Prayer Secrets

 

Prayer Secrets

Lenten Sermon Series – Practices for Better Living, 2          

A sermon deliveredelectronically by Rev. Dr. Randy K. Hammer, Feb. 21, 2021

Matthew 6:5-8; Mary Oliver's poem, "Praying"

In a certain church several years ago, it was customary for the pastor, at the close of some services, especially Sunday evening services, to randomly call upon someone in the congregation to offer the closing prayer.  All were asked to stand to their feet for the closing prayer, and most gripped the back of the pew in front of them with sweaty palms, hoping and silently praying that the pastor wouldn’t call upon them to offer the prayer.  For most congregants, it would have been an embarrassing situation to be called upon cold to lead a prayer for the entire congregation.

But there was one member who was known for his life of faith—who was very intent upon raising his children in a Christian household, was known to read the Bible religiously, and who spoke of his faith often in everyday life—who didn’t seem to mind to be asked to pray publicly.  Let’s call him Wally.  Well, having Wally to offer the closing prayer was about as bad or worse than being called upon to offer the closing prayer yourself.  For, you see, when the preacher said, “Wally, would you offer our closing prayer?” you knew that you were going to be standing a good 10-15 minutes while Wally prayed on and on.  Because Wally didn’t know how to pray a short prayer.  When Wally offered the closing prayer, it was as though he was offering a weekly prayer of all his personal thoughts and concerns before the entire congregation.  Now, I loved Wally dearly.  He was a good man, a good neighbor, a devoted church member, one who was serious about his life of faith.  But when we were standing for 10-15 minutes at the end of a service and wanting to go home, we secretly wished that Wally had remembered what Jesus had to say about prayer—about public prayers and private prayers—and avoiding “many words.”

Prayer, as Jesus describes it in the Sermon on the Mount, should not be concerned with long, babbling words.  True prayer is first and foremost a matter of the heart.   You may remember that in another place Jesus told the Parable of the religious leader and the publican, or tax collector (Luke 18:9-14). The religious leader was more concerned with the words that he uttered—words in which he sought to defend his own righteousness—whereas the publican dropped his head in humility and from the heart said, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”  Prayer is not about the number of words that are spoken or the elaborative nature of the words.  It is more a matter of the heart.

Prayer as such might be looked upon as a conversation, but a private conversation.  Real prayer between one and God might be compared to a heart-to-heart conversation with a close friend over coffee; a conversation with a friend with whom you can honestly pour your heart out.  I love that story about the time that Dan Rather was interviewing Mother Teresa.  Rather asked Mother Teresa about what she said when she prayed to God.  And Mother Teresa replied, “Nothing; I listen.”  Rather then asked, “Then what does God say to you?”  Again, Mother Teresa replied, “Nothing; he listens.”

We heard earlier what poet Mary Oliver had to say about prayer in this regard in her poem titled “Praying”:

patch

 

a few words together and don’t try

to make them elaborate, this isn’t

a contest but the doorway

 

into thanks, and a silence in which

another voice may speak.

There is a delightful story involving President Lyndon Johnson who, when aboard Air Force One asked his press secretary, Bill Moyers (who was a young Baptist minister) to offer a prayer.  So, the young Moyers bowed his head and began speaking softly.  President Johnson, in his booming Texas accent, said, “Speak up, Bill, we can’t hear you!”  To which Moyers replied, “Mr. President, I wasn’t speaking to you.”  I love that story!  Prayer is not about impressing others, no matter how important they might be; it is more about a sharing of the true feelings of the heart.

Another thing about prayer, if it is genuine, is that it changes the pray-er, the one who prays.  As liberal theologian Jack Mendelsohn wrote, “Prayer is an effort to reach deep and to reach out and to become what we would like to be, and need to be, and ought to be. . . It is an expression of the desire to grow in spiritual stature, in courage, in strength, and in faith” (Being Liberal in an Illiberal Age, 166).  In other words, prayer is something that I should do in order to change me; an experience in which to gain greater courage, faith, hope, guidance, and strength to do what I need to do in order to help change the world.

Prayer as such has been compared by many to polishing.  Rough stones can be put in a stone polisher, which eventually turns them into beautiful natural objects that demand admiration by all who see them.  Such is what prayer can do for the one who prays.

The times in which we have been living have taxed the souls of all of us.  Because of all that has gone on in our wider world, nation, and personal lives these past months, most of us have felt harassed and helpless, fearful and uncertain, and to a greater or lesser degree isolated and lonely.  Prayer, or spiritual meditation or sacred reflection or whatever you want to call it or however you want to frame it, has the potential of providing emotional and spiritual support and comfort.  We might even say that secret prayer, as we have talked about it, is itself a secret to better living. Amen.