The Relationship of Prayer

I spoke this last Sabbath on the importance of prayer -- on how those who accomplished much in the service of God usually spent much time in prayer with God. Other than give some of these examples, I didn't speak on why prayer is important or why there is power through it. In fact, I didn't have any good responses if someone had asked me.

The same Sabbath afternoon, I was reading through Lenswork No. 70 when I came across two items -- an editorial and a portfolio by the editor -- that provided me with some ideas about prayer.

The article was about a fictional e-mail exchange between the author and an alien being from outer space. The premise was that this being did not understand music -- to him it was just plain noise. How does a human explain music to a being that cannot understand and appreciate it? What is music? Does music serve a practical purpose?

The article goes on to have the human explain that music is not necessary to life, but that when present, it adds a transcendental element to life. It can be a basis for shared experiences between groups of people that otherwise might not be able to communicate nor understand one another. A slow, minor key melody; a soft, lyrical passage; a building, rhythmic, crescendo symphony -- they communicate universal experiences. They bypass the limits of human language and communicate at the heart level.

The portfolio, titled Wakarimasen ("I don't understand" for those whose communication facilities lack Japanese) was a set of abstract images. The introduction to the portfolio asked something to the effect of: When we see something, read something, hear something, how do we know we understand? What if language fails us? What if we don't know what the symbols mean (after all, written language is just a set of visual symbols, and auditory language is just a set of audible symbols). What if the world is trying to tell us something, but we don't recognize nor understand the symbols?

Putting the article and the portfolio together, I began contemplating on how they might explain the dilemma I was having with prayer. I believe that God is trying to communicate with us. He has left us with quite a few artifacts that tell about him. But they are all symbols, and not the reality. Symbols can go unrecognized and they can be misunderstood. I believe history shows plenty of examples of both. Even Jesus, who was the perfect revelation of God, is not present physically in this world today. What we have left are records in the Bible, and again, they are words -- symbols -- with all their inherent limitations and possibilities for error.

I think that's where prayer comes in. Through prayer, we are somehow able to transcend the inherent limitations of our own experience, knowledge, understanding, and language. When we pray, we are no longer speaking English, or Japanese, or French, or Swahili, or whatever. I think that Romans 8:26-27 allude to this transcendent communication that takes place during prayer. Through prayer we are able to get a glimpse into the reality of God, and we are able to, if briefly, communicate in God's native language. The communication is no longer mouth to ear, but heart to heart.

Through prayer God is able to bypass the filters of written and audible language, of physical symbols, and give us a glimpse into his heart. And as we increase our time looking into God's heart, our own hearts are changed -- our hearts grow closer go God. As our hearts come closer to God and begin to resemble his, we understand his purposes for us in this world.

The more our will and our actions come into alignment with God's, the more he is able to work through us. I think it is instructive and illuminating that the rest of Romans 8 (vv. 28-39) talks about how nothing can stand in the way of those who truly seek to follow God's will, and nothing can separate such people from God.

(BTW, I've mentioned this to a number of people in the past, but I don't think I've written about it here:  I find Lenswork to be a frequent source for spiritual insights.)