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Patterns
for Prayer
Let the psalms teach you
how to converse with God.
by Howard Baker
Now I lay me down to sleep.... God is great, God is good.... Our Father who art in
heaven.... God bless Mommy and Daddy and Grandma and Grandpa." Many of us first
learned to pray using such phrases. As we grew in prayer, we needed form and structure.
They were provided through helpful devices such as the ACTS acrostic:
Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, Supplication. But after a while, even these
valuable helps can grow a bit stale. So we tend to flit from one prayer method to the next
as quickly as a bird moves from branch to branch. All of these efforts accurately point to
the reality that we, like the disciples, are crying out, "Lord, teach us to
pray."
Mature prayer is a learned skill.
Learning to pray depends on two realities that require our intense participation: an
awareness of the depth of our own experiences and the ability to articulate a response
to God "out of the depths." Most of us are acutely aware of the deep needs,
joys, struggles, and questions that comprise our life situations. But are we able to
respond to God in the midst of the stuff of life? This is where I was blocked in prayer. A
journal entry of several years ago reveals the frustration that led me to the psalms:
During the last year I have been drawn to the psalms because of the intensity and
honesty of the struggles they portray in a person's relationship to God and the world. For
years the verse about not knowing how to pray as I ought served as an excuse for my
sophomoric efforts in conversation with God, when in reality God Himself had supplied a
toolbox for constructing a meaningful prayer life. All of the formulas, acrostics, and
gimmicks to make praying simple and easy are exposed as shallow in the face of the
pulsating reality, life, and depth of the psalms as a guide to prayer. I learn to pray by
praying and the psalms provide the pattern for me. As I pray the psalms, they leave their
mark on my soul until finally I find my own prayers conforming to the original pattern.
Only later did I learn that my experience with the psalms was part of a long and deep
tradition within the church that has been shared by millions. J. L. Mays observed in his
commentary on Psalms, "The psalms have been used widely and continuously to nurture
and guide personal meditations and devotions. Christians have said them as their own
prayers, as guides to learning to pray, and as texts through which they came to know
themselves and God more surely."
The 4th-century bishop Ambrose called the psalms "a gymnasium of the soul."
It is the place where we go for daily workouts in prayer fitness. Why are the psalms so
effective in maturing us in prayer? Why have they worked so well for so many people for so
many centuries? How can they bring new life and energy to tired "quiet times"?
It's a Group Thing!
Psalms were meant to be prayed together.
Many of us have profited greatly from reading and praying the psalms
individually. Yet originally, the psalms were intended to be used in public worship. The
original settings of the individual psalms are unknown, though a few psalms offer clues in
their headings. We do know that the psalms were the prayer book for the temple and
synagogue from the time of King David onward. This means that even when we pray the psalms
in personal devotions, we pray as members of a larger praying community, not as
individuals.
Psalms teach us the proper prepositions of prayer. A preposition is a
word that governs a noun or pronoun and expresses its relationship with another word. So
the prepositions that are attached to the noun prayer govern the kind of praying
that happens. The prepositions that govern prayer in the psalms are with, under,
and for.
All the psalms are in the form of prayer with others. We know this from
the liturgical markers inserted throughout the book of Psalms. Seventy-one times we see
the word selah as a notation in the margin. Scholars believe it indicates some sort of
direction for group worship. Other musical instructions are scattered throughout the
psalms.
Jesus and His disciples would have prayed and sung the psalms together
as they observed the Jewish tradition of morning and evening prayer. The Apostle Paul
encouraged the early Christians to use the psalms as part of their worship (Eph. 5:19,
Col. 3:16).
Jesus confirmed this communal nature of prayer when He said, "Where
two or three come together in my name, there am I with them" (Mt. 18:20). Therefore,
whether alone or in public worship, whenever we pray the psalms we join in prayer with a
"great cloud of witnesses" that includes the ancient worshipers of Israel, Jesus
and the disciples, the early church, and praying Christians from two millennia. What a
prayer meeting!
Not only do we join others when we pray, but the psalms show us that we
pray under the direction of someone assigned to lead us in prayer. "To the choir
director," another liturgical direction, occurs as a heading in 55 psalms. These
psalms show us that a worship leader was commonly a part of the praying life of Israel.
The Israelites learned to pray by being led in prayer.
When I am led in prayer I am freed from the burden of taking the
initiative, of being in charge, of choosing the right words. I can follow. I can submit.
My ego is set aside. Grace rushes in.
This was my experience for an entire week that I spent at St. Meinrad
Archabbey in Indiana with 150 Benedictine monks. Three times a day I joined them for
worship and experienced being led in prayer. Praying and singing the psalms together under
the direction of the choirmaster were at the heart of the worship. I would often enter the
sanctuary full of myself but, after being led in prayer, would leave full of God. Prayer
"under" had done its work.
