Alice, a friend, recently shared similar thoughts with me:
I grew up believing in a personal God, a God who heard me
when I asked him to bless mommy and daddy, my younger
brother, and me. I believed God cared for me, would protect me
from harm, and loved me even though I sinned. When I prayed,
I asked for forgiveness as well as for guidance and blessings.
When I had a struggle with a friend, I asked for God’s help.
When wondering where to attend college, I sought God’s
guidance. I also learned to praise him for all he had done for me,
for the blessings of friends and family, for food and shelter. Talking
to God was a daily necessity for me. I always prayed before going to
bed each night.
What would disrupt this lifetime pattern of devotion? What
would make me have to reconsider prayer and its meaning in my
life?
My relationship with God suddenly was thrown into turmoil.
A four-year-old boy I and hundreds of others had been praying
for, died. This boy had had a malignant tumor the size of a baseball in the side of his neck. He underwent surgeries, radiation,
and severe chemotherapy. I was certain within my spirit that this
boy would be cured and live. His cancer never spread. Kids with
the same cancer in worse stages had lived. And we had God,
whom we trusted to heal him.
In the end, the cancer did not kill him; it was the treatment
that weakened his body and immune system so that he was susceptible to a staph infection. The infection caused him to go into
septic shock, and after days of being in intensive care he died in
my arms. This boy was my son, Daniel.
What good is prayer anyway? This became the ringing question in my mind. I had prayed before for a lot less significant
things than the life of a precious child and had seen these petitions answered. But now, how could I ask for anything again
when all paled in comparison to the life of my son?
I am still on this journey of seeking. My heart is filled with
many emotions. I feel anger at some church groups who make it
seem like God can be rubbed like a good-luck charm and will
perform in any way the Christian prays. I doubt the sincerity of
people who make it seem that because they prayed, God responded as they desired. The focus here is often on the ones
who prayed and not on the all-powerful God who answered.
I study the Scriptures on prayer, and the more I read and
ponder, the more I wonder if the average Christian really knows
much about prayer at all. Perhaps to be in communion with God
means to be still before him and meditate on who he is, instead
of thinking that prayer is coming to him in a huff with all our
requests.
Perhaps for now, prayer for me is looking up in the dark
starry night or at the rising sun and pouring forth my simple yet
heartfelt words: God, you are there, you are sovereign, you are
immortal. I am here, confused, broken, saddened, and extremely
mortal. And for your unchanging love, I am thankful.
Though Alice and her husband David held on to the goodness of
God after their son’s death, there are many for whom such an
experience might end with the complete shipwreck of their faith.
In a sense, this is not surprising. Sometimes life is like the back of a
tapestry where all we can see are the tangled ends on the side
facing us, and we must trust that God sees the beauty and purpose
on the other.
In all of us there is the need
to relate to something or someone
greater than ourselves, a striving to elevate our human condition
above the daily struggle for survival. There is a yearning for a
power that can impart vision, meaning, and purpose to life, provide comfort in times of need, and promise life after death.
Prayer is not the exclusive domain of Christians. Many think that
prayer to anyone other than “their” God is idolatry. This attitude is
typical of the arrogance with which many western Christians regard the rest of the world. But surely God listens to the longings of
all those on earth. As the Psalmist declares, “A broken and contrite
heart, O God, you will not despise.” We cannot be so narrowminded that we fail to appreciate God’s working in other religions
and movements—indeed, in every heart that is open to his spirit.
True, all beliefs are not the same, yet I believe there is something
of the divine in every culture, and that every religion thus has
something to teach us. The Gospel of John assures us that “the true
Light gives light to every person.” And if that is so, I should be able
to learn something of God from every seeker I meet. Rabbi Kenneth
L. Cohen writes that, “when religion causes us to forget that other
people are created in the divine image, when we are prepared to
sacrifice others on the altar of our beliefs, we become fanatics. When
we use religion to make God small like ourselves…we are fanatics.”
Ever since the beginning of the world, people have believed that
turning to a transcendent being would bring blessing and even redemption from their present condition. There was a distinct element of expectancy and acknowledgment of the Supreme Being in
the religions of Sumer and Babylon, as well as ancient Egypt.
Zoroaster was a Persian prophet who in the sixth century B.C.
founded a religion characterized by the worship of an “absolute”
God who was engaged in a cosmic fight against evil. The Greek and
Roman civilizations, too, as pagan as they may seem today, acknowledged a supreme God. Aboriginal or polytheistic religions
such as Hinduism, or pantheistic expressions of spirituality such as
those found among Native American tribes, are also centered
around the idea of a divine presence, and their notions of petition
closely parallel our ideas about prayer.
The need for prayer is recognized in all the major faiths. The
believing Jew prays both when he or she is alone, and in the
community: in personal prayer he or she is one with the people; the
prayers spoken in communion with others are as much personal as
they are communal. The Israelites of old were surrounded by a
pagan society with its idol worship. Therefore, the important
prayer said at the dawn of each new day, the
Shemah,
proclaims
the sovereignty of God and the oneness of everything in his
creation: “Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our god; the Lord is the only one.”
Joe, a doctor I know, finds spiritual truth in the culture and religion of native tribes of the American Southwest. He has a unique
view of our communication with God:
Above the earth is a great circle of prayer into which everyone
from every faith – and those without faith – can contribute, and
from which each can draw strength as well as answers. The beautiful thing is that when you pray, you are connecting with this
tremendous power that comes from all corners of the earth.
