Most of what I've written on this site about personal prayer has been applicable to corporate prayer, but I've assumed that we need a healthy personal prayer life before we can pray effectively with others. Yet the reverse is also true. If we're not spending time praying with other Christians, our own prayer life is likely to suffer.
Praying with other Christians, whether in twos and threes or with a larger group, has many benefits. I've already mentioned one - it helps us to be disciplined in prayer. It would be sad if the only time we prayed was when we were together with other people, but being in a group does mean that we have a commitment to pray for which we are accountable to others.
Praying with others helps to move our focus away from our own needs and onto a wider perspective. It will depend on the size and nature of the group whether that means praying for local issues or the work of God worldwide. It can be helpful to pray with groups of different sizes - a prayer triplet with a couple of close friends, and the church prayer group, for instance.
In corporate prayer, we learn more about how to pray from others. I was intending to write "younger Christians learn from more mature Christians" but the reverse is just as true. None of us knows everything there is to know about prayer. We can observe and learn much about styles of praying from those who are from a different background or temperment from ourselves. We can also learn about how others deal with problems in prayer, such as prayers that seem to go unanswered.
Praying together helps to create and preserve unity amongst people. One of Satan's purposes is to divide and destroy the church. When we pray together, agreeing on what we pray in the name of Jesus, we thwart his purposes. It may take quite an effort to find this unity. Prayer groups aren't always harmonious. But the necessity of coming to agreement on what to pray can help to overcome other differences.
We tend instinctively to ask others to pray with us when we have some urgent need - a critical illness, for instance, or an important up-coming event. Perhaps sometimes this is motivated by the (wrong) idea that God will be moved by numbers. God can hear and answer the prayer of just one person. But the unity created by many people praying in Jesus' name for the same thing is important.
When we pray together, we are able to remind each other of answered prayers. We can share our hopes and longings, our disappointments and difficulties in prayer. Other people's prayers may become the vehicle for God speaking to us about something we need to hear.
When we're struggling to pray, just being with others praying can help to keep us faithful, even if we don't add our own prayers to theirs. For those who are isolated by geography, ill health or imprisonment, knowing that others are meeting together to pray for them is a great encouragement.
26 July 2009
25 July 2009
Your temptations and mine
Temptation is a peculiarly personal thing. What seems enticing to one person can be quite neutral or even repulsive to another. Some temptations are common to everyone. But our genetics, upbringing, education, experience and culture all have an impact on what temptations we will find most difficult to deal with.
For example, I like a glass of wine with dinner. Maybe even a couple of glasses sometimes. But the idea of drinking the whole bottle in one sitting never enters my head. In fact, I so dislike the feeling of being intoxicated that the idea seems quite repugnant. I don't have to fight the temptation. It just doesn't exist for me.
Yet I know people who can't have one drink without being tempted to go on drinking until they're unconscious. The temptation is all but irresistible. The only way to overcome it is to avoid drinking alcohol altogether, which is not an easy thing to do in our society.
On the other hand, failing to speak up when I should is an ever-present temptation for me. Being naturally timid, and brought up not to say anything that might cause offense, I have to fight against this temptation every day. I wonder sometimes what it would be like to be one of those people who say whatever is on their mind without fear.
That is not to say that we can excuse certain sins because we are particularly prone to some temptations. Each of us still has to resist temptation when it occurs. But we need to be careful in how we judge others when they're struggling against temptations that we ourselves do not face. What do I know of how it feels to resist drinking alcohol to excess?
I've been thinking about this recently in relation to the attitude prevalent amongst some Christians towards homosexuality. Those who teach have a duty to explore what the Bible says about homosexual activity. But I've never heard a speaker confess that they have struggled with this temptation themselves. Usually no help is offered to people who are trying to deal with the temptation. It is simply condemned.
What's more, it's often not just the activity that is condemned, but being gay per se. I suspect this is sometimes just a careless choice of words. How can we condemn someone for being attracted to people of the same sex? None of us chooses what we find attractive. ("Let's see - yesterday I chose to find red cars attractive, so today I think I'll be attracted to green ones instead.") It's only in what we do with our attractions that we have a choice.
The Bible is quite clear that it is giving way to temptation, not being tempted, that is the problem. Jesus himself was tempted, yet did not sin. And notice that Satan chose temptations that were particularly potent for Jesus but probably quite meaningless to most of us. The writer to Hebrews tells us that because Jesus has faced the anguish of being tempted, he is able to help those who are tempted and deals gently and sympathetically with them (Hebrews 2:18, Heb 4:15).
Whatever our own particular weakness, we all know what it feels like to be tempted, and how difficult it can be to resist. If we've never faced the temptation to get into a sexual relationship with someone of the same gender, we need to be very careful in how we talk to, and about, those who have. Who knows, there may even be Christians struggling with homosexual temptation in our own congregations. Does what we say encourage them to go on resisting, and keep seeking forgiveness and grace when they fail, or does it drive them away?
