Praying Slow….
My friend loses her mother to death suddenly, and I say, “I’m so sorry. I’ll pray for you.” My husband, facing a difficult work day, will hear me say, “It’ll be ok, sweetie. I’ll pray for you.” My daughters struggle with work, with relationships, with being good moms, and I assure them, “I’m praying for you.” A friend shares her diagnosis. I hear of the passing of a loved one - and my words resonate in my ears, “I’ll pray for you.”
For many of us, promising to pray for another person is often automatic, a promise made in the moment of polite concern. It's something to say when we don't have words in the face of a friend’s problems, a nagging concern, a gut-punch tragedy. But do we mean what we say? Do we really go home, get on our knees, and intercede for another?
I’m afraid not. We don’t always understand just how powerful prayer can be.
Why are we so casual about this amazing super-power? Why do we dispense it as if we are giving away penny candy? When we say we’ll pray for family, for friends, for world peace, do we expect any answers? Do we trust He is listening? Do we want a miracle -or do we even believe a miracle is possible? And if we don’t see results right away, do we think what many think, “Well, God answered my prayer. He said no.”…and then give up, move on to other things and other prayers, our hearts minutely scarred from the disappointment of unanswered prayer.
The hard thing is that those tiny scars, small as they are, build up, one upon the other, until the heart is hardened with so much scar tissue, it is immobile, inflexible, brittle. After a time, there is no room for prayer or hope or love. "Hope deferred makes the heart sick." (Proverbs 13:12 NASB). Perhaps, too, a sick heart has no room for hope.
I wonder if our attitudes toward prayer have become part of the high-paced paradigm of today’s “instant” world. We live in the age of the “instant”. Instant gratification, instant communication, faster than fast smartphones and computers. Ever newer models of our techno-devices tout ever faster processors, and we are sucked in to the new, the better, the faster. We order up our stuff in cyberspace and join that special club that brings us all our stuff in two days or less, and we beam with pride. Yep. Fast! Food is fast, sometimes barely needing to stop the car as we drive-through and pick-up our latest instant meal. We cook fast, we eat fast, we drive fast. There is only fast, and faster and fastest.
But God doesn’t work in the “fast”; His pace is the slow and measured pace of the holy. There is nothing “instant” about God and His universe. God is above and over time. “Instant” means nothing to Him. If we gauge the success of our prayers by how quickly they are answered, we are guaranteed to be disappointed because of our failure to understand how God works. It’s not that God cannot “do fast”— of course He can. Many can testify to the “instant miracle” God brought into their lives. But instant miracles are not the norm, nor is the miracle itself God’s intent.
God is all about process.
To illustrate: I’m an avid knitter. And in the knitting world there is a question posed to the knitter as a philosophical approach to the craft: are you a knitter focused on process or product? Is it all about the scarf, the hat or the sweater that is being made? Or is it the very act of knitting itself that you appreciate above all? Are you the knitter always seeking new tips and tricks to knit faster, taking short cuts and coming up with that knitted piece more quickly? Or is it about the slow, gentle rhythmic clicking of the needles, the measured pace of watching two sticks and a ball of yarn magically transform into a tangible bit of beauty, all the while giving pause to your day, rest to your mind, peace to your soul?
God is a bit like that. He is all about process. When we are commanded to pray, it is not about what God will give us or do for us, but how He will transform us. It is as much about internal change as external gain. In my own life, some of the greatest answers to prayer took years. One gut-wrenching, tear-drenching prayer took over ten years to bear the fruit of what I asked, but in those ten years, I was transformed from the inside out while my faith grew deeper, and my heart grew sweeter. My husband and I have both seen our prayers over our work situations take years to come about, but also experienced personal growth in the process of the praying.
Prayer is simple. Prayer is complex. Prayer is as easy as whispering 'Good Morning' to Papa God, or 'Help me' when troubled or discouraged. Jesus taught us to pray, and the Bible is filled with prayers and psalms whispered and sung over thousands of years. Prayer is not new. It is as old as man himself, but as fresh as a newborn who expresses his joy in his birth with lusty cries and newly sprung, salty tears. And prayer that matters, that changes lives and circumstances and people, prayer that alters universes and the very course of life, is slow and measured. It is full of faith and hope.
Prayer prayed at the same pace as my slow and steady heart beat will not only be answered…eventually; but it will always transform me. It will heal my heart, and fill it with hope and peace.
Prayer is a slow, holy and treasured practice. Take the time, and take your time. Pray and be transformed.