We can pray the psalms in various ways in our worship services. We can
sing them in familiar choruses such as "Bless the Lord, O My Soul" or "Thy
Word." A psalm can be prayed in unison by the entire congregation or antiphonally
with the two sides of the sanctuary alternating verses. A reader can read the psalm while
the congregation prays silently. Or we can read them responsively.
When we take our proper place as part of a praying community we cannot
help but pray "for" those we pray with. This is especially true as we pray the
psalms. The psalm that I am praying may be a lament, but I find myself in a hallelujah
mood. Then I become aware of the sister in the next pew who is suffering from cancer, or I
awake to the brother in the next continent facing starvation. I can pray that lament for
my brother or sister in pain. When the psalm does not suit my situation, I am being given
the opportunity to pray it "for" someone else. And at the same time there may be
another worshiper celebrating God's blessing in my life "for" me, praying that
psalm of praise. Therein through our comingled prayers is community built.
It has been said that the person wrapped up in himself makes a very
small package. This is especially true in prayer. The psalms will not allow it. They
enable us to get the prepositions of prayer straight: with, under, and for.
Prayer firmly rooted in community, in the body of Christ, is the prayer that the psalms
train us in. Only in this rich soil of corporate worship can my personal prayer deepen and
blossom.
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The psalms teach us to pray honestly.
"Why, O LORD, do you reject me and hide your face from me?" (Ps. 88:14).
After a few months of praying the psalms, dramatic changes began to emerge in my
relationship with God as this journal entry indicates:
The joyous result for me has been freedom to pray the full range of my feelings,
whether positive or negative, without having my feelings dictating my response to God. I
feel I have been given permission to be nakedly honest with myself and before the Lord.
Now I know from experience that God is fully able to handle my honest, gut-level responses
to the raw edge of life as I struggle before Him. It is a tremendous comfort to realize
that honesty does not mean infidelity, but that honesty is prerequisite to fidelity.
In the crucible of honest prayer incredible transformation occurs. Mourning is turned
into dancing, doubt becomes confidence, despair blossoms into hope, and pain becomes the
vehicle for God's grace.
Jesus prayed honestly upon the cross: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken
me?" (Ps. 22:1, Mt. 27:46). When I, too, am honest with God about my
"whys," I will be given grace to pray with faith the prayer of surrender that
Jesus prayed: "Into your hands I commit my spirit" (Ps. 31:5, Lk. 23:46). Often
in these last few years I have felt the sting of the words of Psalm 31 as I prayed them:
"I am forgotten as a dead man, out of mind, I am like a broken vessel" (v. 12,
NASB). Yet I found hope from the same psalm as I continued to pray: "My times are in
your hand" (v. 15), and "How great is your goodness" (v. 19), thus
realizing that I am safe "in the shelter of your presence" (v. 20).
The psalms lead us into a conversation with God that is robustly honest and boldly
uncensored. Prayer ceases to be a polite "Sunday dress-up" exercise and instead
becomes communication that is intimate, passionate, and expressive of what is going on in
the core of our souls. The psalmist says it best in the opening line of Psalm 130,
"Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD."
The psalms teach us to pray comprehensively.
"Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?" (Ps.
139:7).
Many of the methods that claim to instruct in prayer only serve to reduce prayer by
making it manageable and predictable. Formulas, in order to simplify, invariably omit part
of who I am or part of what I am experiencing. Prayer then becomes smaller. It becomes a
task rather than a life. And ultimately real life and prayer begin to exist in separate
compartments with few points of contact. Prayer becomes a duty that I never feel I have
sufficiently fulfilled.
In contrast, the call of the Bible is not to more prayer, but to a life of
prayer--unceasing prayer, as the Apostle Paul expresses it. Jesus calls it a life of
"abiding." The psalms are the only prayer guide that enlarges prayer so that
everything is pulled into it. Prayer becomes the great conversation. Nothing is too large
or too small to be prayed.
In Psalm 2 there is a macro-prayer concerning the nations. In Psalm 6 and many other
psalms there is micro-prayer concerning the state of my soul. And there is everything in
between. The psalms are thoroughly inclusive and teach us to pray at all times and not to
lose heart. They lead me to remember the poor, such as when I pray Psalm 113: "He
raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap" (v. 7). They
also give me confidence to cry out to God when I am the one who is needy: "Save me, O
God" (Ps. 69:1).
I am continually surprised by the issues of life that we neglect to submit to prayer
and thus become discouraged about. One friend was going through a very difficult time in
his marriage and was despondent over it. No solutions were on the horizon. So I asked the
somewhat obvious question, "Have you expressed to the Lord your despair, confusion,
and hurt?" His response stunned me: "I haven't because I feel guilty and
ashamed." When we hide our hearts from God we are avoiding the only One who can bring
healing and transformation. Once my friend began to express his deepest self to God, the
door of his life was opened to the comfort and hope that only Jesus can bring. The psalms
help us open that door and keep it open.
