Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit,
and watching thereunto with all perseverance.--_Eph. 6, 18._
Among the things that people believed in olden times was a certain
stone, called a touchstone. By means of this stone it was claimed
one could determine whether a gem or a precious piece of jewelry was
genuine or not. The sham diamond might glitter ever so brightly, the
sham gold externally deceive the eye, let the touchstone be applied,
and its real character would at once appear. Spiritually, in
religion, there is such a touchstone by which those who profess to
serve God can discover whether they are genuine Christians or not,
whether their religion is pure gold or inferior metal, whether their
faith is a gem of great price or only worthless imitation, useless
dross. That touchstone of true spiritual life is prayer, communion
with his God, for as a man communeth with his God, so he is. How,
then, does this touchstone apply to you? Are you a man, or woman, of
prayer? What sort of Christian are you?
Nor can it be said that we need no instruction on this subject. We
must be taught to pray just as we must be taught how to write and
talk correctly. Let us, then, in all simplicity, with plainness of
speech and practicalness of purpose, consider. _I. When, II. where,
and III. how we should pray_: and may God's Holy Spirit, the Lord of
Prayer, attend with His blessing our meditation.
There are many passages in Holy Scripture which seem to command
impossibilities, and we tacitly pass them by as not intended for us.
This cannot be a wise or safe thing to do, for God does not command
impossibilities. So with the text, "Praying always." In other places
we read, "Pray without ceasing," "Continue constant in prayer." Our
first thought may be, That's beyond us. How, in this busy life of
ours, shall we ever be able to give ourselves over to never-ceasing
prayer? A few minutes a day, a special prayer occasionally at
special seasons or special emergencies, that's about all we can
afford. That is a mistaken notion of these texts of prayer. It is a
familiar expression: "Prayer is the Christian's vital breath," the
Christian's native air. We are always breathing. Ceasing to breathe
means death. So with the spiritual life. For a person not to pray
means spiritual death. Every one who is a Christian prays; not to
pray stamps him as a non-Christian.
And yet, as in the bodily sphere a distinction exists between
breathing and using that breath for speaking, so we must draw a
distinction between "prayer" and "saying prayers." A Christian,
as he is always breathing naturally, so he is always breathing
spiritually. He lives a life of prayer; he is always in such a state
of faith and heart and spirit that he can lift up his heart in
prayer. Even when we are silent, we breathe; even when a Christian
is not "saying prayers," engaged in forms of worship, he is in a
spiritual frame of mind, and is living a life of prayer. To pray
always is to live as in God's presence, to be constantly conscious
of Him.
And still, true as it is that a Christian is always living a life
of prayer, there must be times for prayer--times when we engage in
"saying prayers." There is more in this matter of habit than many
persons think. It means regularity, and makes it both easy and
pleasant. There is no absolute rule on this subject, no technical
limit. Each one must determine himself how often he ought to pray
daily. David, in the Psalm, says, "Evening and morning and at noon
will I pray." Daniel was accustomed to kneel upon his knees three
times a day. There is, if we may so speak, a natural propriety in
thus thrice addressing the throne of grace. Three times a day we
are accustomed to feed our bodies, and this very act may suggest
to us that our souls need similar attention. "Men shall not live
by bread alone." We have our blessed Lord's example for it. The
holiest and most fruitful Christian lives have been lived by men
and women who thus prayed not less than three times a day. The
early Christians were exemplary in the discharge of this duty. What
Christian, arising from his bed in the morning, can neglect his
prayer? Everything seems to invite him to lift up his heart unto
God. When we arise from our beds, it is like a resurrection from the
dead, and it seems almost impossible for a pious mind not to view it
in that divine light, thanking God for his waking; and as he sallies
forth from his home, not knowing what a day may bring forth, and
feeling his weakness and frailty and danger, the temptation to which
he is every moment exposed, how can he do it without first raising
his eyes and thoughts on high, committing himself to the faithful
Creator, and invoking His protection and strength? Moreover,
knowing that everything is resting upon His blessing, he should
invoke it upon the occupation of his mind and hands.
Direct, control, suggest this day,
All I may deign, or do, or say,
That all my powers, with all their might,
In Thy sole glory may unite.
When we thus go forth into the world, it is with an atmosphere of
devotion around us.
And then again at night-time, when we have given all our strength
to the work of our calling, tired and exhausted from the toil of
the day, and our couches invite us to repose, who can look back
on the blessings of the day without being moved to gratitude to
Him who kept us safely through it? There was this and that of the
day's transaction that deserves a calm retrospect in the sight of
the Lord, confession of one's discrepancy and wrong-doing. And who
can resign himself to sleep, the emblem of death, and to his bed,
the type of his grave, without saying a few words of Christian
committal? And who, during the day, cannot find a few moments to
lift up his thoughts on high? Nor, beloved fellow-Christians and
church-members, neglect to speak grace at your table; there are
blessings, direct and indirect, which connect with that pious
and time-honored custom which no household can afford to forego.
Frequently the only time when the family meets during the day, it
forms a link of spirituality between its members. It is no little
means of keeping the devil out and bringing the dove of peace back.
Permit not this grand old and well-tried custom to lapse into
disuse; hold fast to it as a sacred heirloom transmitted from your
godly parents. Thus have your fixed, established season of prayer.
