- March 15, 2012
- 11 Comments
Learning to Pray (Part 1)
One day Jesus was praying in a certain place. When he finished, one of his disciples said to him, ‘Lord, teach us to pray, just as John taught his disciples.” (Lk 11.1)
I want to do a series of blog posts on things we assume we know how to do…like pray, listen, worship. Today – we’ll start with prayer. “Lord, teach us to pray” – what a stunning question from the disciples. They’d been praying their whole life – probably memorized much of the Psalter and other traditional Jewish prayers. It wasn’t like they didn’t know how to pray; they did. But – they wanted to learn how to pray like Jesus from Jesus.
Do we assume we know how to pray? I was in a conversation the other day with a friend and he decried the lack of authentic prayers in the church and in his life. He was upset that we don’t hear genuine, authentic language when we approach God; rather we often hear mumbled religious phrases or our voice takes on a spiritual tone much different than our everyday speaking voice. I’m all for our hearts and minds being connected in prayer. I resonate with his groanings. Authenticity and vulnerability in prayer are a must. We can’t trust God in falsity and pretense because we aren’t really ourselves. So – this is part of it.
But…but…Jesus actually gives us words to pray whether we feel like or want to pray them or not. He doesn’t say, “Let it flow – whatever you’re thinking just talk about that. Make sure you’re honest.” Perhaps he assumes that we can’t be authentic or genuine without a training in trust. Or perhaps he assumes a right heart and genuine desire as prerequisites. I can’t say…but what we do know is that he gives us what is commonly called “The Lord’s Prayer” – very simple, very profound:
Father
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come
Give us each day our daily bread
Forgive us our sins,
for we also forgive everyone who sins against us.
And lead us not into temptation.
Prayer is learning trust, but it’s also training into that trust. We are given a prayer to pray to teach us how to trust. As we submit ourselves to the Lord’s Prayer we learn trust; we are trained by the prayer on how to trust, what to trust, what trust lives like. Prayer is formational in that we must come into it as a disciple (i.e. a ‘learner’). Our posture is one of “teach me how to do this as I do this.”
How easy it is to come to prayer as just an open mic before God! Or – read through designated prayers as though God were a jeanie who needed right words said in the right way to be appeased and roused from his apathy! Prayer is a training in trust. We submit how we’re feeling, what we’re thinking to God in prayer and Jesus gives us words – simple, profound words – to do so.
As an exercise – I invite you to pray the Lord’s Prayer for 30 days. Not as “the right way to pray” or as “this will please God” or telling yourself before/during “I gotta psych myself up to feel/think this stuff before I say it.” No – pray it as a training in trust. As a practice of submission. As an offering your body as a living sacrifice on the mercy of God in Jesus Christ. As a declaration of how you long to desire the reality that the Father has inaugurated in his Son, Jesus.
Next post I’ll share how I pray this genuinely, authentically – how I submit to the words given but allow my real life – where I’m really living – to come through. But for now:
What is your prayer experience like?
Do you feel more comfortable praying written prayers or are you better with extemporaneous ones?
In what ways have you found prayer to be a ‘training in trust’?
Categorized: Prayer, Small Groups, Spiritual Disciplines Tags:
I have a hard time staying focused in prayer; my mind wanders. I tend to stick close to the Lord/disciple’s prayer or I pray through a Psalm or scripture passage, and I’ve even used some liturgical forms such as Morning/Evening Prayer from various traditions. I do find that prayer is a training in trust, especially because my Father knows what I need before I ask him (Matt. 6:8), and I know that the Christ and the Holy Spirit are interceding on my behalf according to God’s will (Rom. 8:26-27, 34; Heb. 7:25). However, I never really thought of it in those terms (“training in trust”) prior to reading this post, so I appreciate the insight. Thanks for sharing.
Dan – Me too, re: focus. The two scriptures you mention will show up in part 2 or 3 as we work out how to “lower the anxiety level” when we pray. Wordiness is often our worst enemy – but – wordiness can sometimes be the only way we can figure to pay attention and not let our minds wander. Great stuff, bro’.
Becky and I have used the Lord’s pray to teach our kids about who God is and what it looks like to trust Him in all things. Simply asking “what do you think this verse means for us?” and allowing the conversation to happen. Incredible passage to help shape their imaginations (and ours) for “training in trusting”. Thanks bro. Paul
That’s a great practice, Paul. Thanks for sharing. I want to discuss another practice in praying the Lord’s Prayer as well – in Part 2 or 3 or 4 – about not just “what does this mean for me” but “as I pray this what is going on in me?” Meaning + experience…been thinking a lot on that lately.
