What is Spirituality? Part VII: Prayer

Daughter Jessi

So what is prayer? In a way it is very simple. However, that does mean it is easy. We find it much more difficult than we thought to move beyond Illusion to Prayer.

The simple part is that Jesus makes it very clear what prayer at its deepest level is. He tells us, in the Lord’s Prayer--the prayer he gave us--“Thy will be done.” Then he demonstrates what this means at the end of his life. Going to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray, he says: “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup [of suffering] from me; yet, not my will but yours be done.” [Luke 22:42; NRSV] Matthew puts it this way: “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want.” [26:39b]

Garden of Gethsemane in Mount of Olives from a Trip in 2009

Now that would seem very simple. Yes, there are many different forms of prayer, from uplifting our fears and concerns to lamenting painful experiences in which we find ourselves to interceding on behalf of others. But the most profound prayer is finally giving up the illusion that we know what is best for ourselves and the world and turning all of life over to God. Yes, we, of course, will continue to share with God what we want and think we need and what we are hoping for. There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, other places in Scripture encourage us to do just that. Yet, in the end, prayer pushes us beyond what we want to submit to what God wants for us and the world.

The classic spiritual discipline that corresponds to this is submission, or obedience. These are not concepts we love much in our culture, and it is true that they can be used in negative and at times abusive ways. But, as Richard Foster points out in his book on the twelve classic spiritual disciplines, each, properly understood, has a kind of freedom. He writes: “What freedom corresponds to submission? It is the ability to lay down the terrible burden of always needing to get our own way. The obsession to demand that things go the way we want them to go is one of the greatest bondages in human society today. . . . . Self-denial is simply a way of coming to understand that we do not have to have our own way. Our happiness is not dependent upon getting what we want.” [Celebration of Discipline, 97, 99]

The 14^th century German mystic, Meister Eckhart, put it this way: “Obedience has no cares; it lacks no blessing. In the best prayer a person may offer, he will not say: ‘Give me virtue or a way,’ nor ‘Yes, Lord, give me thyself or life eternal,’ but only, ‘Lord, give me nothing but what you will . . . . .Perfectly to will what God wills, to want what God wants, is to have joy.” [3-4, 42]

The reason this is so difficult for us spiritually is the same reason it is so difficult for us psychologically. Most of us have several areas of life where we are “control freaks.” We try to control what is going on around us and we try to control our friends and children and partners. We keep finding that, in contrast, “letting go” is extremely difficult for us.

My daughter, Jessi, has struggled with depression and suicidal ideations since she was fifteen years old [which she has written about extensively; see a previous post: The Thing I Can’t Write About]. Her mother and I tried for weeks and months and years to do everything we could to try to protect her and keep her from death. We still keep doing those things. And we still worry, of course.

But eventually it became absolutely overwhelming to try to control her future: reading every expression, analyzing every behavior, constantly quizzing her about every place she went, whom she was with, what she was doing. Rather than becoming closer to her, we were driving her further away. Rather than helping her feel supported and loved, she was feeling we did not understand what she was going through and did not trust her.

One night I collapsed in a chair in grief and worry and fear. I turned to God and cried out: “Lord, I can’t do this anymore. This is destroying me and driving Jessi further from me. Lord, I know now that I can’t protect her. I can’t keep her safe. And so I turn her over to you. I place her in your hands. I will let go, and give her to you. From now on I will try to let you take the lead, and show me the way to love and support her.”

I’m not saying the worry and grief and fear disappeared, but I was finally able to breathe again. More importantly, once I quit trying to control Jessi’s life we were able to begin to build a new relationship of love and trust and understanding that keeps getting stronger every day. Now, several times a week, I will get a text: “Dad, do you want to chat?”

Jessi and Me at our Cabin, 2007

We so limit what life can be for ourselves and those we love when we only see prayer as a way to try to get what we think we want and need. We miss out on the grander vision God always has for us. We miss out on the great adventure life can be. Henri Nouwen describes this so well:

Prayer is often considered a weakness, a support system, which is used when we can no longer help ourselves. But this is only true when the God of our prayer is created in our own image and adapted to our own needs and concerns. When, however, prayer makes us reach out to God, not on our own, but on God’s terms, then prayer pulls us away from self-preoccupation, encourages us to leave familiar ground, and challenges us to enter into a new world which cannot be contained within the narrow boundaries of our mind or heart. Prayer, therefore, is a great adventure because the God with whom we enter into a new relationship is greater than we are and defies all our calculations and predictions. The movement from illusion to prayer is hard to make since it leads us from an easy support system to a risky surrender and from the many “safe” gods, to the God whose love has no limits. [Reaching Out, 89-90]