Apologies, my hoped for a twice weekly reflection on prayer crashed on the rocks of reality last Thursday. My post-operative condition seem to worsen as the week wore on. So I was unable to post anything. I am back and realize that one thing essential in prayer that I haven't spoken about is listening. Prayer is a dialogue between us and our heavenly Father, or sometimes between us and our Lord Jesus. Our part is problematic, although we all know how to converse. Our talking with God, as Sylvia said on Sunday in the Children's Lesson, sometimes comes off as a shopping trip. We have so many needs that we come bearing our list that we present to him. Prayer is so much more. It is giving thanks, surrendering, interceding, worshiping at the throne of the one who created and sustains all things. But then too, it is listening.
Listening is perhaps the hardest lesson of prayer to learn. Particularly the listening prayer that comes from trying to still and quiet our souls so we can hear the voice of the One who dwells within us. I occasionally have the confidence that I have heard the Father's voice, but most often there are so many other voices whispering or shouting within I struggle to discern the One voice I want to hear.
For instance, in me I always have to contend with the voice of duty. I am a pastor and I should be this and do this and fix this. It comes with the calling. Duty calls and it is difficult at times to still that relentless voice, there are so many good things that need to be done. Then there is the voice of anxiety and fear. This voice was bequeathed to me by my mother. She was an anxious personality and passed it on to me. Of course I have learned to cover it up over the years, but inwardly that voice shrieks at times. Then there is the voice of experiences past. This voice tells us what happened the last time we were in this situation. We feel that "history is doomed to repeat itself."
None of these voices are reliable, though. Duty needs to be balanced with self-care. If we do not attend to the physical, emotional and spiritual needs of our own person we will be of little help to others. The voice of anxiety and fear is only helpful when there is a real threat, which is rare. The voice of experiences past do not take into account that what happened "yesterday" may not be what happens today.
There is only way clear and sure way to hear the voice of our Father, read the Word of God. He has already spoken. Scripture is the historical record of God's self-disclosure in deed and word. We must steep ourselves in the Bible. It must become part of our daily spiritual diet. What was it that Jesus said, "Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God." We have that sure word in the Bible. As I encouraged people to do during this month of prayer, take a single book of the Bible and read a chapter a day for a month. Meditate on it and ask the Father to speak to you personally through it.
Yesterday in chapter 18 of Luke I read about the parable of the persistent widow. Jesus told it as a picture of how we are to pray, with persistence. We are never to give up. But at the end Jesus asks a haunting question, when he comes will he find "faith on the earth." I realized how often I have prayed and didn't believe he would help me. I asked forgiveness and took his promise into prayer.
Then came my favorite parable of the self-righteous Pharisee, who prided himself on all his good works. He looked down on this humble tax-collector, who felt deeply his sin and unworthiness and simply asked, "God have mercy on me a sinner." That is who I am, a sinner in need of mercy. I heard that reassuring voice, "you are forgiven and loved." That was the voice of the Father. We hear him through his word that we have in Scripture. In all your praying, keep listening. The Father longs to speak to his children and he does so through his Word.
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Monday, June 25, 2012
Monday, June 18, 2012
Painful Places
Prayer in painful places is problematic. Pain is distracting. We get focused on our discomfort or simply coping with the pain and we find it difficult to pray. As I described in my last entry I had minor surgery to repair a hernia. Minor may be the adjective to describe my operation, but not my experience of the procedure. I was not myself. I felt out of my "comfort zone." Pain is pain and mine kept me very distracted. It was hard to pray.
There are many encounters with Jesus that help us in these plainful places. In Luke 7 we hear the story of a most unexpectent believer. We don't know his name, only his occupation. He was a Roman soldier. He loved the Jewish people and built a synagogue for them. The Jewish leadership loved him and when he was in a painful place they wanted to help. His pain was a servant who was sick. He valued him highly we are told. He asked some elders of the Jews to go to Jesus and ask him to come and heal his servant. They gladly went and pleaded with Jesus to come. The leadership of the Jews loved this military man.