I have always had a hard time praying. I think it’s because I have been trained to approach prayer as a strenuous practice that always begins with me. It’s up to me to make sure my heart is right. I have to muster something up, draw from the well deep within my soul, to find the right words that will please God. I suck at that.
That is why I have found such freedom in the Lord’s Prayer, the Psalms, and other written prayers, where someone else starts the praying, giving me something to trust and submit to. Someone else is leading, and I can simply follow. Written prayers have been a huge relief to me.
At the risk of blog-bombing your post, here is a quote from Eugene Peterson that captures well my prayer experience. This comes from his book Answering God:
“When we take our place in a worshiping congregation we are not in charge. Someone else has built the place of prayer; someone else has established the time for prayer; someone else tells us to begin to pray. All of this takes place in a context in which the word of God is primary: God’s word audible in scripture and sermon, God’s word visible in baptism and eucharist. This is the center in which we learn to pray. We do not, of course, remain in this center: lines of praying radiate and lead us outwards. From this center we go to our closets or the mountains, into the streets and the markets, and continue our praying. But it is essential to understand that the prayer goes from the center outwards; if we suppose that it proceeds inwards from the convergence of praying individuals we are at cross-purposes with the praying experience of Israel and the church.
“The benefit that flows from this is enormous. It more than compensates for the painful (at least is seems so) sacrifice of initiative: we are rescued from the tyranny of our feelings.
“Feelings are the scourge of prayer. To pray by feelings is to be at the mercy of glands and weather and digestion. And there is no mercy in any of them. Feelings lie. Feelings deceive. Feelings seduce.
“To suppose that our emotions in any way give us reliable evidence of the nature or quality of our life with God is to misinterpret them. They are wonderful and necessary and glorious…But they are not prayer.
“If we insist on maintaining the initiative in prayer, praying when we feel like it according to what we feel we need, we take on a psychic burden that is too much for us. Finally we slump to the ground in exhaustion and give it all up. After a few hours or days or weeks, usually out of guilt, we get up again and give it another try. That is why there is so much intermittent prayer–people who pray in spurts and then lapse, leaving behind them abandoned schemes, failed methods, but always on the lookout for another that will keep them faithful in prayer…If we insist on conducting our lives of prayer as a private enterprise, we take on a monumental task that we have no adequate means for carrying out. But the liturgy provides an adequate means. Liturgy depsychologizes prayer. It removes prayer from the control of my emotions, my motivations, my physical energy, and my circumstances.”
Ryan –
Always feel free to blog-bomb my posts with Eugene Peterson. This blog wouldn’t exist without him. And I really like this quote – good stuff, man!
Hey Matt,
Although I use the Divine Hours for most of my personal prayer time (I love how it makes me recite the Lord’s Prayer), I have also began trying to use the language of the prayer when I am praying about more specific aspects of life too. For example, as I have been praying for God’s guidance in the choice of an occupation, I often focus on the part of “Your Will” and living into “Your Kingdom Come (in St. Louis, Westmont, Fairbury)” and then of course a trust in “Give us this day our daily bread.”
That’s really good, Dustin. Allowing the language and shape of the Lord’s Prayer to frame your time of requests. I’m going to ‘steal’ it.
No problem. I ‘stole’ it from Holsclaw (and modified it from Mike Breen’s slightly confusing hexagon language.)
Here’s a riff on the liturgy theme. During seminary I had a baby. There’s nothing quite like a loud, extroverted infant combined with long-term sleep deprivation to throw a wrench in your private prayer life. So, I adopted some new strategies: just sitting there with God remembering that God knew my exhaustion, simple (rather non-rational) breathing prayers like the Jesus prayer, singing, etc. But the one form of prayer that continued to surprise me was corporate liturgical prayer. When I my soul was mired down with things like changing diapers and fatigue, the liturgy helped me proclaim, “Glory to God in the Highest and peace to God’s people on earth.” When I could barely form the articulations of my failings, the liturgy helped me prayer “I have sinned against You in thought, word, and deed…”
I have experienced times when the daily office became rote and wooden, but I find the practice of praying TOGETHER with others these words that call us beyond ourselves to be a true refuge in the deserts we sometimes travel in the course of prayer.
Heather, that was profound, and it is a perfect picture of an Eastern perspective on Divine Liturgy as “the work of the people.” Thank you for sharing.