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.)
Showing posts with label making time to pray. Show all posts
Showing posts with label making time to pray. Show all posts
19 July 2009
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.
17 May 2009
What is the place of a daily "quiet time"?
What is the place of a daily "quiet time"? Should we all set aside a regular time each day to pray? Consider two scenarios:
Simon wakes every morning at 5 am. He gets out of bed, gets a glass of water from the kitchen, then goes to the lounge room. For the next hour he reads his Bible and prays, using a Bible reading plan and a prayer diary that he carries everywhere with him. The diary contains dozens of prayer points which he works through systematically over the week. If he reads or hears of something during the day that he feels he should pray about, he writes it down in his prayer diary. He's been doing this for years.
Down the road, Cathy wakes at 5 am to the sound of the baby crying. As she stumbles out of bed, she silently prays "Lord, please give me the strength I need for today". By the time she's fed the baby, her two year old is wide awake and wanting her to play with him. For the rest of the day she's constantly busy looking after her family. As she goes about her activities, she silently prays for people and situations as they come to mind. The only time she gets to read her Bible is on Tuesday evening, when the children are asleep and her husband is out at a meeting.
Simon has the more traditional "quiet time". The benefit to Simon is that he begins each day with the Lord and his word, and that has an influence on the rest of his day. Others know that he can be relied upon to keep his word if he says "I'll pray for you." Yet Simon faces the temptation to think of himself as a better, more committed Christian because of the regular hours he spends in prayer (and the sleep he misses in order to pray). He may start to look down on those who don't pray as regularly as he does. He may also become dependent on the routine he has established rather than on God himself, and find himself rattled if anything keeps him from his morning prayer time.
Cathy has a vital, if less concentrated, prayer life. She's learning to depend on God and communicate with him moment by moment. She comes to Tuesday evening hungry to spend more time with him. The temptation she faces is to let her need for approval from other Christians lead her into feeling guilty that she doesn't have a daily quiet time. And there's always the risk that she will let her busy life become an excuse for gradually forgetting to pray and read altogether.
I don't know of any Biblical mandate for insisting that Christians have a daily "quiet time". A commitment to pray at a regular time each day is certainly a useful technique to help overcome the distractions that can keep us from ever praying. But it's not an end in itself, and carries no special merit. We're told to pray without ceasing. Each of us knows for ourselves whether or not we're praying "without ceasing", and with the right attitude towards God.
Simon wakes every morning at 5 am. He gets out of bed, gets a glass of water from the kitchen, then goes to the lounge room. For the next hour he reads his Bible and prays, using a Bible reading plan and a prayer diary that he carries everywhere with him. The diary contains dozens of prayer points which he works through systematically over the week. If he reads or hears of something during the day that he feels he should pray about, he writes it down in his prayer diary. He's been doing this for years.
Down the road, Cathy wakes at 5 am to the sound of the baby crying. As she stumbles out of bed, she silently prays "Lord, please give me the strength I need for today". By the time she's fed the baby, her two year old is wide awake and wanting her to play with him. For the rest of the day she's constantly busy looking after her family. As she goes about her activities, she silently prays for people and situations as they come to mind. The only time she gets to read her Bible is on Tuesday evening, when the children are asleep and her husband is out at a meeting.
Simon has the more traditional "quiet time". The benefit to Simon is that he begins each day with the Lord and his word, and that has an influence on the rest of his day. Others know that he can be relied upon to keep his word if he says "I'll pray for you." Yet Simon faces the temptation to think of himself as a better, more committed Christian because of the regular hours he spends in prayer (and the sleep he misses in order to pray). He may start to look down on those who don't pray as regularly as he does. He may also become dependent on the routine he has established rather than on God himself, and find himself rattled if anything keeps him from his morning prayer time.
Cathy has a vital, if less concentrated, prayer life. She's learning to depend on God and communicate with him moment by moment. She comes to Tuesday evening hungry to spend more time with him. The temptation she faces is to let her need for approval from other Christians lead her into feeling guilty that she doesn't have a daily quiet time. And there's always the risk that she will let her busy life become an excuse for gradually forgetting to pray and read altogether.
I don't know of any Biblical mandate for insisting that Christians have a daily "quiet time". A commitment to pray at a regular time each day is certainly a useful technique to help overcome the distractions that can keep us from ever praying. But it's not an end in itself, and carries no special merit. We're told to pray without ceasing. Each of us knows for ourselves whether or not we're praying "without ceasing", and with the right attitude towards God.
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