Notice a couple of details in this account. One, the servant was the one suffering. Apparently it could be a sickness that leads to death. There is a sense of urgency. The place of pain for this servant was made greater because he was absolutely helpless without the help of others. Fortunately he had a master, the Roman soldier, who cared for him. But two, the Roman soldier, himself was in pain over this servant and it too was made greater because he felt helpless. He felt so undeserving he could not even ask Jesus to come into his home. We are told, when Jesus "was not far from the house the centurion sent friends to say, 'Lord, don't trouble yourself, for I do not deserve to have you come under my roof.'"
Humility, it is a surprising quality when we come face to face with it, especially in people we don't expect. The last place to expect humility in the first century, among the Jewish people, would be in a Roman soldier who was part of the occupying power in control of your country. Yet, this soldier was not only humble, but insightful. He goes on to describe that he is no ordinary soldier, he is one in a position of power and leadership. Perhaps he is a Lieutenant or Major. He knows what it is to get an order and have to carry it out, but also give an order and demand complete obedience. He realizes that Jesus did not have some authority, but all authority. He tells Jesus just to "say the word, and my servant will be healed." When Jesus hears this he marvels that not even among the believing Jewish people had he found such faith.
Painful places demand faith. We must believe that Jesus is in control and that we are still under his loving Lordship. What is most helpful, though, is when we have others who intercede for us. We need humble, insightful soldiers of prayer who go to Jesus for us. (Or send others to Jesus for us.) What this soldier did is what prayer in painful places is all about. He humbly intercedes. That is our calling when we have servants who are sick; those in our own family, in our church, or even those we hear about in need. We must value people enough to take them to Jesus, be humble enough to realize we are undeserving of this privilege, and yet faithful enough to know that Jesus has all authority and will do the right thing.
The story ends where most of the encounters with Jesus end, the servant is healed. Painful places don't last forever, healing comes. How helpful it is to have soldiers of prayer to turn to when we find ourselves in those places of pain, whether it be physical or mental. I am grateful for all of you who prayed for me. Let's practice that privilege of intercession and bring Jesus to those who are in places of pain. It will be an act of compassion and an act of faith. Jesus will do the right thing. He will come to the one suffering and be with them in their painful place.
There are many encounters with Jesus that help us in these plainful places. In Luke 7 we hear the story of a most unexpectent believer. We don't know his name, only his occupation. He was a Roman soldier. He loved the Jewish people and built a synagogue for them. The Jewish leadership loved him and when he was in a painful place they wanted to help. His pain was a servant who was sick. He valued him highly we are told. He asked some elders of the Jews to go to Jesus and ask him to come and heal his servant. They gladly went and pleaded with Jesus to come. The leadership of the Jews loved this military man.
Notice a couple of details in this account. One, the servant was the one suffering. Apparently it could be a sickness that leads to death. There is a sense of urgency. The place of pain for this servant was made greater because he was absolutely helpless without the help of others. Fortunately he had a master, the Roman soldier, who cared for him. But two, the Roman soldier, himself was in pain over this servant and it too was made greater because he felt helpless. He felt so undeserving he could not even ask Jesus to come into his home. We are told, when Jesus "was not far from the house the centurion sent friends to say, 'Lord, don't trouble yourself, for I do not deserve to have you come under my roof.'"
Humility, it is a surprising quality when we come face to face with it, especially in people we don't expect. The last place to expect humility in the first century, among the Jewish people, would be in a Roman soldier who was part of the occupying power in control of your country. Yet, this soldier was not only humble, but insightful. He goes on to describe that he is no ordinary soldier, he is one in a position of power and leadership. Perhaps he is a Lieutenant or Major. He knows what it is to get an order and have to carry it out, but also give an order and demand complete obedience. He realizes that Jesus did not have some authority, but all authority. He tells Jesus just to "say the word, and my servant will be healed." When Jesus hears this he marvels that not even among the believing Jewish people had he found such faith.
Painful places demand faith. We must believe that Jesus is in control and that we are still under his loving Lordship. What is most helpful, though, is when we have others who intercede for us. We need humble, insightful soldiers of prayer who go to Jesus for us. (Or send others to Jesus for us.) What this soldier did is what prayer in painful places is all about. He humbly intercedes. That is our calling when we have servants who are sick; those in our own family, in our church, or even those we hear about in need. We must value people enough to take them to Jesus, be humble enough to realize we are undeserving of this privilege, and yet faithful enough to know that Jesus has all authority and will do the right thing.
