Hip Pocket Prayer

 

Hip Pocket Prayer

Hip Pocket Prayer - Audio/Visual 

Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need and thank him for all he’s done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. (Phil. 4:6-7)

I'm a recovering prayer wimp. I doze off when I pray. My thoughts zig, then zag, then zig-zag back again. Distractions swarm like moths drawn to a summer flame. If attention deficit disorder applies to prayer, then I’m afflicted. When I pray, I think of a thousand things I need to do, and I forget the one thing I actually wanted to do: pray. Some excel in prayer – they inhale heaven and exhale God. They’re the Seal Team Six of intercession; they’d rather pray than sleep. Me? Prayer is a sleep-inducement aid.

It's not that we don't pray at all. We all pray some. On tear-stained pillows we pray. In grand liturgies we pray. At the sight of geese in flight, or a sunrise or an eclipse? We pray. In fact, this week alone, more of us will pray than will exercise or go to work. Surveys indicate that even one in five unbelievers pray daily. Why? Just in case? We pray to stay sober, centered or solvent. We pray when the lump is deemed malignant; when the money runs out before the month does; when the unborn baby hasn't kicked in a while. We all pray . . . some. But wouldn't we all like to pray more? Deeper? Stronger? With more fire, faith or fervency? Probably.

But we have kids to feed, bills to pay and deadlines to meet. The calendar pounces on our good intentions like a starving coyote on a skittering Ramona cottontail. We want to pray, but when? We want to pray, but why? We might as well admit it. Prayer is just a little odd; it’s … well … it’s weird.

Speaking into space. Lifting words into the sky. We can't even get the cable company to answer us, but God will? The doctor is too busy, but God isn't? We have our doubts about prayer. And we have our checkered history with the whole experience: unmet expectations and unanswered requests. We can barely genuflect because of the scar tissue on our knees. God, to some, is the ultimate heartbreaker. Why keep tossing the coins of our longings into a silent fountain? He jilted me once, but not again.

The good news is that we aren't the first to struggle with this subject. The sign-up sheet for Prayer 101 contains some pretty familiar names like the apostles John, James, Andrew and Peter. When one of Jesus' disciples requested, "Lord, teach us to pray" (Luke 11:1), none of the others apparently objected. No one walked away saying, "Naw, I’ve got that prayer thing figured out." It’s because the first followers of Jesus needed some prayer guidance, too.

In fact, the only tutorial they ever requested was on prayer. They could have asked for instructions on a lot of topics like bread multiplying, speech making or storm stilling. Jesus raised people from the dead so why not a "How to Empty the Cemetery" seminar? His followers never asked for one of those. But they did want him to do this: "Lord, teach us to pray." Could their interest have had anything to do with the jaw-dropping, eye-popping promises Jesus attached to prayer? "Ask and it will be given to you." (Matt. 7:7) "If you believe, you will get anything you ask for in prayer." (Matt. 21:22)

Jesus never attached that kind of power to other endeavors. "Plan and it will be given to you." Or "You will get anything you work for." Those words aren’t in the Bible. But these are – “If you remain in me and follow my teachings, you can ask anything you want, and it will be given to you." (John 15:7) Jesus gave some pretty stunning prayer promises.

And he set a compelling prayer example. Jesus prayed before he ate. He prayed for children. He prayed for the sick. He prayed with thanks. He prayed with tears. He made the planets and shaped the stars, yet he prayed. He’s the Lord of angels and the Commander of heavenly hosts, yet he prayed. He’s the exact representation of the Holy One, but he devoted himself to prayer. He prayed in the desert, in the cemetery and in the garden. "He went out and departed to a solitary place; and there he prayed." (Mark 1:35) In fact, it may have been a pretty common conversation among his friends when they said, "Hey, has anyone seen Jesus?" "Yeah. He's doing that again." "Doing what? Praying?” "Yep, he’s been gone since sunrise." In fact, Jesus would even disappear for an entire night of prayer. Remember that?

