"He continued all night in prayer to God."--Luke, vi. 12.
We speak of _this_ Christian and _that_ Christian as "a man of prayer."
Jesus was emphatically so. The Spirit was "poured upon Him without
measure," yet--_He prayed_! He was incarnate wisdom, "needing not that
any should teach Him." He was infinite in His power, and boundless in
His resources, yet--_He prayed_! How deeply sacred the prayerful
memories that hover around the solitudes of Olivet and the shores of
Tiberias! He seemed often to turn night into day to redeem moments for
prayer, rather than lose the blessed privilege.
We are rarely, indeed, admitted into the solemnities of His inner life.
The veil of night is generally between us and the Great High Priest,
when He entered "the holiest of all;" but we have enough to reveal the
depth and fervor, the tenderness and confidingness of this blissful
intercommunion with His heavenly Father. No morning dawns without His
fetching fresh manna from the mercy-seat. "He wakeneth morning by
morning; He wakeneth mine ear to hear as the learned." (Isa. l. 4).
Beautiful description!--a praying Redeemer, wakening, as if at early
dawn, the ear of His Father, to get fresh supplies for the duties and
the trials of the day! All His public acts were consecrated by
prayer,--His baptism, His transfiguration, His miracles, His agony, His
death. He breathed away His spirit in prayer. "His last breath," says
Philip Henry, "was praying breath."
How sweet to think, in holding communion with God--_Jesus_ drank of this
very brook! He consecrated the bended knee and the silent chamber. He
refreshed His fainting spirit at the same great Fountain-head from which
it is life for us to draw and death to forsake.
Reader! do you complain of your languid spirit, your drooping faith,
your fitful affections, your lukewarm love? May you not trace much of
what you deplore to an unfrequented chamber? The treasures are locked up
from you, because you have suffered the key to rust; the hands hang down
because they have ceased to be uplifted in prayer. Without prayer!--It
is the pilgrim without a staff--the seaman without a compass--the
soldier going unarmed and unharnessed to battle.
Beware of encouraging what indisposes to prayer--going to the audience
chamber with soiled garments, the din of the world following you, its
distracting thoughts hovering unforbidden over your spirit. Can you
wonder that the living water refuses to flow through obstructed
channels, or the heavenly light to pierce murky vapors!
On earth, fellowship with a lofty order of minds imparts a certain
nobility to the character; so, in a far higher sense, by communion with
God you will be transformed into His image, and get assimilated to His
likeness. Make every event in life a reason for fresh going to Him. If
difficulted in duty, bring it to the test of prayer. If bowed down with
anticipated trial,--"fearing to enter the cloud,"--remember Christ's
preparation, "Sit ye here while I go and _pray_ yonder."
Let prayer consecrate every thing--your time, talents, pursuits,
engagements, joys, sorrows, crosses, losses. By it, rough paths will be
made smooth, trials disarmed of their bitterness, enjoyments hallowed
and refined, the bread of the world turned into angels' food. "It is in
the closet," says Payson, "the battle is lost or won!"
"ARM YOURSELVES LIKEWISE WITH THE SAME MIND."
Tenth Day.