No Choice But to Pray

Jacques Ellul puts the matter of prayer in the proper perspective for me. In his stimulating and insightful book Prayer and Modern Man, he says, "In the realm of prayer we can make no other claim than to obey." He reveals the hypocrisy of our usual rationale for prayer: to manipulate God and to procure for ourselves, or to produce some psychic peace in our depths.

He then turns us to the words of scripture and Jesus' command to "watch and pray." Prayer has very little to do with words, but rather is the reality of life lived in and through the living God as known in scripture. Ellul’s book states that it is a crucial matter of faith to choose that form of life in a doubting and cynical world, and to watch with hope for the coming of Jesus. Prayer rooted in the command and hope of scripture is the only way in which faith is maintained. The life of prayer is commanded for the disciple, not chosen.

Amen! It is exciting to read Ellul's bold statement about the absolute necessity of prayer in this day of vapid and saccharine writing on that subject. My concern is twofold. First, that we have become such activists that most of us have little time for prayer. We have lost the knowledge of the critical nature of prayer--that it is a matter of faith commitment and a demand that God not keep silent in our day.

I am also concerned about the lack of places to pray. Now this may sound strange to some, especially to Protestant ears. Why do we need a place to pray? We are comfortable with tossing off prayers as we rush through our current program, or engage in artful oratory before an audience--which we have been known to call pastoral prayer.

Seeking Solitude
It is instructive to note the witness of the gospels concerning Jesus and his life of prayer. His reputation continued to grow and large crowds would gather to hear him and to have their sickness cured. But he always went off to some place where he could be alone and pray (Luke 5:15-16; see also Matthew 14:23 and 26:36, John 6:15, Mark 1:35, Luke 6:12 and Luke 9:28-29). Jesus felt the need to withdraw to a quiet place for prayer on a regular basis. There was a dialogue in his life between the times of active ministry and the times of prayer-filled solitude. The rhythm of the journey inward and the journey outward, as we call it in my own community, is the alternation of prayerful waiting in God's presence, expectantly feeding on the Word, and the outward manifestation of that Word as it becomes a reality in our lives as servant people in the world.

But why speak of a place to pray? Can't one pray anywhere? Theoretically and theologically, yes. God is not sequestered at some precise place to which we must go in order to be in touch with the divine presence. However, the point is that we need some precise place to go in order to more fully enter into the Presence who enables us to pray. We need this no less, and most certainly more than, Jesus did. Our cramped technological society is constantly bombarding us with noise, sights, smells, and thrills. It insists that we cannot be happy if we are alone or quiet. And to speak of obedience to and communion with a God who was long ago declared dead is to be subjected to ridicule and the most determined assault on our faith's rootedness.

So we go apart to be quiet and expectant in the Lord's presence. We are fed by the scripture, we beg for healing, we struggle for faith, and we wait for the coming of the grace-filled moment of love and hope. In our own homes we can provide space and time for this life of prayer, through what Catherine de Hueck Doherty calls a "poustinia," in her book by the same name. Poustinia is the Russian word for desert or wilderness. It is traditional for a Christian in Russia to set aside a room in her house, or a cabin in his woods, to be used for prayer and meditation. One goes there for twenty-four hours, taking only the Bible, bread, water, and a simple straw mattress for sleeping and dreaming.

Perhaps we can create poustinias in our own homes, for ourselves and others, places of silence, prayer, and hospitality with the Lord. If we do this for a period each day--dare we say even an hour?--watching and waiting with the Lord, then we can come to know the poustinia in our hearts where Jesus is always present to us and goes with us into a wounded and doubting world.

I also feel it is critical for Christian communities to set aside places for prayer, meditation, and healing. Traditionally Roman Catholic orders have provided guest houses and retreat centers for the experience of spiritual retreat. Early on in its own life, the Church of the Saviour established its own Dayspring Retreat Farm. Yokefellows (a largely Protestant group sponsoring retreats) has established centers around the country. But in the financial crunch of our day, and because of the demand for therapy rather than prayer, many such places for prayer have collapsed. I would suggest that today, more than ever, we need places where persons can go from time to time for solitude, prayer, and reflection on scriptures and on their own lives. They need not be fancy. In fact, simplicity provides the space for the Lord to do his work of healing and vision-giving.

Jesus commands us to "watch and pray." If we are able to be persons of faith, then we will be persons of prayer. If we are to be persons of hope and healing in the world, then we will be persons for whom living is praying, and praying is living. In short, we have no choice but to pray.

Conrad Hoover served as the retreat master of Church of the Saviour in Washington, D.C., when this article appeared.