View source for Chapter 7. Helps—Personal PRAYER

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<p>"Hear my prayer, Lord, and listen to my cry for help; do not be silent at my tears!" Psalm 39:12<br><br>
We all need <em>helps </em>in our Christian life. Of course, all the help we require, we can find in God. His is the <em>almighty arm </em>on which we should ever lean in our weakness; his is the <em>infinite life </em>from whose fullness we should ever draw for the refilling of our own exhausted life pitchers; his is the light that should ever shine upon our darkness for cheer, for comfort, for guidance, for joy. God is all we need.<br><br>
But we cannot see God with these mortal eyes; we cannot feel his bosom when we need to lean upon it; we cannot hear his voice when we listen for the word he may have to speak; we cannot carry our empty pitchers up to heaven, where God dwells, to have them refilled. We are <em>life vines </em>torn off the trellis—and trailing on the ground amid the dust and the weeds; and we cannot lift ourselves up to twine about the unseen supports which God's grace provides. We need something to help our dull senses—something we can see or hear or touch; something to interpret to our souls and bring near to them the spiritual things of divine love; something to which the tendrils of our life can cling, and which well lift them up and fasten them on the invisible realities of the spiritual world.<br><br>
And in loving mercy, in condescension to our weakness and spiritual dullness, God has provided for us such helps as we need. He brings us his blessings in ways that are adapted to our earthly state and capacity. He puts the rich supplies of his heavenly grace in cups from which we can drink—and sets them low down where we can reach them!<br><br>
One of the helps which God has provided is <strong>prayer</strong>. Without prayer no Christian life can exist. There are other spiritual helps from the lack of which we may suffer—but without which we may still live near to God; but to give up prayer—is to die.<br><br>
Why should we pray? Because God is our Father—and we are his children. It would be a most undutiful, unfilial, ungrateful child—who would live in a good and beautiful home, enjoying its comforts, blessed by its love—and who would never have anything to say to the father whose heart and hand make the home, and who provides its comforts and pleasures.<br><br>
We should pray, also, because <em>we need things which we can get only by prayer. </em>Some things we can pick up with our hands in this good world of our Father's—or buy with our money—or receive through our friends. But there are some things which we can get only directly from God himself, and only by asking him for them. He alone can <em>forgive our sins</em>; and unless we are forgiven, life is not worth living. He alone can give us a <em>new heart</em>; and unless we have a new heart, we can never enter heaven. He alone can give us <em>grace </em>to live a holy life, and keep us from sinking back into sin. He alone can help us to fight life's battles, and come out victorious at the end. He alone can lead us through death's valley—to glory. Indeed, we can do nothing without God. The <em>leaf quivering on the bough </em>is not more dependent upon the tree for its greenness and life—than we are dependent upon God for our very existence and for all blessings. We must pray—or perish!<br><br>
But <em>may </em>we pray? We look up, and we see no face in the heavens, no eye gazing down—nothing but sky and clouds or stars. We speak and then listen—but no <em>answer </em>comes to us; all is silence around us. Is there really anyone to hear? Or if there is—will he hear?<br><br>
There are millions of people on the earth, and there are millions of other worlds besides this. Astronomers tell us that our globe, if it were suddenly destroyed, would not be more missed in God's vast universe, than one leaf which you might pluck off a wayside bush would be missed from all the leaves on all the trees and forests of the earth! It may be that, like our planet, these other countless worlds have their millions of inhabitants. Will God hear the cry of one person among so many? Does he take notice of individuals? Does he have particular thought and care for each one?<br><br>
The Bible plainly answers these questions. It tells us that God is our Father; that He loves us as individuals—that He loves each one with special personal affections—as a human father loves each one of his children, though he have many. Yes—God thinks of His children, giving to the smallest, humblest of us—individual thought and care, watching over us, listening for our cry, ready always at any moment to give the help we need and seek.<br><br>
A little child imagined, that when she began to pray, God asked all the angels to stop singing and playing on their harps while he listened to her prayer, until she said "Amen." She was not far wrong in her imagination! God does not need to hush the angels' songs, to hear his child's prayer; but he hears it, nevertheless, amid all the noises of this great universe, just as truly and clearly as if every other voice was hushed!<br><br>
One of the Psalms represents God as inclining his hear to the suppliant on the earth to hear his cry, as a man bends down so as to bring his ear close to one who speaks, that he may catch every word. In another psalm are these remarkable words—"The Lord looked down from his sanctuary on high, from heaven he viewed the earth, to hear the groans of the prisoners." The Bible is full of just such human representations of God's interest in his children on the earth, and of his loving attention when they cry to him. We may pray—there is One who hears us! "Because he bends down and listens, I will pray as long as I have breath!" Psalm 116:2<br><br>
How shall we pray so as to be heard and to receive help? For one thing, there must be<strong> real desire </strong>in our hearts. <em>Forms of words, </em>do not make prayer—we must really desire something, and must realize our dependence upon God for it. Then we must come to him as <em>his children</em>. It was Christ himself who taught us to pray to "Our <em>Father</em>, who is in heaven." If we have the true child spirit which the using of this invocation implies, we shall make our requests with confidence, believing that <em>our Father loves us, and will deny us nothing that is for our real good.</em><br><br>
Of course, we must remember that God knows better than we do—what is best for us, and we must be willing, even when our desires are strongest and most impetuous, to say, "Nevertheless not my will—but yours, be done." We must let our Father decide whether the thing we ask is the thing we need. The thing we want might be <em>poison </em>to our life; if so, God will not give it to us—but, instead, will give us grace to do without it, which is an answer to our desire, and a far better answer than the thing we sought.<br><br>
