Today I was real with God for the first time in a while. There was no big, hidden sin issue that I was hiding from Him; no 800 pound gorilla that I had to talk to Him about; I just simply had a conversation with Him, and I can’t remember doing that at any time in recent memory.
Oh, I’ve prayed. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve prayed quite a bit. I’ll always probably say that I’ve not prayed as much as I should, but I have actually prayed quite a bit lately. So I can say honestly that I’ve prayed a good bit lately. But there’s a reason I would call it praying and not talking with God, and the reason is that when I talk to people, I don’t sound like I do when I’m praying. When I talk to people, I connect. I react. I consider. I measure my words, and I say things that I want them to know about me. But I don’t pray to people. In fact, I think that if I did, it would seem like the most impersonal, one-sided method of relating. When I pray, I just… talk (for lack of a better word) without paysing, mostly focusing on myself, my needs, or somehow indirectly on me. I don’t think that the way that I would pray would invite much of a response, were I to pray to some friend of mine.
So, going on with this same terminology, when I pray I don’t connect usually. I don’t listen. I don’t get deep. I’m not really emotional about much of anything; most of all, I am overly formal, and I sue words that I would never use while talking with my Father, friend, or a companion – all roles that Jesus ascribes to himself in the Bible.
But when I talk to people – especially my friends, my companion ( my girlfriend), or my father – I do connect. I am emotional. I am honest. I don’t play around; I try to choose my words carefully and say things that I really mean. I’m real and I’m significant – sometimes too significant – with the things that I talk about. And I usually talk about things for a long time – usually long enough that my friends loose interest.
Isn’t that a weird contrast? I mean, Jesus engaged his father in prayer before he was killed, and I think it was probably the most real, deepest, most significant conversation he had with anyone or anything during his time on earth. He wept. He sweated so intensely that drops of blood fell from his forehead. And who did he pray for? He prayed for himself, first and foremost.
"Father, the time has come. Glorify your Son, that your Son may glorify you. 2For you granted him authority over all people that he might give eternal life to all those you have given him. 3Now this is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent. 4I have brought you glory on earth by completing the work you gave me to do. 5And now, Father, glorify me in your presence with the glory I had with you before the world began.
He asked the Father – in a fashion that was more a directive than a request – to give him his due glory, the glory he had before the beginning of the universe. Then he recounts how he’s done all that the father asked. He has done all that was asked of him, and now all that is left is for him to be glorified as he was before. He knows that the father doesn’t need a reminder on this one; this is part of the biggest plan in the history of plans. The Father himself had made the plan; there was no doubt that the Father knew the next step. But Jesus still didn’t forego the opportunity to speak to his father from the heart about the most important moment in his earthly life. In going to the Father, he didn’t gloss over a list of prayer requests; he spoke to his dad honestly about what was tearing him up inside.
Then he wasn’t finished. He told the father about the twelve men that he had become closer to than anything else. I think this is something we forget all the time about God and how he redeemed us. In Christianity, most of the time we act as if Jesus’ death on the cross was a simple, academic exercise, and God did it effortlessly because he had the thing won before the fight began, and he’s only concerned with the ultimate result, and can see through the here and now. In actuality, Jesus had passion in His heart just like every one of us. He had longings. He had emotions and desires that were every bit as strong and controlling as ours are. And to him – though he obviously knew that leaving his disciples behind would ultimately bring about the birth of the early church – leaving the twelve at that stage of the game was the hardest thing he could have done. He had spent the past three years pouring himself into them, and they still didn’t understand who he was! What had he come for if, three years into his ministry, he was to leave before his closest friend even fully understood why he came? Though he obviously knew the plan and how things would end, this is how he felt. He loved the disciples with a godly passion that was undeniable, but also human. And the human side of that passion made leaving them the scariest thing he could possibly do.
So what does this do for us? It shows us how to pray. Yes, God tells us to bring before him our requests. But I think He wants people to talk to him about the things that they honestly are torn up inside about – not just the things that other have told them to “talk to God about”. I think about this, and I ask myself how I would feel if my friend only talked to me about things other people had asked for him to remember when talking to me. I think that I would make him stop, and demand to know if he wasa really telling me what he thought, or just what other people had said. I would rather he talk to me than talk to me fore everyone else he knows. That doesn’t mean he can’t talk to me about other people; he just needs to tell me what he really wants or feels for that person.
I could write on and on about prayer and talking, but my point is pretty simple. If God is a person, then our prayer should include language that we could say to a person. With our words we should express what we truly feel, mindful that God wants to hear of our deepest longings, frustrations, opinions, likes, dislikes, and feelings of love and sadness – not just our simple requests. And second, when we talk to someone, we also must listen, meaning that our prayer should be filled with a readiness for God to respond. If we talked a friend’s ear off and never stopped for them to respond, they’d probably stop trying after a while.
