students of jesus

There are only two reasons I pray, and neither of them is very satisfying to me. In fact, the list of reasons I avoid praying is much longer than the reasons I do pray. (Yes, that’s right—you’ve been reading a spiritual formation blog written by someone who really sucks at prayer.)

First: Jesus told us to pray: so I pray, because Jesus is the boss.

He never says, “If you pray,” he says, “When you pray.” Jesus assumes we will pray. Three times before giving us an example of how to pray, he says, “When you pray.” (Matthew 6:5-15)

I pray because he expects it. I receive him as the Lord of Life, the wise guide without whom I’m lost. If he told me to turn left I would turn left—even if I didn’t understand why. The same with prayer: I don’t understand why but apparently he thinks it’s important. He tells stories about people who pray: old women powerless before wicked judges; tax collectors who beat their breasts and keep their eyes lowered, avoiding heaven’s gaze; proud Pharisees who boast before God about their goodness. Jesus tells me there are some kind of demons that only leave because of prayer and fasting (which accounts for why I still have a few fellow-travelers with me even after 40+ years of walking with him).

I’m not nearly smart enough to understand the whys or the workings of prayer, but I know how to do what I’m told, so I pray.

Second: I pray because I can’t seem to help myself.

I can’t help myself because it would be rude not to speak to someone who is with you every moment of the day. And I really believe that—no, I feel it.

This means I’m no good at set times of prayer. Setting an alarm doesn’t help. Neither does using a devotional. (Yes, that’s correct: I also write devotionals, which makes me something of a hypocrite.) But here’s the truth: I talk to Jesus throughout the day. Sometimes I ask the Father a question or two. And whenever I’m stuck, I ask the Holy Spirit for help. I can’t not pray.

The poets and writers of prayers don’t need to worry about competition from me. I don’t have eloquence of Saint Francis’ prayer, or the depth of Walter Brueggeman’s Prayers for Privileged People. Mostly, I’m looking to get out of trouble, or for a parking spot at the mall. I’m sure Jesus loves hearing from me all day (not).

That’s it. These are the only two reasons that compel me to pray. And here’s the really awful truth: I have more reasons not to pray than to pray:

Prayer requires forgiveness, and I hate that.

It requires listening, and I prefer talking.

It requires humility, and I’m filled with pride.

It requires faith, and I’m afraid unanswered prayer will expose my lack of faith.

It requires honesty, because the Father already knows my need, and I’d much rather lie to myself.

I don’t usually kneel to pray. I can’t remember the last time I folded my hands together, like you see in every picture of prayer. The closest I come to reverence is sometimes lighting a candle while I pray, and I get tired of praying long before the candle does.

Still, he calls me to prayer; and still, I can’t help it. Why do you pray?