity, the better for creating that attitude of submission before God.

Prayer and Christ-likeness

Devotional Classics, Frank Laubach, Excerpts from Letters by a Modern Mystic

"'Moment by moment, I'm kept in his love;
Moment by moment I've life from above;
Looking to Jesus till glory doth shine;
Moment by moment, O Lord, I am Thine.'

It means two burning passions: First, to be like Jesus. Second, to respond to God as a violin responds the the bow of the master. Open your soul and entertain the glory of God and after a while that glory will be reflected in the world about you and in the very clouds above your head." (p. 120)

Sometimes I spend a lot of time rambling. I guess it is comforting in a way. I find great thoughts and try to grab hold of them and put them on paper. Nothing wrong in that.

But sometimes I grow weary of words, especially my own. I long to boil it all down to simple ideas that I can hold onto when my words grow thin. I love this thought: "Be like Jesus." Really there is nothing else to being a Christian at all. Just be like Jesus.

I am a child. I dress up my words. I dress up my actions (a little). I dress up my face with the proper expressions. I try to look like Jesus. Like a child with a favorite baseball player, I get the same hat, the same shoes, the same bat, but for some reason I don't ever hit like him or catch like him or pitch like him. I'm just dressed up.

"Well, of course," people say, "he's GOD. How can you expect to be like him?" Granted. However, the Lord Jesus commanded us to be like him. "My command is this: love each other as I have loved you." (Jn.15:12) Nothing fancy, just impossible.

Yet, how good a teacher would Jesus be if all he did was spout impossibilities? How helpful would it be if you asked someone "What should I do if I fall down and break my leg?" and they answered "Just get up and start walking again?" Some see much of his teaching as only for another age or time or mode of existence. Well, then the answer to the above question would be "You'll die and then your leg will be better." Not much help.

I am talking about something more that Christian perfection. It's not just a matter of never doing anything wrong. I've already messed that up entirely. It's a matter of passion. If I throw Christ-likeness into the realm of the impossible, will it not also be in the realm of the undesirable or at least the unattainable? Really, putting off Christ-likeness is a serious misunderstanding of eternal life. If I cannot being to be like Christ now then why would I want to later unless I am not myself at all, but rather another being that desires to be perfect like Jesus?

Such growth in Christ can only come "moment by moment" as the old hymn says above. I do not experience life any other way. Being like Jesus cannot be merely wishful thinking like wanting to win the lottery or wishing I was a master on the piano. Wishing must move to real plans, real passion, and real intention to become real at all. Otherwise, it is a fantasy.

Prayer is the birthplace of these plans, passions, and intentions. We ask (beg) and long for it before it starts to become real in our lives. Laubach says, "Open your soul and entertain the glory of God and after a while. . . ." Prayer is at its best an open soul. I must remain open to catch God's glory. Although he will take every opportunity to fill me and change me, it will take time, not because of God's unwillingness, but because of my resistance and dullness.

Lord, let me open my soul to you. Let me open my life to you. I don't want to live a mere fantasy. I want to be like Jesus. I lay my life at your disposal. I know that what Jesus taught is true and is possible. I can be like him. I want to spend the rest of my life in eternity doing just that. Amen.

This is the heart of being a Christian (meaning "little Christ" or maybe Christ, Jr.). What else is there? It is not a merely theological statement, or a moral statement, or a political statement, or a social statement. It is a statement about the life he has promised us: a life like Jesus'. It is the heart that is missing in so much of my Christian experience. I am encouraged to try to be like Jesus outwardly without trying to be like Jesus inwardly. To this Jesus says, "First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside will also be clean." (Mt.23:26)

Prayer and Will

Devotional Classics, Evelyn Underhill, Excerpts from The Essentials of Mysticism

"The determined fixing of our will upon God, and pressing toward him steadily and without deflection; this is the very center and the art of prayer. The most theological of thoughts soon becomes inadequate; the most spiritual of emotions is only a fairweather breeze. Let the ship take advantage of it by all means, but not rely on it. She must be prepared to beat windward if she would reach her goal." (p. 115)

Underhill has just explained that "the transition from inaction to action unfolds itself in a certain order. . . . First, we think, then we feel, then we will." (p.114) She does not denigrate thinking in prayer, she only says that "reason comes to the foot of the mountain; it is the industrious will urged by the passionate heart which climbs the slope." (ibid) Feeling is dynamic, unlike thought, and moves me to something, but it does fluctuate.

The action of the will, which Underhill describes as "intention," is what keeps prayer and other activities going in my life. My will can keep moving even when I am "mentally dull" or "emtionally flat." My will cannot continue with the complete absence of thought or feeling, but it can continue on even when no new thought or moving feeling exists.

The will seems to be a sort of spiritual inertia. It keeps me going along the lines of my thoughts and feelings. Intention reaches out into the future from a very definite past decision. Underhill identifies this inertia as the center and art of prayer. The picture of sailing is very compelling for me. Sometimes the winds are favorable, sometimes not, but intention sets the course.

I see my will at work in sinful ways. I can work "steadily and without deflection" toward things I want very much, even if my mind and feelings are fluctuating. The force of habit and intention will keep moving me forward off that cliff. In the same way prayer can continue to move forward under the force of habit and intention. Perhaps this is a way to describe unceasing prayer.