Oh, I’ve prayed. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve prayed quite a bit. I’ll always probably say that I’ve not prayed as much as I should, but I have actually prayed quite a bit lately. So I can say honestly that I’ve prayed a good bit lately. But there’s a reason I would call it praying and not talking with God, and the reason is that when I talk to people, I don’t sound like I do when I’m praying. When I talk to people, I connect. I react. I consider. I measure my words, and I say things that I want them to know about me. But I don’t pray to people. In fact, I think that if I did, it would seem like the most impersonal, one-sided method of relating. When I pray, I just… talk (for lack of a better word) without paysing, mostly focusing on myself, my needs, or somehow indirectly on me. I don’t think that the way that I would pray would invite much of a response, were I to pray to some friend of mine.
So, going on with this same terminology, when I pray I don’t connect usually. I don’t listen. I don’t get deep. I’m not really emotional about much of anything; most of all, I am overly formal, and I sue words that I would never use while talking with my Father, friend, or a companion – all roles that Jesus ascribes to himself in the Bible.
But when I talk to people – especially my friends, my companion ( my girlfriend), or my father – I do connect. I am emotional. I am honest. I don’t play around; I try to choose my words carefully and say things that I really mean. I’m real and I’m significant – sometimes too significant – with the things that I talk about. And I usually talk about things for a long time – usually long enough that my friends loose interest.
Isn’t that a weird contrast? I mean, Jesus engaged his father in prayer before he was killed, and I think it was probably the most real, deepest, most significant conversation he had with anyone or anything during his time on earth. He wept. He sweated so intensely that drops of blood fell from his forehead. And who did he pray for? He prayed for himself, first and foremost.
"Father, the time has come. Glorify your Son, that your Son may glorify you. 2For you granted him authority over all people that he might give eternal life to all those you have given him. 3Now this is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent. 4I have brought you glory on earth by completing the work you gave me to do. 5And now, Father, glorify me in your presence with the glory I had with you before the world began.
He asked the Father – in a fashion that was more a directive than a request – to give him his due glory, the glory he had before the beginning of the universe. Then he recounts how he’s done all that the father asked. He has done all that was asked of him, and now all that is left is for him to be glorified as he was before. He knows that the father doesn’t need a reminder on this one; this is part of the biggest plan in the history of plans. The Father himself had made the plan; there was no doubt that the Father knew the next step. But Jesus still didn’t forego the opportunity to speak to his father from the heart about the most important moment in his earthly life. In going to the Father, he didn’t gloss over a list of prayer requests; he spoke to his dad honestly about what was tearing him up inside.
Then he wasn’t finished. He told the father about the twelve men that he had become closer to than anything else. I think this is something we forget all the time about God and how he redeemed us. In Christianity, most of the time we act as if Jesus’ death on the cross was a simple, academic exercise, and God did it effortlessly because he had the thing won before the fight began, and he’s only concerned with the ultimate result, and can see through the here and now. In actuality, Jesus had passion in His heart just like every one of us. He had longings. He had emotions and desires that were every bit as strong and controlling as ours are. And to him – though he obviously knew that leaving his disciples behind would ultimately bring about the birth of the early church – leaving the twelve at that stage of the game was the hardest thing he could have done. He had spent the past three years pouring himself into them, and they still didn’t understand who he was! What had he come for if, three years into his ministry, he was to leave before his closest friend even fully understood why he came? Though he obviously knew the plan and how things would end, this is how he felt. He loved the disciples with a godly passion that was undeniable, but also human. And the human side of that passion made leaving them the scariest thing he could possibly do.
So what does this do for us? It shows us how to pray. Yes, God tells us to bring before him our requests. But I think He wants people to talk to him about the things that they honestly are torn up inside about – not just the things that other have told them to “talk to God about”. I think about this, and I ask myself how I would feel if my friend only talked to me about things other people had asked for him to remember when talking to me. I think that I would make him stop, and demand to know if he wasa really telling me what he thought, or just what other people had said. I would rather he talk to me than talk to me fore everyone else he knows. That doesn’t mean he can’t talk to me about other people; he just needs to tell me what he really wants or feels for that person.
I could write on and on about prayer and talking, but my point is pretty simple. If God is a person, then our prayer should include language that we could say to a person. With our words we should express what we truly feel, mindful that God wants to hear of our deepest longings, frustrations, opinions, likes, dislikes, and feelings of love and sadness – not just our simple requests. And second, when we talk to someone, we also must listen, meaning that our prayer should be filled with a readiness for God to respond. If we talked a friend’s ear off and never stopped for them to respond, they’d probably stop trying after a while.
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