Think as Jesus Taught

Why I Don't Pray: Part 1

It's not exactly true that I don't pray at all, but I don't pray much; I don't pray well; and when I do pray, it feels nothing like Oswald describes: "the breath from our lungs and the blood from our hearts." The closest thing I have experienced to that description is the practice I learned from Kathy Bruner: "Breathe in grace. Breathe out confession of sin. Breathe in grace." And occasionally, I remember Kathy's suggestion, especially when I'm stressed.

Most of the time, however, I think my failure to pray is directly connected to my ambivalence about what it means to have a relationship with God. Relationship certainly entails conversation, at least in my book, and I value conversation quite highly. Part of what I value, however, has to do with the opportunity to interject my personal perspective, my insight on a subject. This isn't really necessary with God. He doesn't need my perspective. I really have nothing to offer in a conversation with him. He knows not only my thoughts, my history of experiences, my take on things, but every thought of every human being, the wealth of human experience from every possible angle, and more importantly, he has the omniscient, omnipotent perspective covered as well. What point is there in my saying anything? I can listen, yes, but that is not really conversation.

I took Oswald's thoughts with me as I walked this morning, and I wrestled through all my objections to prayer on the way up the hill. On the way down, quite near the end actually, this thought came to me: Perhaps he enjoys listening to me.

I'm not sure I can really explain how foreign that idea is to me. It's very foreignness suggests that it might be an idea from outside my own head. Part, in fact, of a conversation.