For example, I like a glass of wine with dinner. Maybe even a couple of glasses sometimes. But the idea of drinking the whole bottle in one sitting never enters my head. In fact, I so dislike the feeling of being intoxicated that the idea seems quite repugnant. I don't have to fight the temptation. It just doesn't exist for me.
Yet I know people who can't have one drink without being tempted to go on drinking until they're unconscious. The temptation is all but irresistible. The only way to overcome it is to avoid drinking alcohol altogether, which is not an easy thing to do in our society.
On the other hand, failing to speak up when I should is an ever-present temptation for me. Being naturally timid, and brought up not to say anything that might cause offense, I have to fight against this temptation every day. I wonder sometimes what it would be like to be one of those people who say whatever is on their mind without fear.
That is not to say that we can excuse certain sins because we are particularly prone to some temptations. Each of us still has to resist temptation when it occurs. But we need to be careful in how we judge others when they're struggling against temptations that we ourselves do not face. What do I know of how it feels to resist drinking alcohol to excess?
I've been thinking about this recently in relation to the attitude prevalent amongst some Christians towards homosexuality. Those who teach have a duty to explore what the Bible says about homosexual activity. But I've never heard a speaker confess that they have struggled with this temptation themselves. Usually no help is offered to people who are trying to deal with the temptation. It is simply condemned.
What's more, it's often not just the activity that is condemned, but being gay per se. I suspect this is sometimes just a careless choice of words. How can we condemn someone for being attracted to people of the same sex? None of us chooses what we find attractive. ("Let's see - yesterday I chose to find red cars attractive, so today I think I'll be attracted to green ones instead.") It's only in what we do with our attractions that we have a choice.
The Bible is quite clear that it is giving way to temptation, not being tempted, that is the problem. Jesus himself was tempted, yet did not sin. And notice that Satan chose temptations that were particularly potent for Jesus but probably quite meaningless to most of us. The writer to Hebrews tells us that because Jesus has faced the anguish of being tempted, he is able to help those who are tempted and deals gently and sympathetically with them (Hebrews 2:18, Heb 4:15).
Whatever our own particular weakness, we all know what it feels like to be tempted, and how difficult it can be to resist. If we've never faced the temptation to get into a sexual relationship with someone of the same gender, we need to be very careful in how we talk to, and about, those who have. Who knows, there may even be Christians struggling with homosexual temptation in our own congregations. Does what we say encourage them to go on resisting, and keep seeking forgiveness and grace when they fail, or does it drive them away?
19 July 2009
Finding time to pray
There have been times in our married life when my husband and I have been so busy that we've barely seen each other. When we were both working on rosters that included night shifts, we sometimes didn't even spend the nights together. At such times, every spare moment we got together was precious, and we looked forward eagerly to spending a decent amount of time with each other.
But there have also been times when, despite being home together evening after evening, one or both of us have been so engrossed in our own activities and interests that we've hardly spoken to each other. Conversations haven't gone much beyond 'how was your day?' We've taken each other for granted. When such times have gone on for too long, we've started to feel ourselves drifting apart.
One of the things that has helped to bring us back together (apart from recognising what was going on) has been to set aside a time each week when we're committed to actively spending time together. Nothing short of major family events or crises take precedence over that time.
Drawing analogies between marriage and our relationship with God is nothing novel. (It's even biblical!) And there are some weaknesses in the analogy (e.g. God is never unfaithful or unavailable). But still, I find it helpful to look at my prayer life and compare it with my married life. When I genuinely can't find time to spend alone in prayer, I look forward to the time when it will be possible again. But there are also times when, quite frankly, I don't make the effort to pray despite having plenty of time. Other things become more engrossing. I find myself starting to drift away from God.
It's then that I recognise the value in having a regular prayer time - not necessarily daily, but at a set time - which takes precedence over everything else. It's also helpful to have a committment to praying with others regularly (but more of that later.)
But there have also been times when, despite being home together evening after evening, one or both of us have been so engrossed in our own activities and interests that we've hardly spoken to each other. Conversations haven't gone much beyond 'how was your day?' We've taken each other for granted. When such times have gone on for too long, we've started to feel ourselves drifting apart.
One of the things that has helped to bring us back together (apart from recognising what was going on) has been to set aside a time each week when we're committed to actively spending time together. Nothing short of major family events or crises take precedence over that time.
Drawing analogies between marriage and our relationship with God is nothing novel. (It's even biblical!) And there are some weaknesses in the analogy (e.g. God is never unfaithful or unavailable). But still, I find it helpful to look at my prayer life and compare it with my married life. When I genuinely can't find time to spend alone in prayer, I look forward to the time when it will be possible again. But there are also times when, quite frankly, I don't make the effort to pray despite having plenty of time. Other things become more engrossing. I find myself starting to drift away from God.
It's then that I recognise the value in having a regular prayer time - not necessarily daily, but at a set time - which takes precedence over everything else. It's also helpful to have a committment to praying with others regularly (but more of that later.)
