The Holiness of Prayer

Aren’t we talking to God, folks? Why does it sound like a Sunday school lesson for inattentive students?


Recently I listened to a pastoral prayer and heard the preacher give God a current events lesson about the state of the world, the economy, the unemployment rate and a brief reminder that we still had sick people in our congregation who would appreciate some divine attention. I am not God and I cannot speak for God, but if I were God, and I was in a mood to speak back, I believe I’d say something like “So? You’re thinking maybe I didn’t know?”

Of course God would be far more empathetic than that. I almost said ‘God would be more of a gentleman than that’ but that gets us into the gender issue that stubbornly refuses to go away. No, God has many qualities we rely upon daily, hourly for that matter, and one of the most important must surely be forbearance. Ours is a listening God, one who parses our utterances for what we really mean. I imagine there must be a kind of holy triage going on in heaven that sloughs off the pointless, the inane, the trite. At least I hope so. The ears of God must take quite a beating if there is not.

Perhaps that observation is too anthropomorphic. God does not have ears. But since we do and that’s what we use for communication, it’s difficult to imagine God doing it any other way. For me personally, there is something comforting, reassuring, necessary, about the dependability of a listening God. In my working life I was a counselor and found the most important thing I did was listen. People found their way, not always accurately, not always maturely, maybe not very intelligently, but they found their way with the reassurance they weren’t alone. They knew there was at least one person who would not shun them, become indignant with them, or scold them for their misdeeds. They also knew there was companionship in their Valley of the Shadow.

I have a hunch that is what God provides me: companionship. True, it is more often than not a silent one, and that can be frustrating when I am looking for explicit instructions on what to do. When the preacher speaks of the tragedy at Ft. Hood and asks for divine help, the unspoken message concerns the imponderable nature of evil in a world we had always believed was under divine control. Weren’t we told God would not put more on us than we could bear? We can’t bear this God, this hurts too much. But such prayers are stale and dusty. They’ve been uttered so many times, and no good seemed to come from them.

But bear them we will for bear them we must. Life will go on. Breakfast must be made. Clothes must be washed. Bills must be paid. The shock must be borne. The loss must be mourned. Most important of all, we must go on, whether we feel safe or not, whether we understand or not, whether there is hope or not. That is the prayer God hears. That is the solace of the listening God who never gives up on us.

If we could but put that prayer into words, our congregations would find themselves heard as well. We all have faced the black darkness of uncertainty, confusion, hopelessness. We have made shelters out of words that hide us from our fears. We rationalize, we theorize, we argue with what is by pontificating about what ought to be, all to avoid feeling the insult of our human bondage. Our prayers show it.

How refreshing it would be to have prayers uttered that speak of our true feelings, that come out of our common experience of being human, that surrender the sophistication of being grown-up and mature and speak instead of the sadness, the disillusionment, the puzzlement, the helplessness of our humanity. And then, in hearing our true selves described to a compassionate and caring God, we discover we are not defective, morally corrupt, beyond the forgiveness of a stern and proper God. We are but sheep seeking our shepherd asking for reassurance as we make our way through foreign lands of troubled and discouraging times.

We will no doubt continue to pray for the afflicted, the broken, the hurting, the grieving, the lost. We will continue to remember those who are sick and need healing, those who are unemployed and need hope, those who are in bondage and need release. But we will be praying as fellow sufferers who know that the efficacy of our prayers must also be made manifest by our willingness to trust God and join in the holy office of bringing justice, healing, hope and peace to the world.

Speak truth in your prayers for us, pastor, it’s God you’re talking to and that should always be honored with sincerity. And if you don’t know how to do that, perhaps you need to listen to yourself a little more and imagine what your private prayers must sound like to the One who gave you life and gives it again each morning. For the truth is, pastoral prayers are but a continuation of a previous conversation we were having with God - with our congregations listening in. It would be so nice if we could share what you’re feeling in this holy encounter!

(November 9, 2009)