Prayer in 2022
To my own discredit, I admit that though it has been over 20 years now since I first committed my life to Jesus Christ, I have nothing but a novice’s perspective to offer on the topic of prayer. Over the years, I have (sporadically) read books on prayer, created prayer schedules, started prayer journals, and even prayed to get better at praying — virtually everything but faithfully devoting a daily amount of time to prayer.
I’ve committed to myself and to the Lord that this will be the year that that changes, and so far it has. I wanted to share some things that have become clear to me over the past few weeks. Even though I shouldn’t still be a novice at this point, I recognize that a learner’s perspective can have value for people at all stages of development. Maybe someone reading this who doesn’t pray will be encouraged to start. Maybe someone will relate to my situation exactly. Or maybe even an old pro will be encouraged, or remember something they had forgotten.
First, to be clear about what I’m referring to when I talk about prayer in this context, I should mention that I consider there to be three primary forms of praying:
One is where your main communication with God is when you need to ask him for something or are in a desperate situation. You should definitely talk to God in those circumstances; He encourages it in Scripture. But ideally, that shouldn’t be the only — or even primary — way that a person communicates with God.
The second form is a continuous consciousness of God. In this form of prayer, you feel like God is always present (which is great because He definitely is). He is either often — or maybe even always — perceived and included in your internal dialogue. Your very thoughts feel like prayers because you know that he hears them. This is a great thing. On the surface, it may even seem like this form of prayer would render the third form obsolete. More on that in a moment.
The third form is a time devoted 100% to prayer. Such times may be spontaneous, but there should also be a planned, regular practice. Jesus taught us to pray in this kind of way:
“And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” (Matthew 6:5–6)
I’ve often felt that if I focused on developing the second form of prayer, the third form would either come naturally or be kind of an afterthought. Twenty years of life as a Christian does not seem to have borne out this theory. I think I probably even got it backwards. My thought life, even when I am fully aware that God is present in it, does not naturally tend towards the objectives of prayer. The objectives of prayer are to praise God and give Him thanks, to confess our sins, to meditate on the Scriptures, to know Him and be known by Him, and to make requests to Him on behalf of ourselves and others. I don’t know about you, but my mind does not often do these things naturally.
I believe now that by regular practice of the third form of prayer, I will grow in the second form.
It has frequently been the case that when I do try to engage in the third form of prayer, I feel lost and a little overwhelmed. Everything rushes into my head at once. I think about everyone that I could possibly pray for, and I end up praying for no one. Anything that has been weighing on my mind becomes instantly present, and I feel like I can’t focus. I get caught up thinking about how God already knows what I’m thinking, and it feels strange to articulate them with words in my mind.
This is not surprising though. If I rarely engage in this form of prayer, then what else should I expect to happen? If you haven’t spoken to a friend in months, wouldn’t a similar thing happen if the two of you tried to catch up in the course of a ten minute conversation?
But as I start to engage in deliberate prayer regularly, continuity develops. The things that are most important come to the surface, since I know I’ll have tomorrow or the next day to talk about the less important things. Or maybe I focused on one thing yesterday, so I feel free to focus on something else today. I notice patterns in my prayers, and those guide my attention to where it is most needed. I notice where my faults are, and those guide my prayers for God’s help. I prayed earnestly for this person last time, and now I feel prayer for someone else is more urgent.
The Bible urges us to pray, in virtually every way and at all times. It is a command when you need it to be a command. With any kind of commitment, sometimes you just need to oblige, even when you don’t want to. And I’m committing myself to doing just that. But I hope that I will, more and more, experience the more ideal aspect of prayer, which is an invitation. God, our Creator and Father, invites us to cultivate our inner lives, our character, and our knowledge of Him, as well as to bring our needs to Him. Won’t we accept?