14 July 2009
Returning to prayer
As a deer pants for flowing streams,
so pants my soul for you, O God.
My soul thirsts for God,
for the living God.
When shall I come and appear before God?
(Psalm 42 verses 1-2)
How do you feel when you haven't prayed for a while? Perhaps you've been exceptionally busy, or had no privacy to pray. You've said 'amen' to the prayers at church and murmured a few quick "arrow prayers", but you haven't spent significant time alone with God in prayer for days. And then, finally, you have the time and the space to get away and pray.
Do you feel like the psalmist, longing and thirsting to come before God and fill the emptiness within? Or do you feel guilty and distant and unsure of where to start? Perhaps, like me, you experience a mixture of both, as the new self in Christ battles with the old, fearful self. Part of me desperately wants to pray, but another part of me wallows in self-condemnation and I wonder how to approach the God I've been neglecting for so long.
Ironically, I find this sense of condemnation that comes with lack of prayer is one of the greatest barriers to prayer. But where does it come from? Why does our image of God start to change from that of our heavenly Father to something more like an irritable elderly relative waiting for a late Christmas card from us? Or worse?
Some of it comes from not understanding (or reminding ourselves) of the difference between real guilt and false guilt. Real guilt arises from something we've done that is not consistent with who we are as children of God. It causes us to feel concern for the person we've wronged, whether another human being or God. It produces what Paul called 'godly sorrow' and leads to repentance, both of which drive us towards God.
If we have been deliberately avoiding prayer, the Holy Spirit will keep prompting us to return and seek forgiveness from the God who grieves at our hardness of heart but does not condemn those who are in Christ Jesus (Romans 8.1).
False guilt, on the other hand, is based on fear. It arises because we're afraid of what others think of us and produces feelings of shame. It may be that we've done something which is actually sinful, but our concern is not that we've grieved God or another person. Instead we're afraid that we've done something for which God or others will condemn us. This fear then opens us up to the accusations of 'the great accuser'.
So, in the context of prayer, we'll experience shame that we're not living up to some human notion of how much time a 'good' Christian ought to spend in prayer. We'll then find all sorts of reasons provided to avoid praying. We're not good enough. It's too difficult. We'll never pray like this or that Christian, so we're a failure. We're not comfortable approaching a God who is surely angry and condemning towards us.
Instead we should thumb our nose at the accuser and approach God with the confidence of a child returning home after a busy day. Our confidence is not in our willingness or ability to pray, but in his willingness to accept us and make us welcome.
so pants my soul for you, O God.
My soul thirsts for God,
for the living God.
When shall I come and appear before God?
(Psalm 42 verses 1-2)
How do you feel when you haven't prayed for a while? Perhaps you've been exceptionally busy, or had no privacy to pray. You've said 'amen' to the prayers at church and murmured a few quick "arrow prayers", but you haven't spent significant time alone with God in prayer for days. And then, finally, you have the time and the space to get away and pray.
Do you feel like the psalmist, longing and thirsting to come before God and fill the emptiness within? Or do you feel guilty and distant and unsure of where to start? Perhaps, like me, you experience a mixture of both, as the new self in Christ battles with the old, fearful self. Part of me desperately wants to pray, but another part of me wallows in self-condemnation and I wonder how to approach the God I've been neglecting for so long.
Ironically, I find this sense of condemnation that comes with lack of prayer is one of the greatest barriers to prayer. But where does it come from? Why does our image of God start to change from that of our heavenly Father to something more like an irritable elderly relative waiting for a late Christmas card from us? Or worse?
Some of it comes from not understanding (or reminding ourselves) of the difference between real guilt and false guilt. Real guilt arises from something we've done that is not consistent with who we are as children of God. It causes us to feel concern for the person we've wronged, whether another human being or God. It produces what Paul called 'godly sorrow' and leads to repentance, both of which drive us towards God.
If we have been deliberately avoiding prayer, the Holy Spirit will keep prompting us to return and seek forgiveness from the God who grieves at our hardness of heart but does not condemn those who are in Christ Jesus (Romans 8.1).
False guilt, on the other hand, is based on fear. It arises because we're afraid of what others think of us and produces feelings of shame. It may be that we've done something which is actually sinful, but our concern is not that we've grieved God or another person. Instead we're afraid that we've done something for which God or others will condemn us. This fear then opens us up to the accusations of 'the great accuser'.
So, in the context of prayer, we'll experience shame that we're not living up to some human notion of how much time a 'good' Christian ought to spend in prayer. We'll then find all sorts of reasons provided to avoid praying. We're not good enough. It's too difficult. We'll never pray like this or that Christian, so we're a failure. We're not comfortable approaching a God who is surely angry and condemning towards us.
Instead we should thumb our nose at the accuser and approach God with the confidence of a child returning home after a busy day. Our confidence is not in our willingness or ability to pray, but in his willingness to accept us and make us welcome.
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