And it is good not only to have stated times, but also stated places
for prayers. This is our second consideration: Where? You can pray
anywhere. You can hold audience with God at your own option. The
place is not essential to prayer. Peter prayed on the housetop,
Paul in prison, Daniel in the lions' den, Jonah in the fish's
belly. The Lord is everywhere, and His ears are always open to the
cries of His people. But the law of association is the friend of
religion. As you speed to your labors in the morning, as you sit
for recuperation in the shade of one of our beautiful parks, as you
are busy with your duties in kitchen and workshop, your heart can
go out to God in devotion. And so it is well to have a little nook
somewhere, a spot especially suggestive to us of prayer. There
is help in this. Daniel had his spot, where, when he came in from
the excitement of the court, he could kneel down and pray to his
God. His window opened towards Jerusalem, not accidentally, but by
special arrangement, and his eyes swept over the western hills until
vision was lost in the distance; his imagination swept onward till
he stood in the courts of the Lord's house on Zion's hill, heard
its holy songs, and inhaled the incense that arose from its sacred
altars. There is something dear to us in such a spot. Our Lord,
in His direction on prayer, enjoins: "Enter into thy closet and
pray." It was the custom of the Jews to have certain private rooms
on the flat top of their homes which they especially reserved for
devotional purposes. One such place you certainly ought to have.
God in His Word calls our churches "houses of prayer." It is a
significant title. Not only preaching ought to employ us in the
holy place, for what profit is there in preaching, the best of
preaching, if there is no outgoing of the heart to God? No singing,
no music that has not in it the element of devotion can make melody
in His ear. Prayer is an essential part of our service, at the
altar and in the pulpit; and it ought to be in the pew. It is here
at least, in God's temple, that the Christian soul ought to find a
spot, and regularly, where, amid the distressing scenes of earth,
it can come to itself, where it can feel and commune in the ear of
God, where, lifting itself above the sordidness and the perversity
of this earth, it can bathe in the invigorating atmosphere of a
nobler world, and draw inspiration for the affairs of life, in a few
moments of communion with a Higher Power. Let, I beseech you, this
house be to you a house of prayer, and have a similar place in your
own home. There's wisdom and great help in that.
Having answered the _when_ and _where_, let us now note the _how_.
By this we do not mean the posture in prayer, whether we ought to
pray standing or kneeling; neither do we mean whether we ought to
use a fixed prayer, committed to memory, or pray extempore, out of
the heart, finding our own words. I do not think it is wise to use
no form as a rule. Extempore prayers are apt to lack both orderly
arrangement and fullness, and when weary or dull, or our thoughts
are wandering, we cannot make prayers for ourselves,--we want to
have a form of devout words put into our mouths. Those simple,
yet stately prayers of our Catechism and hymn-book have been,
and are still, the inspiration of thousands of the most devout of
God's children. And yet, there is one danger. Using a regular form
of prayer statedly may lead to listlessness and lifelessness. It
is not only the Romanist who, counting his beads and making his
crossings and prostrations, nor the Mohammedan, who at the priest's
call from the mosque falls upon his knees, who does not pray, but
the Protestant may say or read his addresses to God, and yet not
pray. There is a difference between saying prayer and praying.
Prayer, to be right, must be offered up in the spirit of prayer,
and by the spirit of prayer is meant a devotional tone and temper
of the mind and the heart. Reads our text: "Praying always with
all prayer and supplication in the Spirit." It is the heart that
prays, not the knees, nor the hands, nor the lips. To hasten over
the words heedlessly, anxious to be done as quickly as possible,
to do it because it's a custom, and perhaps with a superstitious
fear that if we do not do it, something might befall us, is making
a mockery of prayer. We ought to pray, but we must pray in earnest,
with faith, reverence, sincerity, as if we meant it. As it has been
expressed: God does not look at the arithmetic of our prayers, how
many there may be; nor does He look at the logic of our prayers, how
methodical and nicely arranged they may be; nor at the rhetoric,
how beautiful they may be. What He looks at is the sincerity of
our prayers, how earnest they are. And lose not the Spirit in your
prayers; that is the one direction of to-day's text. And the other
is, "Praying always with all perseverance," _i. e._, prayer must
be constant, unceasing. The Apostle knew the defects of earth-born
man, and, knowing, bids them to beware of being tardy in their
prayer. There is a good reason why. Prayer is spiritual breath, we
said. If a man's breathing is bad, if it is hurried, fitful, some
mortal mischief is at work. Even so spiritually. If our prayers are
hurried, if they are irregular, if we regard them as disagreeable
duties, if they are not the natural and necessary consequences of
our spiritual life, natural and necessary as breathing is to every
living man, then that life is sadly weak and diseased. Why are we
so weak in Christian faith? why so wayward and sluggish in our
Christian life? Why have sinful habits such power over us? It is
because we breathe, _i. e._, pray, so badly. How is it possible to
work for God, or fight for Him, if we are tardy in holding communion
with Him?
Think it over, my dear fellow-Christian, and may it aid you in
making you a man, a woman, of prayer! For what is a man of prayer?
See yonder mountain. Below is its gigantic base; then your eye runs
up the mountain side, and you see--what? That the peak is lost in
the clouds. So is the man of prayer. His feet stand upon the earth,
his heart is in the clouds; there is a something that keeps him in
constant communion with God. There lies his strength. We call it
"prayer." Amen.