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)