The story ends where most of the encounters with Jesus end, the servant is healed. Painful places don't last forever, healing comes. How helpful it is to have soldiers of prayer to turn to when we find ourselves in those places of pain, whether it be physical or mental. I am grateful for all of you who prayed for me. Let's practice that privilege of intercession and bring Jesus to those who are in places of pain. It will be an act of compassion and an act of faith. Jesus will do the right thing. He will come to the one suffering and be with them in their painful place.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Humble Places
If you read this you are reading a late night post. I have been running all day trying to get things done, because tomorrow I go under the knife. I am having some surgery, although it is minor compared to what some have to endure. I will be having hernia repair work done. I have to get up at 5:00 to get there by 6:00, and they will knock me out and then cut some small holes to put all those instruments in me. Laprascopic surgery they call it. It doesn't matter, what does is I will be completely at the mercy and skill of several doctors and nurses and attendents in an OR, not Oregon. It is a humble place to be, utterly dependent, helpless, like an infant child.
You realize that is how we actually are to live our lives. We are to live completely at the mercy and skill of a risen Savior who is in the process of saving us. We are to humble ourselves daily and become utterly dependent, like an infant child. We are to learn to place ourselves fully in his care, under his sovereign rule, trusting him for all things. Yes, we are even to admit, we are helpless without his help. Remember that is the meaning of the first beattitude, "Blessed are the poor in spirit."
Humble places. We find ourselves in them often as we journey through life, and through the life of faith in Jesus. He humbles us again and again as we try to follow him into the tough places of loving the unlovely, forgiving the undeserving, serving rather than being served, and trusting him enough to obey his every word.
Humble places. They are a place of prayer. It is in those humble places we learn to cry out, to ask with persistence, to pour out our hearts, to choose to surrender ourselves to the one who is Lord over all.
So in this humble place tonight, I pray. I choose to believe that I am helpless, like a little child. But I also believe I have one who holds me, will not leave my side, not even when I am wheeled into that OR tomorrow. He will be with me, because you see humble places are places where we meet Jesus. Pray with me and I will with you.
You realize that is how we actually are to live our lives. We are to live completely at the mercy and skill of a risen Savior who is in the process of saving us. We are to humble ourselves daily and become utterly dependent, like an infant child. We are to learn to place ourselves fully in his care, under his sovereign rule, trusting him for all things. Yes, we are even to admit, we are helpless without his help. Remember that is the meaning of the first beattitude, "Blessed are the poor in spirit."
Humble places. We find ourselves in them often as we journey through life, and through the life of faith in Jesus. He humbles us again and again as we try to follow him into the tough places of loving the unlovely, forgiving the undeserving, serving rather than being served, and trusting him enough to obey his every word.
Humble places. They are a place of prayer. It is in those humble places we learn to cry out, to ask with persistence, to pour out our hearts, to choose to surrender ourselves to the one who is Lord over all.
So in this humble place tonight, I pray. I choose to believe that I am helpless, like a little child. But I also believe I have one who holds me, will not leave my side, not even when I am wheeled into that OR tomorrow. He will be with me, because you see humble places are places where we meet Jesus. Pray with me and I will with you.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Closets and Secret Places
C.S. Lewis had this imaginative vision of the Christian life. Through the avenue of a children’s story, "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe," Lewis introduced a whole world called Narnia. Narnia was a place like our world, but different. It was different from our world because it had talking animals. It was like our world because it had the powers of good and evil at work within it. There was an evil witch who ruled Narnia and made it "always winter and never Christmas." It had cruel underlings, the wolves, who did her dirty work. But it also had a wonderful king, the lion Aslan, who appeared at just the right moments in order to help. Those who loved goodness and kindness were followers of the great Lion.
Clearly the picture of Narnia is a picture of our world, where the powers of good and evil are in a great struggle. Our world too is infected with a witch like ruler named Satan and his dark, demonic underlings who carry on his destructive work. But there is also a wonderful king, who came and lived among us. He too shows up and helps us, often at just the right time. One day he will return and redeem our world forever.
What has always intrigued me about Lewis’ vision is his image of the wardrobe, or closet in the story. The four children, who are living with their Uncle Andrew, come upon it and soon discovered it is the doorway to this other world of Narnia. The closet serves as the portal to meeting Aslan and all the other creatures in this other world.
