Honest Prayer

Many years ago, I read C. S. Lewis’s work on prayer: Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer. This unique book takes a look at the role of prayer in our lives and how it impacts our faith. One thing that stood out to me then and continues to shape my prayers to this day, is Lewis’s teaching that we ought to be honest with the Lord when we come to him in prayer.

At first glance, we might think that goes without saying. Of course, we are to be honest with the Lord. Why would anyone want to be dishonest when praying to the God of the universe? When it comes to honesty, I mean less about whether we are speaking truth or a lie, but more about being honest with who we are and what is in our hearts.

It’s tempting to want to put ourselves together when we come before the Lord in prayer, rather than come to him exactly as we are: tears streaming in grief, heart pounding in fear, shoulders drooped in exhaustion. Yet Lewis wrote, “we want to know not how we should pray if we were perfect but how we should pray being as we are now.” Where are we right now? What is happening in our life in this moment? What is weighing down our heart? What temptations are we battling? What is the state of our faith? These are the things we bring with us when we pray. We come to the Lord in vulnerability. In weakness. In brokenness. In need of grace. Lewis wrote: “We must lay before Him what is in us, not what ought to be in us.”

That’s what the psalmist does. He comes to the Lord exactly as he is. “Be gracious to me, O LORD, for I am languishing; heal me, O LORD, for my bones are troubled. My soul also is greatly troubled. But you, O LORD—how long?” (Ps. 6:2-3). The psalmist is not ashamed to express the true depths of his struggles. He describes his pain with vivid descriptions. He asks God all those questions our own hearts ask: Why? How long? When? He cries out to God expecting that he hears and that he will respond.

The Puritan preacher, John Bunyan, describes honest prayer this way: “Sincerity opens its heart to God and tells him the case plainly. True prayer feels, sighs, groans, and bubbles out of the heart as some heavy burden lies upon it or some sweet sense of mercy received is appreciated. O the heat, strength, life, vigour and affection that is in true prayer.”

God already knows the content of our hearts. As the psalmist wrote, “before a word is on my tongue, behold, O LORD, you know it altogether” (Ps. 139:4). He knows all the thoughts and intentions of our hearts. So there’s no need to pretend with God. We can be honest about the depths of our sin, sorrow, and suffering.

In my own prayer life, I often begin my prayers with something like “I come before you today with…” I then immediately voice the troubling thoughts I’ve had, or the painful emotions I feel, or the difficult circumstances I am going through—those things that are pressing on my heart that I need to get out in the open. Because until I express them to the Lord, my mind will not focus on other aspects of prayer. This level of honesty requires that I be honest with myself first. I have to be honest with the fact that I don’t have it all together. That I am needy. That I am dependent. That I need God’s rescuing grace. To the degree that I am honest with myself, the more I am honest with the Lord.

Bunyan wrote that “Prayer opens the heart of God and fills the empty soul. By prayer the Christian can open his heart to God as to a friend, and obtain fresh testimony of God’s friendship to him.” Do you know this kind of honest prayer?

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Who Prays For You?

Whenever there is some kind of tragedy, we often hear people say something like, “My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.” I’ve heard newscasters say it in response to a person’s loss of a loved one. I often wonder what they mean when they say that. Do they equate thoughts and prayers as the same thing? Do kind thoughts about someone make an impact in their lives in some way? Or is it just a nice thing to say? Also, do they really mean that they are praying for the hurting person and if so, to whom are they praying?

In recent weeks, I’ve received countless texts, emails, and messages from brothers and sisters in Christ with the same message, “I am praying for you.” In this case, I know why these believers say this to me. I know what they mean when they do. And I know that these words actually do something. Not simply because it is a nice thing to say, which it is. Not simply because I know someone cares about me, though I know they do. But because those words refer to something powerful. When a Christian prays, things happen. God uses the prayers of believers to carry out his will.

I can’t help but think of the story of Peter when Herod put him in prison in Acts 12. “So Peter was kept in prison, but earnest prayer for him was made to God by the church” (v.5). Then we read what happens when the church prayed: an angel came and set him free, breaking his chains and bringing him past sentries guarding the jail. “Now I am sure that the Lord has sent his angel and rescued me from the hand of Herod and from all that the Jewish people were expecting” (v.11). Peter went straight to the house church where everyone was gathered, still praying for his release. James tells us “The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working” (5:16). There are countless examples in Scripture of God’s people praying and the Lord hearing and responding to their prayers.

So, for the Christian, praying for others actually means something. It’s more than words and more than a kind thing to say. It does something. God hears and responds when we pray for one another.

