What is the Purpose of Prayer?

It’s one of the most unpopular Christian disciplines, but not from lack of faith or desire. There are barriers here – deeply seated emotional and spiritual things that keep us from understanding the purpose of something that’s fundamental to a happy life.

I’ve been a Bible-believing Christian for 30 years – a professional one in some cases – and have never been a fan of prayer. That’s problematic if you know anything about my culture; everyone expects leaders and pastors to shepherd their flock in a number of activities, prayer being at the top of the list.

I don’t like being quiet, or still, or sitting in a bland, multi-purpose room at 6:00AM with a bunch of other guys taking our turn to talk to God about the things we want, carefully curating our requests to avoid the appearance of overt terrestriality. I’d much rather hang out, drink beer, laugh, joke around, etc.

Those things are holy too.

On top of that, I can’t tell you how many of my prayers have gone unanswered. It’s always felt like a waste of time, unless things aren’t going well, or I’m frightened about something, then prayer suddenly makes sense and I pray like the Bible tells me to. When the crisis fades, as it always does, I’m back to my old faithless ways.

In my defense, it’s a difficult thing to get your head around. What’s the purpose of prayer if God already knows what I want? Why ask? I hate to admit that this makes me a little angry. My head is constantly buzzing with the things I want out of this life, and the God who sees and knows all expects me to ask for them, and probably won’t deliver. For example, I’ve been blogging for 5 years now, hoping that I might bag at least one viral post, or gain enough followers to launch my drivel into the world of legitimacy. I refuse to pray for this because it sounds so unspiritual, but He knows I want it. Why not skip the whole prayer thing and just give it to me?

I’m fully aware that God’s not a gumball machine. I’m merely frustrated that my epic desires seem to go so unnoticed. It feels like a game to me.

On top of that, what’s the purpose of prayer if God’s going to do what He wants to anyway? Sure, there are a couple of stories in the Bible where someone’s prayer seems to put a dent in the almighty’s trajectory, but those are exceptions. God doesn’t get out of bed in the morning without a plan – everything is “foreordained,” so why kneel at the foot of my bed and suggest anything different?

Rot, Interrupted

St. Paul had some interesting thoughts about the purpose of prayer, one in particular that’s always stood out to me:

“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” ~ Phillipians 4:6-7

What is it that our hearts and minds need to be guarded from? And what does prayer have aything to do with it?

To understand this better, I’ve always leaned heavy on the following analogy, but hang with me as it’s a bit unspiritual.

If I put a piece of chicken on the counter and leave it there for a few days it will rot, not because chicken goes bad by itself, but because there are tiny things floating around in the air that will will take up residence, eat, then do what all organisms do afterwards. That’s what’s rotten about a rotten piece of chicken. If you could remove all of these “deposits,” your chicken would be restored. But after enough time, the whole thing is infested, a microbial city of sorts, embedded with all of the scat that attends it.

If I instead wrap the chicken in plastic, suck out all the air, and throw it in the fridge, it’s “guarded” from the trillions of homeless microbes floating about in my kitchen. Few organisms can survive a low oxygen enviroment is near sub-zero temperatures.

Paul’s understanding of us was much more chicken-on-a-counter forward than our’s tends to be. We don’t frequently consider the idea that the thoughts and activities floating around us have one goal: land, eat, shit, repeat. We also don’t consider, as Paul did, that we’re surrounded, always: mere sin avoidance doesn’t do the trick. Prayer, so long as it’s accompanied by thankfulness, is analagous to putting our heart/mind combo in a place where the bad stuff can’t get to it, “guarded” from the things that we’re sure to fall victim to otherwise.

In Paul’s thinking, the final result, and the overall purpose of prayer is peace; the kind God has, one that no human could hope to understand or come up with on his own. It’s within this peace that we find ourselves suddenly surrounded by the beauty of our world, our relationships, and our life. The endgame here is the annihilation of anything that might throttle this peace, keeping it from roaming around in our heads like a million microbes looking for a place to land and take up residence. We don’t need new things, or a different situation, or better relationships, etc; we need peace – the kind that thrives in any situation.

Peace was a big deal in Paul’s thinking, much more so than things like “forgiveness,” “unity,” “mercy,” etc. –  the things you might think would have more emphasis. For sure he believed that the greatest thing in the world is love, but Paul never commanded his followers to let love be the predominate rule by which we might live:

“And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful.” Collossians 3:15

Notice again that he’s not talking about “the peace of people.” He’s referring to something that resides within and flows directly out of the person of God Himself; something much more likely to stick around when things get tough. Either way, this is where we begin. Without peace there is no love, no understanding, no unity, no mission, and certainly no happiness.

To use Paul’s words, without peace we are unguarded, and without prayer there is no peace.

I’m happy to call out my own frailties here. I try to show up, especially in blog form as a person whose life is characterized by some modigum of peace. But the last 4 years have put a very large burr in my saddle. I can’t recall a time when I’ve been so frustrated with my Christian brothers and sisters. Sure, there’s a Biblical precedence for this kind of thing; Jesus made a whip and cleared out the temple, He called a certain politician a “rat.” John the Baptist called the religious leaders of his day “a den of snakes.” The kind of vitriole I’ve dumped upon you over the past 4 years can be found all over the place in the Bible.

That doesn’t mean that my unpeaceful moments have been driven by the spirit of God, as they were in the above episodes. Maybe I’m just being a jackass. I’ll leave it to you to decide. Suffice it to say that it’s possible to critique, even condemn, and still be ruled by the peace that Paul has called us to. At the same time I think that anyone who seeks to critique and condemn should move forward with bracing humility. That’s where I’ve struggled the most.

If you ever find me overthrown by judgments, pointing my finger at everyone else while utterly failing to see the log in my own eye, you can bet that I’ve abandoned the discipline of taking my requests before God and accepting the world that I live in with a spirit of thankfulness.

The most peaceless moments of my life have always been and will most likely always be the most prayer-less.

image by Jude Beck at unsplash.com