Teach Us To Pray

INTRODUCTION I told myself I would never travel through Chicago again. Several years ago, we were on our way from Minnesota to Nashville on vacation and went through Illinois en route to our destination. We briefly stopped at the first few toll booths and found we were dropping a dollar at what felt like every mile and a half. We were tempted to pull over and have either my wife or I walk and see who could get through the city faster. Eventually, we discovered a “bill you later” option, so we opted to drive under the cameras and push the expense to a future date. On the return trip, we decided to go around instead of through the big city. It wasn’t worth the headache or expense.   We eventually got the bill for our trip (three years after we arrived home). Sometimes in life, it may be beneficial to go around instead of through difficulties. More often, we must face a problem head-on and press through it. This type of perseverance sounds noble but is counter to my nature. I’m drawn to the path of least resistance. I prefer to be comfortable. I have an app to adjust the thermostat from my recliner and another capable of turning off a lamp five feet from my bed because I’m too lazy to embark on such an arduous journey. The path of least resistance may make for a smoother road but will eventually prevent us from growing in depth. Spiritual substance is formed by going through, not around. This is especially true in our prayer lives. Superficial conversations lead to superficial friendships. Shallow prayers fail to create a depth of relationship with God. A conversation with God revolving around what we believe He wants to hear instead of what we actually feel may connect us on a surface level but fails to produce intimacy. Depth is a result of wrestling. Closeness is developed when we work through our questions and doubts, not around them. Truth remains on the surface of our souls when it's collected, stored away and brought back out when opportunities arise for theological discussions. Truth is intended to shape who we are becoming, not simply represent the sum of our spoken beliefs. Wrestling is an immensely practical exercise critical in producing faith in the life of a believer. It moves us from the theoretical or ideological toward experiencing truth personally. It assists in making that which is true, true of us. But how do we know if we’re making progress? Distance can be measured in steps or miles. Weight is determined by stepping on a scale. Our struggles with God require effort on our part, but progress is difficult to quantify. I’ve found there are several byproducts produced as we wrestle with God. The fruit of our perseverance (and His grace) is measured by our increased faith and trust in His character and our love for Him and others. In this pursuit, truth is essential. It becomes a foothold as we press into difficult questions. Unfortunately, for many, the same truth-providing grip may serve as a stop sign for others, halting potential dialogue. We may reason that disagreement with our Creator is disrespectful or dangerous. We may be right. But when we ignore, discount or squash our concerns, we miss an opportunity to discover the “why” behind a directive. We also minimize God’s capacity to handle our deepest doubts and hurt. Truth, as we understand it in scripture, should help prevent us from sinning, not wrestling.  Obedience shouldn’t be contingent upon our understanding of a commandment. Yet, understanding the heart behind the command is necessary in knowing the one giving us the instruction. These stop signs extend beyond commands to our beliefs about the Lord. God is good and just, but the evidence in scripture (from a burning bush to the tragedies in Job to various Psalms to the lamentations of the prophets) demonstrates a pattern of questioning the goodness, timing and justice of our Creator. As we navigate this fallen world, instead of seeking to eliminate any vestige of doubt from our minds, we are encouraged to process through it.   When we wrestle with God, we both win. We grow, and He is given glory. It isn’t easy. It doesn’t come without scars. We may even carry a limp, but as we grapple, the core of who we are begins to change. This book is broken up into two halves. The first is an invitation to wrestle through questions most of us have regarding prayer. The goal of each chapter isn’t to eliminate wrestling by giving conclusive answers. My hope is to invite the reader into a wrestling match with a loving God who desires to be known. The second half transitions from practical wrestling to practical application. Knowing the need for prayer may create the desire to pray but fails in helping with how it's done. Jesus’s disciples knew they were supposed to pray but didn’t know how. Jesus responded to their inquiry with the oft-memorized but underutilized outline we often refer to as “The Lord’s Prayer.” Its structure isn’t intended to shape every communication we have with God. Yet, when used as a typical pattern in shaping our prayers, its design helps focus our communication and reorients our lives. A great deal of ink has been spilled on the topic of prayer. There are books telling stories of corporate prayer’s impact on a local church or community. Others focus on listening to God. I’ve benefited from texts offering practical tools for communicating with God. Some have been written as an indictment on church growth strategies devoid of a prayerful foundation. Some give pragmatic advice on interceding for others. Every author has a limited canvas to create. No one writer gets to write all the books on prayer. I hope this work will grant the reader permission to wrestle, remove a few stubborn rocks preventing spiritual growth and find in Jesus’s outline a structure capable of enhancing and elongating our prayer times.