When we pray for one another, we pray to the same Father on behalf of our brother or sister in Christ. It is a very practical way in which we live out our unity with one another. Our Father moves in the life of those for whom we pray. The Apostle Paul knew this and that’s why he asked the Corinthian church to pray for him, “You also must help us by prayer, so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many” (2 Cor. 1:11).

The question is, who prays for you? Who do you turn to when you need prayer? Whether you face temptation to sin or a hard trial of life, who will bring your needs before your Father in heaven? My father passed away recently and I immediately reached out to people in my life that I knew would pray for me. And they did. Even more, they called on the phone and prayed aloud with me. They came to my home with meals and prayed for me.

In order to have someone pray for us, we need to be connected to the Body of Christ; we need to be a part of a church community. And in order for people to know we need prayer, they have to know us. We have to be engaged with others in the church, inviting them into our lives, so that they know our sins, sorrows, and needs. We can’t expect people to know us if we slink into the back row right as the sermon starts and exit before the benediction. This means we have to participate in the life of the church—in fellowship, in discipleship and learning, in service to one another. The more we do so, the more we are united to others in the church, and the more we can turn to the church body when we are in need of prayer. And as we pray for one another, we are further deepened in our unity, and glorify God together in thanksgiving for his answered prayer.

The prayers of my brothers and sisters in Christ have carried me through a lot this past year. Do you have people who pray for you?

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When God is Our Portion

I was in tenth grade when my grandmother had a heart attack. My grandparents lived far away from us and had just been in town for a visit when we received a call from my grandfather late one evening. I remember a flurry of decision making and tense voices, and then my mother came in my room to tell me she would leave in the morning to travel and visit my grandmother in the hospital.

I remember not quite knowing what to feel or think. I was a teenager and unfamiliar with all the medical jargon. But I loved my grandmother dearly and wanted to comfort her in some way. So I opened my Bible, culled through the Psalms, searching for words that might provide some solace. I scribbled a note to her for my mother to give her and added these words of Asaph:

“Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Psalm 73:25-26).

A few days later, my grandmother passed away and every time I read Psalm 73, I think of her.

For years, whenever I reach Psalm 73 in my Bible reading plan, those two verses jump out at me and instantly I am transported back to my adolescence and to the grief and sorrow I felt at her loss. But recently, I re-read the Psalm and was struck by how those two verses stand in contrast to everything before it.

In Psalm 73, the psalmist comes to the throne of grace with a complaint. He pours out his disappointments, questions, and doubts before the Lord with great expectation. He assumes God hears him. He assumes God will respond. And what is his main complaint?

The prosperity of the wicked.

They seem to have no problems. They are rich and problem-free. They don’t experience the troubles and trials the rest of mankind contends with. They are prideful and thumb their nose at God. The psalmist describes it this way: “They set their mouths against the heavens, and their tongue struts throughout the earth.” They deny God. And all the while, they increase in wealth and prosperity.

Asaph brings these complaints before the Lord in the context of worship. And in doing so, he is convicted. He sees his heart. He sees how bitter he is as a result of comparing his life to that of the ungodly. “When my soul was embittered, when I was pricked in heart, I was brutish and ignorant; I was like a brute beast toward you.”

But God is gracious! The Psalm then transitions to the wonders of God’s grace. “Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will receive me to glory.” After Asaph confesses his sin, the fog dissipates and he sees the truth: God is everything. The ungodly might have every material possession their hearts desire, but the godly have something far better, God himself. Knowing God and being known by him is worth far more than anything this world has to offer. In fact, everything that the ungodly accumulate in life dissipates like a dream once they stand before the throne of judgement (v.20). Their prosperity is shown to be empty and useless. What a contrast to all that we have in God! That’s what those verses I sent to my grandmother mean. God is our portion. He is our inheritance. And through Jesus, we have full access.

I have my grandmother’s Bible, the one she took with her to church each Lord’s Day. It’s filled with her sermon notes and underlined passages. She knew the Lord was her portion. And I’m thankful for the years I had with her as a child, to learn from her testimony, to learn of her love for God. My grandmother’s example and the words of Asaph point me to the truth: “it is good to be near God.” In his presence, doubts are transformed. The weak are made strong. The lost and frightened find refuge.

When we seek the Lord, we find everything.

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A Present Help

The area of motherhood that always seems to stretch me the most is anything related to my kid’s health. From the moment my oldest was born and required extra testing and care, I felt helpless. It then persisted throughout both my son’s childhood with chronic asthma and infections. Perhaps I feel this way because I don’t have medical training so I am clueless when it comes to understanding their medical concerns. When there is a health scare, there is nothing I can do to fix the problem; I am dependent upon health experts to tell me what to do.