I don’t think this was by accident that Lewis used the image of the closet. Jesus linked the closet with the meeting of God as well. He was teaching on prayer and he laid down two rules for prayer. One, don’t make your prayers long and eloquent. Prayer is not for show and God knows what we need before we ask him. Second, when we pray we are to "go into your closet, close the door and pray to your Father who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you."
Closet prayer, or secret prayer is a critical principle in meeting with our Father in heaven. There are several reasons. For one, secret prayer removes the temptation to play to the crowd and it helps us to keep our prayers sincere and real. We come as we are before a God who knows everything about us, even before we speak. In one sense praying in our closet helps the real me meet the real God, who is our Father through faith in Jesus.
Another reason secret prayer is necessary is to avoid as much distraction as possible. Someone commented on my blog, Solitary Places, that she likes to pray on the run, literally. When she is running she prays. I think that is wonderful and perhaps works for some, but it can be potentially distracting. I was a runner for years and although it was a sacred time for me, I was very religious about running, it was not a focused time of prayer. Traffic, people, noise, or simply beautiful vistas tended to draw my attention away. And then too there was the bodily fatigue that would finally grab my attention. The point of closet prayer is to give our full, undivided attention to our Father.
Finally the main reason for "going into our closet and shutting the door," is because as hard as it might be to believe, the Father desires to spend time alone with us. He loves Ben. He loves Kathy. He loves John. He loves Grace. Jesus said the shepherd leaves the 99 and goes after the one lost sheep. Jesus revealed a God with a personal passion and love for each one of us. So he said, "When you pray go into your closet, shut the door and pray to Father in secret..." Lewis grabbed that image and helped us see that closets, or big wardrobes, can be portals to meeting the Father we need, the true King who helps us at just the right time.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Solitary Places
"But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed." Luke 5:16
If there is an emphasis in this comment in Luke’s account of Jesus life it is on the "often." Jesus practiced this pattern of withdrawing often. Who could blame him once his life became so public. Massive crowds began to gather to him every day. In one of these times of withdrawal Jesus disciples found him and exclaimed, "Everyone is looking for you!"(Mark 1:37) To which Jesus responds, "Let us go somewhere else–to nearby villages-so I can preach there also. That is why I have come." Jesus did not play to the crowds, he kept moving according to plan. But he also often withdrew to pray and listen to his Father.
If Jesus needed to withdraw to "lonely places" in order to stay true to his calling, how much more do we. Jesus gave us a pattern to build our life upon. We engage the duties, the work, the people of our lives, but we also disengage and find a quiet place. We manage all the responsibilities and relationships of life by withdrawing and learning to pray to the one who is the reason for our existence, the ground of our being, our Father in heaven.
All this is easier said than done. Particularly if you have young children, or even older children still at home. A parents work is never done, especially with all the endless games and activities and lessons we sign our kids up for. Jobs too get in the way of finding a quiet place. Work can fill our days with pressures and deadlines, and fill our minds with disturbing thoughts when we return home at night. Even pastors can live lives of quiet desperation as they try to juggle the demands.
But it is not just the finding the time and place to withdraw that is difficult. It is also the "what do we do?" when we get there. What do we pray about? How do we listen? There are so many distracting thoughts and images that come to mind. It feels like we are besieged with all the "to do’s", the temptations, the trite and tireless needs of our being that take us away from the one we have withdraw to pray to. What do we do?
Breath this prayer, "Lord, teach us to pray...teach us to pray." Jesus is with us and he will teach us. The first lesson he will teach us is that the practice of withdrawing is just that, a practice. It is no different from learning the skills of playing baseball or soccer. It is not any different than becoming a competent clarinetist, or office manager, or writer. We must work at it, give it time, and most of all discipline. We must practice showing up there in that solitary place, alone with ourselves and God. There will be times we get overwhelmed, too busy, and rush right past that time and place we have set aside. It won’t be long, though, before we notice the symptoms of non-withdrawal. We will feel distant from God, our faith will feel smaller, doubts may creep in, our love quotient will be low, an unreality of all things spiritual will begin to plague us. It is then we need to hear the words, "If you won’t come and be with me for your sake, then come for mine. I miss you." That is the Father calling us to return.
