Thoughts and Prayers

The recent church shooting in Sutherland Springs, Texas has again prompted many public officials to offer their “thoughts and prayers” for those so tragically affected. As this has become an all too commonplace ritual the chorus of “no more prayers, we need action” is reaching a crescendo. Some religious folk have pushed back, defending prayer and attacking some as anti-Christian. I have no illusion that adding my voice will make any difference in this divisive cacophony, but as one who has focused on cultivating my own prayer life for decades, I feel compelled to at least articulate my perspective. Perhaps because I feel somewhat misunderstood if not slandered by all of these voices.

First, I want to acknowledge that for many, many people, church going, religious people, to say “I’ll pray for you.” is a polite and mildly pious way of saying, “I care about you and what you are going through right now.” A perfunctory prayer invoking God’s blessing may be said  and even repeated at times of routine ritual. I don’t want to denigrate this practice, only recognize it as a courteous gesture in some circles.

Second, I want to say a bit about what I believe is a common but immature and limited understanding of what prayer is. I have often observed that if you listened to much of public prayer, and I am sure plenty of private prayer, you’d get the idea that we think God is stupid and needs to be informed by us about what needs divine attention and what to do about it. Jesus said, “Your Father knows what you need before you ask him.” (Matthew 6:8)

This attitude betrays a couple of further flaws in our typical thinking about prayer. I am uncomfortable, at best, at the various assertions that “prayer works” as though prayer was something instrumental by which we enlist or manipulate God into doing what we want. I have no objection to enlisting others as partners in our prayers, but I do not believe, as seems to be implied all too often, that if we can amass enough people praying about something, we can compel God to act on our behalf.

To somehow demand that God comfort those who have been wounded by something as tragic as these mass shootings and not also demand that God prevent people who are angry or mentally ill or whatever from obtaining and using guns or any other means to perpetrate violence is at best hypocritical and exposes the flaws of an instrumental understanding of prayer. This goes to the deep and insoluble dilemma of why God permits evil at all. Theologians and philosophers have explored this deeply for centuries, and though the insights may be correct enough, we are left puzzling in some anguish.

I remember well a very helpful series of articles on intercessory prayer by Roberta Bondi in The Christian Century several years ago. She built them around understanding God’s relationship with us as a friendship, but not in a superficial, flippant way. Prayer, then, is conversation between friends about what is important to both of them, and about seemingly trivial daily details. Friends might also ask for each other’s help, but not in term of demands or coercion. I think this two way interaction is at the core of maturing prayer.

Third, my experience and conviction is that by praying I am purposely getting close enough to God to begin to see the things that concern me through God’s eyes and to get God’s perspective and priority that may direct my attention somewhere totally different than I was thinking about in the first place. So I don’t pray to change God but to invite God to change me. We learn to pray in this way from the prayers that are in Scripture. I have prayed through (not just read) the Psalms every month (5 a day) for over 45 years. I pray through the prayers in the New Testament Epistles twice a month. I practice lectio divina which prompts me to pray with the Scripture passages I am meditating on each day. These practices continue to stretch my prayers into territory I would not explore on my own.

I suggest contrasting the Lord’s Prayer and some of the classic prayers of the giants of the Church with our instrumental, self-oriented, limited prayers. Jesus prayed for the glory and kingdom of the Father to come to earth and for delivery from evil (“the evil one” which can rightly be understood as a person who perpetrates evil) . The prayer attributed to Francis of Assisi prays that we will be directed to the hurting people around us rather than our own interests. The prayer of Richard of Chichester  (which you may know from the song in Godspell) asks that we better see, love, and follow Jesus.

God’s perspective includes stimulating me to take action based on what I believe is from God, trusting the Holy Spirit to nudge me as I go. One cautionary word here, this is not an instrumental use of prayer either, as we post-Enlightenment, pragmatic Westerners are prone to. It is not that God sends me a Mission Impossible tape with my assigned mission. Praying (without ceasing - 1 Thessalonians 5:17) to be sensitive to these nudges and to watch and listen for them from unexpected sources. Even deeper, such prayer shapes my heart to be increasingly congruent with the heart of Jesus. It changes who I am toward a closer approximation of the mind of Christ.

If I may connect this with prayer prompted by tragic events such as the shooting at the church in Sutherland Springs, Texas, I would suggest that we start by asking to have God’s perspective on the victims and those who remain to grieve, and on the shooter and all of the people and forces that brought him to this horrific point, and on the medical, social, law enforcement, political and all other folk affected by this event. Then begin by asking for God’s perspective for what can be done about this trend in our society. That may move me to seek out someone who is grieving to comfort them, as I pray that those closer to these victims are doing. That may move me to reach out so some I know who is angry, violent, or having mental health challenges to encourage and support them in getting help before they are drawn into violence. That may move me to get involved in local, regional, and national efforts to reduce violence of all kinds. That may move me to advocate for legal actions that would reduce the risks associated with all sorts of weapons and instruments of violence. These things are not actions as opposed to prayers, nor are they only outgrowths of prayers, they are prayers!

With all that I have written here and taught and practice about prayer for decades, I still must confess, as the Apostle Paul did in Romans 8:26, that “we do not know how to pray as we ought.” I am frequently aware that the churnings in my heart that urge me to pray are just too deep for words. Exploring that is beyond the scope of this piece, but I would say that daily I am thankful for the Holy Spirit’s groaning intercessions.