I felt that way recently when my oldest fell and split open his elbow while out on a caving trip with his friends. They were two hours away, in the middle of nowhere, with no cell service. By the time I found out and got him to the urgent care, twelve hours had passed. He then got an infection which the doctor fought with an intense array of antibiotics. There was nothing I could do but follow the doctor’s orders.

Except.

Except for prayer. Except for trusting in the Lord. Except for seeking his help and asking him to deliver and provide and heal.

In helpless moments, Psalm 18 reminds me: “The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold” (v.2). And as the psalmist wrote elsewhere, “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble” 46:1). God is a very present help in times of trouble. Sometimes I forget that. I forget that his help is here and now. I forget that in this moment, right now, he is my rock and fortress and deliverer. Not that he was, but that he is.

He is my place of safety. He rescues me from trouble. He is my salvation.

All in the present. Right here. Right now.

So often I consider the Lord’s salvation as past tense, as something he did at Calvary over 2,000 years ago. Or even future tense, in that he has saved me for eternity and one day in the future I will meet him in glory. But in the present, in the here and now, the Bible reminds me that he is with me. He is my salvation in moments when I don’t know what to do or where to turn.

The Puritan, Richard Sibbes, wrote: “A Christian must look at the trouble with one eye, and to God with the other. See God to be your salvation. Let the trouble be what it will, if God is your deliverer. It is no matter what the disease might be, if God is your physician…God is our God. He chose us, in due time he called us, and made a covenant with us to be our God. He loves us, and preserves us…”

Life is filled with trouble. But we have a great and mighty God. He is present with us, ready to take us in as our fortress. He is our salvation—in the past, in the future, and right here, right now.

Dear friend, turn to the Lord with all your troubles and find him to be your present help.

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Busy in Prayer

I remember the first time I came across Martin Luther’s quote on prayer: “Work, work from early until late. In fact, I have so much to do that I shall spend the first three hours in prayer.” I was a young mom overwhelmed with the daily tasks of raising littles. I had no time or space of my own. Every moment seemed like I was at the beck and call of people who constantly needed me. Even getting a shower each day seemed like an impossible task.

As I read the quote, I couldn’t help but recall those mornings before I had children where I would read my Bible and pray before heading off to work. It seemed so easy then. My time was my own. But after having children, it was a struggle to find quiet. It was a challenge to find pockets of time to focus on my own needs. (Anyone have littles follow them into the bathroom?!) So when I came across the Luther quote, my mind could not wrap itself around the idea. I couldn’t find five quiet minutes alone to pray, much less three hours!

But more than the amount of time Luther designated to prayer, I think what stood out to me the most is Luther’s response to the busyness of his life. He had a full life, translating the Bible, preaching, leading a Reformation. He was also a husband and father. With all that he had on his plate, he chose to begin his day with prayer. When my life is filled to the brim and I get overwhelmed, trying to juggle all the tasks and duties before me, I am more likely to cut things out of my day like Bible study and prayer. I will zero in on my tasks and work hard until they are completed. The fact that Luther didn’t set aside prayer in his busy day but instead prayed because he was so busy is a testament to his faith and trust in God. He entrusted his time to our sovereign Lord who rules our days. As Proverbs tells us, “The heart of man plans his way, but the LORD establishes his steps” (16:9). The Lord knows the tasks we have before us. He knows our limitations. And he knows what we need in order to accomplish what he’s called us to do. When Luther had too much to do and not enough time, he turned to the keeper of his days, praying for the Lord to provide, instruct, guide, and direct his path.

Our Savior did the same. He made it a priority to be with his Father in prayer. He rose early in the morning to be alone and commune with the Father (Mark 1:35). In the midst of people desperate to meet with him and be healed, he would leave to pray by himself, “But now even more the report about him went abroad, and great crowds gathered to hear him and to be healed of their infirmities. But he would withdraw to desolate places and pray” (Luke 5:15-16).

Jesus abided in the Father and taught us to abide as well: “Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15:4-5). We abide through prayer and study of the word. And as we abide, we received the spiritual strength we need to live out our callings. God hears our prayers and equips us for the tasks at hand. He gives us the wisdom and discernment we need. He enables us to accomplish his purposes. It is only as we abide that we bear fruit.

Luther knew the truth that apart from God, he could do nothing. And so he prayed. While it’s hard to imagine committing three hours of our day in prayer—and there may be times when we need to do just that!—more so, we need to entrust all our plans, all our busy tasks and responsibilities, to the One who rules our days. May we have a heart like Luther, one that is busy in prayer.

