Rev Dr Sally Douglas invites us to think anew about why we pray.
Prayer is not like ascending on a heavenly escalator. We do not move from one great enlightenment moment to another.
Instead, we muddle through, understanding and failing to understand, experiencing consolation and falling into despair, feeling empty, tasting joy, doubting, believing and doubting, over and over again.
This is part of the life of following Jesus. What is curious, is that while these realities diverge from church rhetoric and the expectations we might foist upon ourselves, or one another, this is just how the first disciples are depicted across the Gospels.
Across denominations in the church we regularly fail to resource people in their spiritual journeys. Within the context of prayer this falling short takes diverse forms. In many congregations, both high and low, charismatic and mainstream, prayers appear to be recited or performed rather than prayed.
In some churches the possibility of openness to the Most High is suffocated by language that pretends that God is a man. Indeed, this habit has become a form of idolatry in many places.
As a consequence of this false devotion, vast swathes of the population cannot imagine that there is anything good in the news of Jesus, and women continue to be excluded and misused. Words matter.
In some churches, the desire to be accessible leads to worship being flattened out so much that the presence of the Divine is barely acknowledged. In such settings the scandalous distinctiveness of Christian faith dissolves into generic prayers that could, without too much difficulty, be readily used as gratitude prompts in a wellness retreat.
In many worship services, across denominations, prayers of intercession appear to be driven by the assumption that the Source of all is not informed about the tragedies that have unfolded during the week and it is the responsibility of the Christian to list these for the Divine in a shopping list of doom. In most worship contexts, silence appears to be squeezed to the edges. Is it any wonder that prayer begins to feel empty?
It is true that there are worship leaders, both lay and ordained, who continue to deepen their relationship with the Divine as they explore, wrestle, and grow in their own prayer lives. It is also true that there are dynamic faith communities, large and small, seeking to pray together week by week with honesty, seriousness and openness to the Most High. Thanks be to God.
However, too often this is the exception to the rule. When people leave the church, saying that they are “spiritual not religious” I have empathy with them. If we are unable to create space for the real, for wild, wrestling, transforming abiding with the Living One, it is only natural that people will walk away. Some will leave to seek soul nourishment in other contexts that promise a different expression of spirituality. Others will come to the conclusion that such sustenance does not exist and shut down this part of themselves. We have much to confess and to turn away from across our churches.
Moderator Rev Salesi Faupula speaks at the launch of Sally’s book in December.
The reasons why prayer has been made pietistic, boring and empty in so many churches are complex. Habits shape expectations for how we should be. The unspoken view that “this is how we do worship” can smother the opportunity to raise concerns or dare to dream about how things could be done differently. Fashions can overtake (think PowerPoint or organs). Hierarchies can make it impossible to ask questions.
For at least some within the worldwide household of Christian faith, I suspect there is a deep fear that there may be no God, or at least not a God who listens and acts. This problematises prayer considerably.
Alongside these issues, I think there is another factor that contributes enormously to our current (non)practices of praying. It is commonly assumed by Christians that people know how to pray because prayer is understood to be natural. Children and young people might be taught a smattering of simple prayers. However, in many church contexts once people are adults the practice of prayer does not appear to be discussed. Instead, it is taken for granted that people have a shared understanding, not only of how to pray, but also of what prayer might be for, and what it might achieve.
As a consequence, opportunities to explore these crucial and complex questions are often few and far between. Instead, we say prayers in church and encourage people to pray for others at home, leaving them to get on with this alone, even when their inner life feels like a heap of dry bones.
While prayer may be natural, this does not make it easy. Walking is also natural for most people. This does not mean that it is simple to learn to walk. When toddlers learn this skill, they need time and an array of supports. As a toddler grows in their confidence to walk independently, they lose the need for these first supports. This does not mean that they are walking less faithfully. Instead, they are walking differently because they have grown. So it is with the process of learning to pray.
The things that support us to pray as a child, young person, or a person new to faith are invaluable. Like littles ones learning to walk, as we learn to pray we will likely need clear and accessible resources and kind people to support us, encourage us and pick us up when we fall.
However, as we grow and develop, many of the first prayer styles we were introduced to may no longer offer nourishment. This is not because of a lack of faith on our part, or a consequence of growing away from the Divine. Rather this is because we are growing in maturity, even though it may not feel like it at the time. Prayer styles that once gave our lives meaning may become empty because we are in a new stage of our life and faith journey, and we need different resources for the road before us.
When we travel through various experiences, we are called into different ways of being with the Divine that make sense in this new context. This is particularly the case when we are confronted with unexpected tragedy. In deep suffering, our crisp edges and naïve certainties are hacked away, and any rose-coloured ideas of God and happy-ever-after constructions of faith are obliterated.
In this desolate land, which may also be a gateway to liberation, we will need new words and ways of embodying prayer if we are to maintain our integrity and be open to the Divine. Thankfully we do not have to invent these ways of being on our own. Across the tradition there are resources and stories and wisdom from the diverse communion of saints to draw from and engage with.
Instead of churches holding people back by continuing to offer simplistic patterns of prayer that help us to take our first steps, imagine if we engaged seriously together with these treasures. We may learn how to tell the truth and listen for the truth. We may learn how to walk. We may also learn how to run fast and even soar, and create space for others to do so as well.