In Buddhism there is the eightfold path, reminiscent of the Ten
Commandments. The goal of detachment from worldly desire is attained through discipline of the senses and devotion to Buddha,
who is the manifestation of wisdom and compassion. Silent meditation is valuable, as is “mindfulness,” an inner wakefulness to the
present moment. Thich Nhat Hanh, a widely respected Zen teacher,
writes:
In a real prayer, you ask only for the things you really need,
things that are necessary for your well-being, such as peace, solidity, and freedom – freedom from anger, fear, and
craving…You also touch the wholesome seeds in your consciousness and water them. These are seeds of compassion, love, understanding, forgiveness, and joy.
I have many friends in the Muslim community. They have tremendous conviction and depth of faith. My wife and I have also been in
the Middle East several times, most recently in Iraq, simply in an
attempt to have some small share in the distress of the people
there. Warfare and sanctions have already caused the deaths of
hundreds of thousands of Iraqi children, due to starvation and lack
of medical supplies. My heart aches for them. I found it challenging
how, in their suffering, many Iraqis are becoming more spiritually
attuned and are turning more to prayer. For them and for others
the world over, prayer is the only recourse, for it gives them hope
and strength to carry on in the face of extreme, unbelievable odds.
A friend who has traveled to Iraq numerous times, recently told
me the following story. On one of his visits he had asked an Iraqi
what he could do to help the country and its people, and received a
most unexpected answer. The man told him to pray for those who
have caused the suffering, to pray that when they die, their souls
would go to heaven. “Why?” my friend asked. “So they will be
comforted for all eternity by the poor children of my country who
died by their hands.”
Sadly, for many people,
prayer has become separated
from
the acknowledgment of need; that is, rather than being a heartfelt,
passionate cry from the heart, it becomes a habit or even an empty
ritual. Few things have done more for the demise of living prayer
than institutionalized religion. To use the words of an anonymous
commentator: “What began as a message in Jerusalem became a
philosophy in Greece, a political system in Rome, a culture in Europe, and an enterprise in America.”
Though clearly referring to Christianity, the same applies to
religions of any brand, as the unique expression of belief given to
each person becomes squelched by the powers of conformity,
tradition, and structure. Eventually, faith dies away, choked out by
the weeds of religiosity and hypocrisy.
According to Pierre Ceresole, “The very minimum demand of any
religion worthy of the name is absolute sincerity, not one line more
than we really feel and believe. Article number one of our creed
must obviously be
truth.”
After the First World War, Ceresole
founded international work camps in France in the hope that rebuilding would bring about a measure of reconciliation among the nations.
Later, when he was imprisoned for protesting the Nazi regime, he
wrote, “To be in prison: here indeed is the one place where religion
might be able to make a fresh start at the present time.”
“What a pity,
that so hard on the heels of Christ came the
Christians,” writes Annie Dillard. Not only have we forgotten Jesus’
prayer in John 17, that his disciples may be one even as he and the
Father are one; we have divided up his Word and his Body and
founded churches instead of being one family of his disciples. In
the course of centuries, Christianity has spawned a multitude of
divisions, whose outrageous treatment of each other and of different faiths is an insult to his name. More unbelievers have been
scared away than converted to the faith.
Whatever our affiliation, each one of us will one day stand
alone before God. Then he will not ask: Were you Catholic,
Protestant, Muslim or Jew? but: Did you love your neighbor and
feed the hungry? Did you clothe the naked and visit those in
prison? So many of us who call ourselves Christians tend to be selfassured and self-righteous; yet all too often our words are not
matched by our deeds.
The one overwhelming message that stands at the center of
the New Testament is love in action. And we have examples among
his followers who, despite human failings, spread the gospel of
love. The apostle Paul, who had earlier persecuted the Christians,
became one of Christianity’s most powerful figures. In his prayers
he rarely asks God for those things we most often pray for: safety,
physical healing, material blessings. He is more concerned with
strength of character, wisdom and discernment, love and sacrifice,
personal knowledge of God and spiritual power, courage in spreading the gospel, endurance, and salvation. And unlike many modern
Christians, his prayers are not selfish wishes uttered merely on behalf
of himself or those dear to him. They are said for the whole earth.
How should we pray? Jesus gives us clear advice: he warns us
against false piety and public show, and encourages us to pray privately and simply:
Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done on earth
as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
Forgive us our debts
as we forgive our debtors,
and lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil:
For thine is the kingdom,
the power, and the glory, for ever.
Brief as they are, these twelve lines cover every aspect of human
life! Nothing is left out. People recite it many times a day all over
the world, mostly heedless of the power and blessing in the words.
Through this prayer we enter God’s presence, as when Moses
approached the burning bush and God said, “Take off your shoes,
you are on holy ground.”
Thousands of pages have been written about the Lord’s Prayer. I
believe much of its power lies in its brevity and simplicity. When
we have acted in haste or offended the spirit of love, we need to
ask for forgiveness. In hours of temptation, we need to ask to be
led safely, and we need to be provided for and protected day by
day. Above and beyond that, we need the Holy Spirit to fill our
hearts and change us from our very foundations. For this to happen
we must ask, “Thy will be done.” And we must mean it.
As our prayers go up to God
, so his spirit comes down to us.
Sometimes we may feel a personal response, as though a divine
messenger had delivered a specific answer to need. Then there are
moments of closeness to God, when we feel palpably carried by his
strength, perhaps even by the loving arms of some unearthly being. Such times, though perhaps foreign to the experience of some,
are granted more often than we imagine. They do happen.
Whether as messengers, intermediaries, or divine guides that
shelter and protect us from danger or temptation, angels are mysterious beings used by God for many purposes. In his Letter to the
Colossians, the apostle Paul refers to angels when he says that God
created all things “that are in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or powers –
all things were created through him and for him.”