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A Broken and Contrite Heart

“Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin!” Psalm 51:2

I don’t now about you, but my first response to sin in my life is to minimize it. I look for ways to lesson my responsibility. Someone else made me angry and that’s why I responded the way I did. I was sick or tired or simply don’t remember doing anything wrong. Or how about this one: what I did is not as bad as what someone else did. In all these ways and more, I attempt to justify my actions, to make my sin seem like a good thing, when it is actually far from it.

In Psalm 51, we get a glimpse into the heart of a sinner, King David. The prophet Nathan confronted David for his sin against Bathsheba and his immediate response wasn’t to self-justify himself. He didn’t try to minimize his sin or look for someone else on which to lay the blame. He didn’t even come up with some method to rehabilitate himself; rather, he simply said, “I have sinned against the LORD” (2 Samuel 12:13). He then penned Psalm 51, a lament in which he confessed his sin to the Lord. This psalm then became a hymn for God’s people.

There is much we can learn from David’s psalm about confession of sin. Even more, it can help shape our own prayers of confession.

Trust in God’s steadfast love and mercy: “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions” (v.1). At the start of this psalm, David turned in humble reliance upon God’s covenant love and mercy. These are characteristics of God found throughout Scripture, linked with his identity as the Great I AM (see Ex. 34:6-7). This is the truth we too must rest in when we cry out to the Lord and seek his forgiveness for sin. We come before One who is unchanging in his steadfast love and mercy. The same God who walked past Moses as he hid behind a rock is the same God who hears our prayers today. The same God to whom David turned in prayer, is the same God we turn to today—full of steadfast love and mercy.

Our sin is against God: Though David’s sin was against Bathsheba and her husband Uriah, it was ultimately a sin against a holy and righteous God. “Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight” (v.4). We must remember that all our sin is against God. Even one sin, no matter how small it may seem, is an affront to One who is holy pure. When we have sinned, it is important that we call it what it is. That we name it. That we don’t minimize or excuse it, but confess it.

Salvation is found in God alone: Only God can cleanse us from our sin. “Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin… Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow… Deliver me from the guilt of bloodshed, O God, you who are God my Savior” (vv. 2, 7, 14). In David’s day, atonement for sin was made through the sacrificial system, one that had to be repeated over and over. On this side of redemptive history, forgiveness and salvation is found in Jesus Christ. Through faith in his perfect life, sacrificial death, and triumphant resurrection, we are cleansed from sin and made righteous. There is nowhere we can turn for life and hope but in Jesus. No one else can rescue us but the perfect Lamb of God. As much as humanity might like to think otherwise, there is no other solution, plan, or remedy available to us. “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (Jn. 14:6).

Our sin is a barrier between us and God: David refers to this barrier in Psalm 51, “Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me” (vs. 11-12). Ever since our first parents sinned and were cast out of the Garden, there has been a barrier between us and God. Jesus came to tear down this barrier. He came to bring us back into right relationship with the One who made us. And in removing this barrier, we now have full access to the throne of grace, where we can come to God in confidence and receive the grace and help we need (Heb. 4:16).

God cleanses us and makes us new: In this lament, David asks for cleansing: “Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me” (v.10). Not only does David want forgiveness, he wants to be cleansed; he wants to be washed clean from his sin. We have to be made right before we can come into God’s presence, for only those who are holy can stand before him. In Christ, we are new creations. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come” (2 Corinthians 5:17). What amazing grace!

God wants our broken and contrite hearts: “You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise” (vv.16-17). We bring nothing to the throne of grace but our broken and contrite hearts. We come to God just as we are. We do so through the sacrifice of Christ, wrapped in his robes of righteousness. When we’ve sinned, it is good and right to come to the Lord in lament for our sin, bringing him our broken and contrite hearts. That is a sacrifice he delights in.

Our response to this grace is a heart that rejoices. Anyone who encounters God’s amazing grace— who has been forgiven, cleansed, and made right with God— can’t help but response in praise to the One who made it so. “Restore to me the joy our your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit” (v.12). “O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise” (v. 15). When we’ve confessed our sin and appropriated the gospel of Jesus Christ to our heart and experience God’s grace and forgiveness anew, we respond in praise and thanksgiving. We rejoice at the goodness of God.

David sinned against Bathsheba and rightly felt the sting of conviction. His guilt weighed on him, so much so, that it felt like broken bones (v.8). When we too feel the pain of conviction for sin, may we be quick to run to our Father in prayer. May we come to him in humility and honesty, with complete confidence, knowing that our loving, merciful God forgives us through the cleansing blood of our Savior, Jesus Christ.