What sort of language should we use in prayer? What sort of subjects are appropriate to bring before God? Most of us would probably find questions like these hard to answer, for our response would almost certainly depend on what we were praying for and how we were feeling at the time. Occasionally prayer simply flows, our innermost feelings finding expression naturally and spontaneously. But there are times also when we approach prayer almost mechanically, saying what we think God wants to hear rather than what we really want to tell him. Why? Partly, I think, because there lurks in many of us a vague sense that prayer requires a special sort of language, almost a technical expertise, if God is to hear us. But perhaps the main reason is that we feel some matters are best kept to ourselves. Yet if prayer is to nurture our faith and our growth as individuals, to become a dialogue rather than a monologue, we need to be honest with God and bring ourselves as we are with no holds barred. That’s what this session, taken from my early book Are You Listening?, explores.
Read
Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The
Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other
people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a
tenth of all my income.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to
heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ Luke
18:10-13
Reflect and pray
It’s me, O Lord:
not the person I pretend to be,
nor who I want to be,
but me, as I am,
with all my strengths,
all my weaknesses,
all my faith,
all my doubt –
me, as I’ve rarely dared come before,
reaching out to you in prayer.
I’ve no right to be here, I know that,
for I’m nothing special,
nothing to write home about,
and I’ve little idea what I’m going to say,
still less how to say it.
But you tell us if we truly seek, we shall find,
if we’re really sorry, you’ll forgive,
if we keep on asking, you will answer.
So I’m here, Lord,
in all my ugliness and sin –
weak,
selfish,
greedy,
thoughtless –
but I’m here,
and I’m asking you, despite it all:
hear my prayer.
My child,
don’t stop,
keep talking,
for I’m here too,
delighted to listen,
drinking in your every word.
It’s a joy to hear you, believe me,
music to my ears –
no need to apologise or excuse yourself.
I’ve looked forward to this moment for so long,
your coming openly and honestly to meet me.
For it’s you I want to talk to –
not the mask you wear for the world;
you as you really are –
the face you show, the face you hide,
the person you love, the person you hate.
They’re both you,
two halves of the same whole,
inseparable as light and dark,
substance and shadow,
and unless you bring all,
openly and honestly before me,
you bring nothing.
You’re not perfect – I know that –
but I don’t ask you to be;
it’s not me who twists the knife, only yourself.
I love you as you are,
with all your faults and fragile faith,
and I’ll go on loving you day after day,
drawing you closer to me
not as a condition but an expression of that love.
So come now, gladly and confidently,
bring yourself with head bent low
but soul held high,
and find in me your kindest critic
and truest friend.