Such a decision is hard to come to. There seem to be so many good reasons not to pray - perhaps the foremost reason being a perceived lack of efficacy in prayer. It just doesn't seem to do a lot to pray. Such is the voice of having little faith. I can see my half-heartedness in prayer more easily through the model of inertia. If the "push" of thought and feeling is off-center or weak, then the resultant intention will not carry me far into prayer.

Lord, I marvel at how much your Spirit helps me in my inner life of thought and feeling so that my will, ever so weak) can be aligned with yours. I know you carry me more often that I can imagine. But I also know that you have commanded that my whole self be aligned with you in love. I cannot move this ship of devotion toward you without your winds and without your guidance. Without you I am dead in the water. But you have placed me at the helm. May I obey your directions prayer-ward. Thank you for never being far off. Amen.

Underhill says it well when she talks of dead times of prayer: "On such occasions it is notoriously useless to try to beat ourselves up to a froth: to make ourselves think more deeply or make ourselves care more intensely." Continuing on is the hardest work possible some days, but I need only wait and not divert my attention from God. In those moments I become most aware of the struggle of faith: Will I wait for him or not? Will I trust him or not? I find that the action of will often brings the thoughts and feelings around, pulling them out of their inactivity. Actually, when prayer is hard, it is usually not that my thoughts and feelings are dead; they are just occupied elsewhere and need to be called back. So my will is not only pushed by them, but pulls them where it has been pushed to.

Prayer and Holiness

Devotional Classics, Evelyn Underhill, Excerpts from The Essentials of Mysticism

"[Prayer] entails, then, a going up or out from our ordinary circle of earthly interests." (p.113)


A number of years ago I gave a a couple of sermons on Old Testament (OT) worship. It was hard to get a handle on that. I boiled it down to Sabbath and Sacrifice. Sacrifice in the OT seemed to me to have two purposes: to make the person "clean" and "holy." Cleanliness was being washed of sin and ceremonial uncleanliness. Holiness was being set apart from the mundane, everyday existence for a special relationship with God.

In this quote from Underhill, I was reminded of holiness. I thought of holiness as being the road to prayer, a way of describing the state of coming near to God. In the Temple, God's presence resided in the Holiest of Holies. A place set far beyond "ordinary" life and people. Access was extremely limited. So prayer was always at a distance in certain ways.

I am to "put on the new self created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness." (Eph 4:22) Holiness becomes part of who I am. I become a Temple, the Holiest of Holies where the presence of God stays. This is God's intention in the new creation of his adopted children.

Practically speaking, I usually equate holiness with righteousness and purity, a lack of sinfulness. This is right and good. They certainly are related. They go together, but I do not see them as synonymous. I think holiness stands on top of cleanliness, but it seems possible to be clean but not holy. In the OT, you could be clean, but still not allowed to enter into the Holiest of Holies because you were not set apart for it. Only the high priest could enter once a year, I believe. And so, I may have a certain level of purity in my life and yet not be lifted out of my "ordinary circle of earthly interests" into prayer.

Perhaps I am messing with a theological term that I should leave alone. I merely had the thought that holiness might be more than an ethereal perfection imputed upon myself by virtue of my confession of Christ as my Savior and my God. That is not small thing. I believe it may be bigger than a single confession, however. Maybe in practice, holiness is more than justification and more than righteous living. Maybe holiness is the practice and habit of placing earthly things aside and placing my heart, mind, soul, and strength upon God above. To be holy is to live the presence of God!

It is dangerous to equate holiness with my personal experience of God's presence. Perhaps it is equally dangerous to equate holiness with God's action of justifying us apart from any personal experience. Is my justification merely in heaven? Is my holiness just a heavenly fact with no earthly consequences? Rather I think that when I was invited into the Holiest of Holies by the loving sacrifice of Jesus, my life with God was stored in heaven and the firstfruits of it can be dispensed on earth. The curtain in the temple was torn down and now I can go in with anyone else who will!

So this true holiness which is built on true righteousness may be the mountain in Hebrews 12:

You have not come to a mountain that can be touched and that is burning with fire; to darkness, gloom and storm;to a trumpet blast or to such a voice speaking words that those who heard it begged that no further word be spoken to them, because they could not bear what was commanded: “If even an animal touches the mountain, it must be stoned.” The sight was so terrifying that Moses said, “I am trembling with fear.”  But you have come to Mount Zion, to the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the living God. You have come to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly, to the church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven. You have come to God, the judge of all men, to the spirits of righteous men made perfect, 24to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel. (vv. 18-24)

Lord, fear has been replaced by awe. Jesus sacrifice has covered me and opened the door to the kingdom. Where the OT prophets and priests only caught a glimpse, I can live daily. This is the wonder of your holiness. I can see it as the mountain where your kingdom resides. Yet I refuse to climb the mountain at times. Perhaps I am like the Israelites long ago who feared even your voice. Sometimes all I can see is "darkness, gloom, and storm." Let me fix my eyes on Jesus who will take me higher up and deeper in, "the Author and Perfecter of my faith." (Heb. 12:2) In his trail I will climb this mountain to you. May my eyes be on him alone as I watch this world fade away. Amen.

I feel that I have touched something profound here. I wish I could explain it better. More, I hope I can live it. May I do as Paul says: "Set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things." (Col. 3:1) This holiness requires that I learn to keep my eyes (as well as all my faculties) focused not on the everyday things, but on God, not as an escape, but so that what is everyday and mundane will be taken as "daily bread" from the Lord and not be the center of my existence.