Prayer should also be <strong>earnest</strong>. Two of our Lord's parables were spoken to impress this duty. If an unjust judge could be so moved by importunity, how much more will the loving heart of the heavenly Father yield to repeated supplication! The man at whose door the friend knocked at midnight gave the loaves—not because it was his friend who asked them—but because the friend would not go away without them. God is not moved by such base motives—but the parable is meant to show <em>the power of persevering importunity </em>in prayer. God wants to see his children in earnest; he loves to hear from suppliants, the burning words which tell of intense desire. One fervent, impassioned "I will not let you go—unless you bless me!" has more power with God—than whole years of cold, heartless, formal prayer!<br><br>
Of course, <em>importunity </em>must not become <em>rebelliousness</em>—in the greatest intensity of our praying we must ever be ready to acquiesce to God's will. Importunity has its limits. It may at length become evident that God does not want to give us what we desire; then we should cease to plead, with submissive faith accepting our Father's refusal. Thus our Lord himself in the garden was importunate—but from first to last he deferred all to his Father's will; and after having prayed three times—he ceased to plead, taking the <em>bitter cup </em>held out to him. Paul was importunate in pleading for the removal of the thorn which so troubled him—but, like his Master, he also was acquiescent; and after pleading three times he too ceased to urge his plea.<br><br>
There is little danger that we ever too earnestly or importunately press our desires for <em>spiritual </em>blessings, either for ourselves or for others. We know it is always God's will to give us more <em>grace</em>, to make us <em>holier </em>and <em>purer</em>, to bring out in us more clearly the features of the divine image, to give us more of the influence of the Holy Spirit—these are always blessings. But in prayer for <em>temporal </em>things, it is safer and wiser to ask humbly and with diffidence, laying our desires at God's feet, without anxious pressure, without too much urgency, trustfully submitting all to his unerring wisdom.<br><br>
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<strong>The true goal of Christian living</strong>, is not to grow rich, or to be clothed in earthly honor, or to have mere worldly happiness, or to be free from suffering and loss—but rather to grow rich in spiritual graces, to be made more and more like Christ, and to live out God's purpose and plan for our life.<br><br>
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<strong>When </strong>shall we pray? When the <em>spirit of prayer </em>is in the heart, there is little need to say just how or when prayer should be offered. Still, there must be <em>habits of prayer</em>. Merely to trust to the feeling or desire, and to have no fixed time for devotion, praying only when the heart prompts—is not safe. The end would be a prayerless life. The lamps in the temple burned continually—but they were trimmed and refilled every day. Just so, the flame of devotion in a Christian heart, should never go out—this lamp too must be replenished continually.<br><br>
Certainly, there should be a season of secret prayer at the <em>opening</em>, and again at the <em>close</em>, of every day. "In the morning it seems a hem and border to each day's life, and in the evening it brings down the dew on the Spirit, to wash off the stain and dust, and to feed and refresh." In the <em>morning </em>the day lies before us with its unforeseen and untried experiences. It may bring painful duty, sore struggle, hard task, keen suffering, sharp temptation, or perhaps death! How can we go out into the opening day which may have such experiences for us, without seeking the guidance and help of God? In the <em>evening </em>we bring the day's history for review. There are sins to be confessed; there is work to be blessed; there are thanks to be spoken for mercies; there is weariness to be refreshed; there is hunger to be fed. Then, as we go into the darkness and defenselessness of the night, there is protection to be invoked, and new life for a new day.<br><br>
We need to watch always that our prayers are real, <em>fresh from our heart—</em>and that they never degenerate into mere formalities, words without desires, petitions without wishes and without faith. True prayer is talking to God—as one talks to a friend<em>. Mere words—are empty mockeries of God. </em>We pray best in secret—when we tell out to God, all our soul's deepest needs in the simplest phrases. As we grow in Christian life, prayer becomes more and more real to us.<br><br>
Phelps says, "Three stages of growth are commonly discernible respecting prayer in the Christian consciousness. They are:<br><br>
1. prayer as a resource in emergencies, <br>
  2. prayer as a habit at appointed times, <br>
  3. prayer as a state in which a believer lives at all times."<br><br>
In this last and highest development, stated times of prayer are not abandoned—but the heart does not limit itself to these, in communing with God. The <em>spirit of devotion </em>overflows the<em>fixed hours </em>of prayer, and holds fellowship with God continuously. Even the busiest hours of work, are brightened by many a moment of heavenly communion. This is what is meant by<em>walking with God</em>. Men talk to him while at their work, in a spirit of prayer.<br><br>
Thomas á Kempis says, "God alone is a thousand companions; he alone is a world of friends. That man never knew what it was to be familiar with God, who complains of the lack of friends while God is with him." It is this state of constant and unbroken communion with God, toward which we should all strive.<br><br>
Let the life of the <em>closet</em>, flow out into all the busy hours of the busiest days. It will be defense for us amid temptations. It will give us power in Christian service. It will <em>hallow </em>all our influence. It will make holy and pure—every <em>nook </em>and <em>cranny </em>of our life! It will give us peace in the midst of dangers. It will hold us apart from the world—and near to God, wherever we go. Like the beloved disciple, our habitual place will then be on the bosom of Jesus, and our heart will become filled with the brightness and the sweetness of his love!<br><br>
Thus prayer is indeed—the Christian's very vital breath. To cease to pray is to cease to live. The <em>gate of prayer </em>is never shut! We should keep the path to it, well trodden. We can there find <em>help </em>in all weakness, <em>light </em>in all darkness, <em>comfort </em>in all sorrow, <em>companionship </em>in all loneliness, <em>friendship </em>in all heart hunger. If we know how to get help in prayer, we need never fail at any point in life; for then<em> all God's might of love</em>, is ever back of our weakness, as the great ocean is back of the little bay.
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