The psalms teach us to pray in a God-centered way.
"My soul waits in silence for God only; . . . He only is my rock and my
salvation" (Ps. 62:1-2, NASB).
The cause of many of our struggles in prayer is self-absorption. Prayer degenerates
into a litany of my needs, my desires, and my concerns, with God serving as an adjunct to
my agenda. The psalms deliver us from self-centered praying. Another journal entry
chronicles this discovery in my experience:
Finally, I see that sincere praise is the final destination of the journey of prayer,
though there may be several short stops along the way. This is the true work of prayer: to
respond honestly to Jesus, the Word, circumstances, and relationships before the Lord so
that the end result is the ability to worship in spirit and truth.
Psalm praying can begin with my agenda, but it always ends with God. With only a few
exceptions, each psalm ends in praise. The Hebrew title of the book of Psalms is Praises.
They lead us out of ourselves to the majesty of the Almighty God. Another 4th-century
bishop, Athanasius, commented that the psalms not only stir up the emotions but also
moderate them.
Eugene Peterson, from whom I learned to pray the psalms, says it best in his book
Answering God:
The Psalms were not prayed by people trying to understand themselves. They are not the
record of people searching for the meaning of life. They were prayed by people who
understood that God had everything to do with them. God, not their feelings, was the
center. God, not their souls, was the issue. God, not the meaning of life, was critical.
I can participate in God-centeredness when praying a psalm such as Psalm 16: "You
are my Lord; apart from you I have no good thing. . . . You have made known to me the path
of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right
hand" (vv. 2,11).
C. S. Lewis in his Reflections on the Psalms refers to praying the psalms as an
experience that is fully God-centered. "As I pray with the psalms I find my concerns,
whether petty or important, leading me to God. I discover that in the midst of the chaos
that is my life, God is creating, saving, and redeeming. And I can praise Him for
it!"
The psalms teach us to pray responsively.
"The heavens declare the glory of God. . . . The law of the LORD is perfect"
(Ps. 19:1,7).
Prayer is the elemental language of response. I cry "Help!" when in trouble,
say "Thanks!" when given a gift, complain when mistreated, say "Wow!"
at a beautiful sunrise, or reply "I'm sorry" to a hurt friend. When these
responses to life are addressed to God they become prayer.
God's initiating Word demands an answer, just as any parent requires an answer when
calling to a child. Though we often reverse the order, God is always the initiator and we
are always responders. Nowhere is this more evident than in maturing prayer. The psalms
provide us with 150 "answers" to God's first words
to us. The answer may be "Thanks!" or "Help!" or "Forgive
me!" or a complaint or a praise. The psalms furnish us with a vocabulary for
responding to God in every situation.
In Pursuit of God A. W. Tozer identifies three facts about the God to whom we pray: God
is previous, God is present now, and God is speaking. Therefore the first word is God's.
God has spoken in creation for which we have psalms of praise: "O LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth" (Ps. 8:1). God has spoken in salvation
for which we have psalms of thanksgiving: "What shall I render to the LORD for all
His benefits toward me? . . . To Thee I shall offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving" (Ps.
116:12,17, NASB). God has spoken through our circumstances, and the psalms of lament
provide us response: "Evening, morning and noon, I cry out in distress, and he hears
my voice" (Ps. 55:17). God speaks even through injustice, for which we have the
imprecatory psalms (those that ask God to judge evil): "Rise up, O Judge of the
earth; pay back to the proud what they deserve" (Ps. 94:2). God speaks through our
consciences so we are furnished with psalms of confession: "I know my transgressions,
and my sin is always before me" (Ps. 51:3). Thus prayer begins with a listening
attentiveness to God's presence and voice in the world, in others, in the Word, in myself,
and in my circumstances. The psalms give us a vocabulary with which to respond to God,
with which to answer the Word He has spoken so eloquently and forcefully.
Just do it!
A friend whom I had encouraged to pray the psalms commented to me, "More than
anything else in 30 years of being a Christian, praying the psalms has transformed my
relationship with God." This is a man who has been to seminary, who has been
faithfully serving Christ, and who has been seeking the Lord for many years. Yet for him,
it was the simplicity of praying the psalms that made the difference.
There is no secret or key to praying the psalms. We simply open our Bibles to the book
of Psalms and begin. The traditional practice is to divide the psalms into 30 equal
segments, one for each day of the month, and pray them. Daily. Sequentially. Simply let
the words of the psalms be your prayer. You will begin to notice the connections with your
life. You may want to journal about what emerges for you as you pray. Psalm praying is
capable of unlimited adaptation. Experiment with it. Have fun with it. Keep in mind these
words of Eugene Peterson: "This is how most Christians for most of the Christian
centuries have matured in prayer. Nothing fancy. Just do it."
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