A second lesson Jesus may teach us is the simple key to intimate relationship. We come honestly and transparently. Knowing God through prayer is like knowing a spouse. The conversation of two people who love each other is often mundane and of little depth or meaning. But other times it is the baring of one’s soul and discovering yourself or the one you love in a whole new light. My wife and I use to call these times, "SOS", State of our Soul. We would practice honestly talking to one another and listening. We would practice opening that "window of transparency" to our soul so the other could see what we were feeling, thinking, who we were. It is no different with God. We must come before him without pretense or facade. We must come as we are and open our soul to him. As David poetically penned in Psalm 62, "Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him for God is our refuge." The secret to depth in any relationship is complete trust and honesty. There is no hiding with God. The Father knows all, and still loves even me.
There are many other lessons we will learn because Jesus takes seriously his task as teacher. So keep breathing the prayer, "Lord, teach us to pray," and keep practicing the pattern of withdrawal. Seek out that solitary place, you won’t be alone. It is there that the Father will meet us, listen to us and draw us ever deeper into his love and truth.
Monday, June 4, 2012
A student of Jesus
When it comes to prayer, we should always start with Jesus. I call Luke 11, a primer on prayer. Jesus was in a certain place and he was praying we are told. His disciples were with him. When he finished praying his disciples asked him, "Lord, teach us to pray..." Jesus response was to say, "When you pray..."
I am always intrigued by two things in this exchange. First, his disciples ask to be taught how to pray. As I said in the message on Sunday these were all Jewish men, raised going to synagogue, raised in a highly religious culture. They had learned many prayers over the years by rote. They had prayed all their life. Yet they are asking Jesus to teach them to pray. There had to be something different about Jesus praying, which they had heard numerous times by now. Or perhaps they were like us, and never felt they mastered this mysterious aspect of the life of faith, praying to God.
I think it was a combination of both. Jesus prayed differently. We know that. He didn't always pray the memorized prayers of the Jewish traditions, the psalms and rabbinic prayers. For we know in the garden in his last hours he prayed a spontaneous and a very need centered prayer of agony. "Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done." Mark tells us his use of Father in this situation was the childlike Abba, not the formal Jewish address of Ab. There must have been a real-life groundedness to Jesus prayers that his disciples were captivated by. As the psalmist said, "These things I remember as I pour out my soul." Jesus poured his soul into his prayers. His disciples wanted to learn to pray with this kind of authenticity and honesty.
They also, though, must have found prayer confusing. Like us prayer brought them up against this great mystery. Does God really hear us? Do I matter to the creator of a vast universe? Is he attentive to someone so small and unheralded as me? Is this God gracious and compassionate towards me, or is he angry and upset over my many failings? And then like us all they must have wondered, is there a right way to pray, a pattern to be followed?
Jesus took their desire to be his students, to learn very seriously. He would teach them to pray and in this brief lesson on prayer he answered all their questions and more. He said that God does hear us, is attentive to our needs and his love and compassion are like that of an earthly Father, but "much more." Jesus even gives them a pattern to follow. Woe are we if the "Lord's Prayer" is only another mumbled, meaningless, memorized prayer we chant in church. It reveals to us so much of the meaning of prayer, not least of which is that God is our Abba, as he was to Jesus. More on the Lord's prayer later, but Jesus' disciples desire to be taught to pray is what first intrigues me in this exchange.
The second thing I am intrigued about, though, is Jesus opening words, "When you pray..." For Jesus prayer isn't an option, or reserved for the verbal elite, or even a great mystery. It is for everyone. "When you pray..." assumes that we will all pray. Perhaps this assumption will even go to those who are not disciples of Jesus. Prayer somehow springs forth spontaneously when we find ourselves up against the terrors and uncontrollables of life. Yet for us who do believe and call ourselves followers of Jesus, prayer is a given. We will pray and even more it will come to be the center of who we are.
I have often remarked that Christians at times divide into three camps, the thinkers, the doers, and the devotionalists. Or to put it more clearly, some see the Christian faith as what we believe, the dogma, others see it as how we live, the moral or loving lifestyle, and still others view it as a daily discipline of reading the Bible and saying their prayers. In truth, the Christian is called to all three. The great challenge is to nurture all three when we tend to be good at one and perhaps lagging in the other two.
