When my children were really young, my wife and I became used to eating our meals at a very fast rate. Looking after four active, young children, we had to! But when we were able to arrange a childless dinner night for the two of us we found an interesting development transpired. We discovered that we were able to travel, sit down, order, eat, chat and be ready to go home again in all of about an hour. No, we did not dislike each other’s company and no, the restaurant food and environment were not bad, and no, we were not the type of parents who were so concerned and overly possessive of our children that we needed to go back home quickly. Rather, we had become so used to eating our meals at such a fast pace that when given the space and opportunity to eat at a slow and uninterrupted speed we failed to slow down. We then missed the enjoyment of a more contemplative and delectable time of eating and enjoying each other’s company.

Taking this situation and applying it to our prayer lives, we can sometimes see a correlation with allowing our fast-paced lives to pattern our engagement in this way with God. We sit down with God, maybe quickly read a passage of Scripture and present a speedy prayer, and then we are off again. Failing to ensure space to ponder over God’s word in prayer, to revel in his company and to delight in our relationship with him means we short-change our spiritual lives. We need to see our prayer life in relationship to God more like a slow cooker or crockpot, where the flavours of God’s Holy Spirit seep into our souls, rather than an instantaneous, frozen, microwave meal. As the apostle Paul demonstrates, the Christian faith is more like a marathon than a sprint (1 Corinthians 9:24–26; also Hebrews 12:1). The Bible calls this slow encounter of solitude and connection ‘meditation’ (Psalm 48:9; Psalm 199:15, 23, 27, 48). Meditation, in a Christian and scriptural sense, is the time when we reflect on God’s word and engage in relational connection with God through prayer. This image of meditation is particularly captured in the first few verses of Psalm 1, where we see meditation on God’s word giving sustenance, root structure, and growth to the person of faith.

However, some of us see prayer as a wish list, with God as a genie in a bottle who we come to when we want something we cannot get ourselves: “God, can I have a new car?”, “God, can you make my friend better?”, or, “God, can you stop Frank or Miriam hurting me?” Now don’t get me wrong; God loves us to ask him for things. I’m one who asks God for a lot of things (Matt 7:7–11), including car spaces. But when prayer is treated as just a shopping list of things we desire to acquire, it limits our relationship with God.

Prayer with God is understanding that we are in a relationship with the safest, most caring, most grace-full and powerful person in the whole universe, who wants us to connect with him. Prayer is not complicated per se. It is simple in many respects because it is about conversation with God and a developing awareness of his presence with us (1 Thessalonians 5:17). However, my encounters of prayer with God have been challenged at times as I try to place qualifying statements on God, especially those times when God seems absent and is playing p-][=df\a type of ‘hide and seek’. I bang on the door of heaven and God does not seem to be listening. Psalm 28 expresses something of this silence of God. This psalm seems to be a finale to the previous three psalms that are presented—a climax.

1 To you, LORD, I call;
you are my Rock,
do not turn a deaf ear to me.
For if you remain silent,
I will be like those who go down to the pit.
2 Hear my cry for mercy
as I call to you for help,
as I lift up my hands
toward your Most Holy Place.
3 Do not drag me away with the wicked,
with those who do evil,
who speak cordially with their neighbors
but harbor malice in their hearts.
4 Repay them for their deeds
and for their evil work;
repay them for what their hands have done
and bring back on them what they deserve.
5 Because they have no regard for the deeds of the LORD
and what his hands have done,
he will tear them down
and never build them up again.
6 Praise be to the LORD,
for he has heard my cry for mercy.
7 The LORD is my strength and my shield;
my heart trusts in him, and he helps me.
My heart leaps for joy,
and with my song I praise him.
8 The LORD is the strength of his people,
a fortress of salvation for his anointed one.
9 Save your people and bless your inheritance;
be their shepherd and carry them forever.

We see in this psalm at verse 6 an exuberant and joyful shift in emotion from the earlier struggles of verses 1-5. Some say that a pronouncement from a Priest or temple worker was given, and so this meant the prayer was granted, which explains the shift in emotion. Other writers claim that this sharp emotional shift could be the psalmist’s bold and strong type of faith in God. The speaker has now made a clear claim on the desired response to their prayers. Or, just maybe, this person’s prayer struggle is now over and they are resigned to totally relying on God such that, whatever the answer, they accept it as God’s will for their life.

In my life, I resonate with this third outcome. Many a time I have been earnestly praying for God to remove a “thorn in the flesh” type experience or situation, and I end up resigning to the fact, as Paul deduced in 2 Corinthians 12:7–10, that this is about dependency upon God and not about my narrow view of what should be the best outcome. These scenarios indicate to me that prayer is more profound and mysterious than I could ever fathom. In one respect, God will answer prayers, albeit in his time and way; and on the other hand, prayer changes and transforms my limited understanding of who God is and how he operates. Sure, I would love to see the person healed whom I was praying for, or the extra income to pay for my child’s gift that I asked for, but in this process of prayer, I am transformed as I realise who this great God really is.
Prayer can be a labyrinth of expression, perseverance and connection that seems to have no end. Yet I am drawn closer in intimate relationship with God as I cry out in desperation for that relational connection with him.

In essence, prayer is communion with God (Matthew 18:19–20). It could be seen as a type of conversation with a best friend (John 14:13–14) and yet it is scented with a formality of respect as for a father (Mathew 6:9–10).

Charles Spurgeon said:
“Prayer pulls the rope below and the great bell rings above in the ears of God. Some scarcely stir the bell, for they pray so languidly. Others give but an occasional pluck at the rope. But he who wins with heaven is the man who grasps the rope boldly and pulls continuously, with all his might.”

Prayer presents to me a boldness and courage to ensure that I keep pulling on that cord and ringing that bell despite the response I think I might receive. God knows how to give good gifts, and so I trust that you too will pray more fervently and engage more deeply as you enter into that place where heaven touches earth in your prayer life (Matthew 6:10).

Keith Mitchell is a lecturer in Pastoral and Practical Studies at Morling College with over 20 years pastoral experience.

Top image: http://bit.ly/10LXzze (used under creative commons license)