He'd just experienced one of the most stressful days of his ministry. The day began with the news of the murder of his cousin, John the Baptist. Jesus sought to get away with his disciples, but a crowd of thousands followed him. Though grief-stricken, he spent the entire day teaching and healing people. And when they discovered that the people had no food to eat, Jesus multiplied bread out of a basket and fed the entire multitude. So, in the span of just a few hours, Jesus battled sorrow, stress, demands and needs. He deserved a good night's rest. Yet when evening finally came, he told the crowd to leave and the disciples to board their boat so that he could go “up into the hills by himself to pray." (Mark 6:46)

Apparently, it was the right choice. A storm exploded over the Sea of Galilee that night, leaving the disciples "in trouble far away from land, for a strong wind had risen, and they were fighting heavy waves. About three o'clock in the morning Jesus came toward them, walking on the water." (Matt. 14:24-25) Jesus ascended the mountain depleted, and he reappeared at 3:00 a.m. invigorated because when he reached the water, he never broke stride. I can barely keep my eyes open at 3:00 a.m. You'd have thought the water was a park lawn and the storm a spring breeze. Is that when the disciples made the prayer-power connection? "Lord, teach us to pray like that. Teach us to find strength in prayer; banish fear in prayer; defy storms in prayer; come off a mountain of prayer with the authority of a king."

Then, the disciples faced angry waves and a watery grave. Now, you face angry clients, a turbulent electorate, and raging seas of stress and sorrow. "Lord," we still ask, "teach us to pray." And when the disciples asked Jesus to teach them to pray, he gave them a prayer. Not a lecture on prayer. Not the doctrine of prayer. He gave them a quotable, repeatable, portable prayer. (Luke 11:1-4)

It seems to me that the prayers of the Bible can be distilled into one. The result is a simple, easy-to-remember (at least for me), hip pocket-sized prayer: “Father, you are good. I need help. Please help me and forgive me. They need help; please help them, too. Thank you, God. In Jesus' name. Amen.” When applied, for instance, as you begin your morning, it’s like, “Father, you are good.” And as you commute to work, or walk the hallways at school, it’s “I need help.” And as you wait in the grocery line, you note that “They need help; help them, too.” A prayer in your hip pocket as you pass the day.

Prayer, for most of us, is not a matter of a month-long retreat, or even an hour of meditation. Prayer is a conversation with God while driving to work or waiting for an appointment or before interacting with a client. It doesn’t have to be lengthy. It could be like Peter’s prayer, “Lord, save me,” when he found himself sinking after water-walking at Jesus’ invitation to “come.” (Matt. 14:30) Nehemiah’s prayer couldn’t have lasted more than a nanosecond when the King, seeing Nehemiah’s despondency, asked him what he could do to help his cupbearer in distress. (Neh. 2:4)

This much is sure, however: God will teach you to pray. Don't think for a minute that he’s glaring at you from a distance with arms crossed and a scowl, waiting for you to get your prayer life together. It’s just the opposite. "Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in and eat with you, and you will eat with me." (Rev. 3:20) Jesus is waiting on the porch. He’s standing at your threshold. He’s tapping on your door. He’s whispering your name. He’s waiting for you to pick up the phone.

Prayer is answering that ringtone. It’s opening that door. Prayer is the hand of faith on the door handle of your heart. That willing pull. That happy welcome to Jesus: "The kitchen’s a little messy, Lord, but come on in." Or "I didn't clean up much, but here I am, Jesus." Even, "I'm not much of a conversationalist, but let’s talk."

I may be a prayer wimp, but I’m a recovering prayer wimp. Not where I want to be, but not where I was. My time in prayer has become my time of power. My simple prayer has become a cherished friend. Its phrases linger in my thoughts like a favorite song. Father, you are good. I need help. Please help me and forgive me. They need help; please help them, too. Thank you. In Jesus' name. Amen.

When we invite God into our world, he walks in and he brings a host of gifts with him, too. Gifts like joy, patience, resilience. Anxieties come, but they don't stay. Fears surface and then depart. Regrets land on the windshield, but then comes the wiper of prayer. The devil still hands me rocks of guilt, but I turn and give them to Jesus. Struggles come, for sure, but so does God. We speak. He listens. He speaks. We listen. That’s prayer in its purest form. God changes his people through moments like these.

Prayer is not a privilege for the pious, or an art form of the chosen few. Prayer is simply a heartfelt conversation between God and his child. He wants to talk with you. Even now, as you read these words, he’s knocking on your door. So, why don’t you open it? Welcome him in. Let the conversation begin. You’ll never know where the conversation will lead, but he does because he knows the way. Or as former Prime Minister Ben Chifley told the House of Commons in 1947 during a tax debate, the hip pocket nerve is the most sensitive nerve in the entire body. If true, then maybe that’s the perfect place for a hip pocket prayer.

Grace,

Randy