Prayer of course isn't what we do once a day in our devotional time. Prayer is the language of relationship. God calls us into relationship with himself through his Son Jesus. The very nature of following is that we are with Jesus all day long. Through the gift of the Holy Spirit we are in the presence of God the Father and Jesus the Son continually. That spiritual reality infuses our life. We are immersed in God, "God intoxicated," as one said. So in our thinking we need to be talking and listening to the ever present Father. In our doing we need to be following the ever present Son. In our meditating on Scripture and saying our prayers we need to be humble before the ever present Spirit who "guides us into all truth," and who "helps us in our weakness for we do not know what we ought to pray for..."
Prayer is at the heart of Christian thinking, doing and devotion. Jesus put it there both by example and by teaching. We have much to learn. "Lord, teach us to pray..."
I am always intrigued by two things in this exchange. First, his disciples ask to be taught how to pray. As I said in the message on Sunday these were all Jewish men, raised going to synagogue, raised in a highly religious culture. They had learned many prayers over the years by rote. They had prayed all their life. Yet they are asking Jesus to teach them to pray. There had to be something different about Jesus praying, which they had heard numerous times by now. Or perhaps they were like us, and never felt they mastered this mysterious aspect of the life of faith, praying to God.
I think it was a combination of both. Jesus prayed differently. We know that. He didn't always pray the memorized prayers of the Jewish traditions, the psalms and rabbinic prayers. For we know in the garden in his last hours he prayed a spontaneous and a very need centered prayer of agony. "Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done." Mark tells us his use of Father in this situation was the childlike Abba, not the formal Jewish address of Ab. There must have been a real-life groundedness to Jesus prayers that his disciples were captivated by. As the psalmist said, "These things I remember as I pour out my soul." Jesus poured his soul into his prayers. His disciples wanted to learn to pray with this kind of authenticity and honesty.
They also, though, must have found prayer confusing. Like us prayer brought them up against this great mystery. Does God really hear us? Do I matter to the creator of a vast universe? Is he attentive to someone so small and unheralded as me? Is this God gracious and compassionate towards me, or is he angry and upset over my many failings? And then like us all they must have wondered, is there a right way to pray, a pattern to be followed?
Jesus took their desire to be his students, to learn very seriously. He would teach them to pray and in this brief lesson on prayer he answered all their questions and more. He said that God does hear us, is attentive to our needs and his love and compassion are like that of an earthly Father, but "much more." Jesus even gives them a pattern to follow. Woe are we if the "Lord's Prayer" is only another mumbled, meaningless, memorized prayer we chant in church. It reveals to us so much of the meaning of prayer, not least of which is that God is our Abba, as he was to Jesus. More on the Lord's prayer later, but Jesus' disciples desire to be taught to pray is what first intrigues me in this exchange.
The second thing I am intrigued about, though, is Jesus opening words, "When you pray..." For Jesus prayer isn't an option, or reserved for the verbal elite, or even a great mystery. It is for everyone. "When you pray..." assumes that we will all pray. Perhaps this assumption will even go to those who are not disciples of Jesus. Prayer somehow springs forth spontaneously when we find ourselves up against the terrors and uncontrollables of life. Yet for us who do believe and call ourselves followers of Jesus, prayer is a given. We will pray and even more it will come to be the center of who we are.
I have often remarked that Christians at times divide into three camps, the thinkers, the doers, and the devotionalists. Or to put it more clearly, some see the Christian faith as what we believe, the dogma, others see it as how we live, the moral or loving lifestyle, and still others view it as a daily discipline of reading the Bible and saying their prayers. In truth, the Christian is called to all three. The great challenge is to nurture all three when we tend to be good at one and perhaps lagging in the other two.
Prayer of course isn't what we do once a day in our devotional time. Prayer is the language of relationship. God calls us into relationship with himself through his Son Jesus. The very nature of following is that we are with Jesus all day long. Through the gift of the Holy Spirit we are in the presence of God the Father and Jesus the Son continually. That spiritual reality infuses our life. We are immersed in God, "God intoxicated," as one said. So in our thinking we need to be talking and listening to the ever present Father. In our doing we need to be following the ever present Son. In our meditating on Scripture and saying our prayers we need to be humble before the ever present Spirit who "guides us into all truth," and who "helps us in our weakness for we do not know what we ought to pray for..."
Prayer is at the heart of Christian thinking, doing and devotion. Jesus put it there both by example and by teaching. We have much to learn. "Lord, teach us to pray..."
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