Prayer – a wondrous mystery

While attempting to learn more about prayer, I have made a concerted effort to draw from others their perceptions of prayer. I am receiving three types of comments:  1) those claiming prayer to be a challenging yet rewarding experience; 2) those stating prayer to be too intimate a subject for discussing with others; and 3) those indicating frustrations with prayer.

As regards the last two categories, three people whom I know well, felt free to tell exactly how they felt. One said, “I’m afraid to get very involved with God.” The second friend said, “God doesn’t answer my prayers. So why should I pray?”

The third said, “I pray, but I don’t listen for God to answer back. He might ask something or me that I’m not ready to do.”

Apparently a great number of people are either frustrated with prayer or have some fear about giving much of themselves to it.

Stop for a moment and ask yourself, is my prayer life as rewarding as I want it to be? Perhaps your answer is “yes.”  If so, I admire you. Personally, I spent a lot of my life during which prayer presented a dichotomy. On the one hand it brought hope, strength, peace and an awesome awareness of being loved. But on the other hand the mere thought of the word could bring frustration, guilt, anger and even fear.

Frustration came with feeling like a simpleton when trying to express myself to a holy, awesome God. It was also frustrating to attempt stilling an active mind—one so undisciplined that in a split second it could be off playing “hop-scotch” with memories or tomorrow’s plans.

Guilt came when I didn’t take time for prayer. Many days started like a shot out of a cannon and moved swiftly forward before landing with a thud on my pillow 16-20 hours later. On those days good resolutions ducked for cover and popped up later, blanketed with guilt.

Anger came at the thought of communicating with God at times when I was derailed by mistakes or needled with imperfections. Pride wanted perfection. And pride when wounded causes havoc.

At times, there was anger in thinking God had failed to hear my prayers. I slammed shut my window to heaven with questions like: “Why didn’t He save that young mother’s life so she could nurture and cherish her children? Why does that father, depressed from walking the streets looking for work, have to carry all that pain in his eyes?” Free will, yes, free will. But I would cry nonetheless, “God, isn’t there something more you can do?”

Upon truly listening, I could hear Him answer: “There is something you can do.” Then, through prayerful listening, I knew what that “something” was.

Perhaps that is another reason why prayer was so frustrating. God often offered challenges, and he has been known to require sacrifice. And my first inclinations are to escape sacrificing. Yet, on those occasions when obedience rules, indescribable joy follows. A joy that can only come in knowing that a sin-prone human heart has linked for a moment with a holy, limitless, loving God.

Little by little the guilt, the frustration, the anger fear and guilt are being absorbed as I step through that open door and find the power of love filling me as I have come to trust His acceptance of me . . . while the fires of life serve to strengthen and refine. The trust factor has escalated, putting the questions to rest.

As with the finding of any treasure, a price has to be paid. It takes a healthy slice of time each day to produce spiritual girth, empowering us to resist temptations and to die to what our fleshly desires lean toward. After the Holy Spirit is allowed to nourish, enrich and transform, His wisdom can be planted in a fallow, fertile heart.

The mind will always fight the discipline of being quiet, waiting and giving up control. But on those occasions when the will yields, the soul takes flight like a homing  pigeon and finds itself at home in the heart of  God. When this happens words could only be a hindrance.

Prayer can be about our needs and our desires. At times it is praise and thanksgiving. Other times, it is intercessions for others. At times prayer is action. Prayer is that wondrous mystery of communing with our Maker. It is restorative and restful, like coming home to rest after a trying, tiring day.

Joy Le Page Smith is a Board certified clinical chaplain, mental health counselor and author of four books. See her books at www.healing-with-Joy.com or Amazon.com.