Seasons of Prayer

Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

I Thessalonians 5:16-18

Three years ago, when the pandemic first hit, I organized two weekly prayer gatherings with other women online. We were a small group who delighted in seeing other faces and connecting during that time of isolation, even on a screen. (Remember the newly coined term, Air Hugs?) During one of the gatherings, a friend from the group shared the verse above.

I admitted then, and still do, that “rejoicing, praying, and giving thanks” in the midst of that strange time felt really hard. As the weeks dragged on, with no end in sight for the pandemic, it felt very normal to worry and feel anxiety for our elderly parents, immunocompromised friends, and young children. As of March 2023, when they stopped keeping track of numbers, Johns Hopkins recorded over 1.1 million deaths from Covid in the United States alone. I’d say our heightened anxiety was valid. The opposition to wearing masks and instead chants of “Faith over fear” did not resonate with me.

Of all the subjects to write about, even now, prayer feels most difficult. Here we are, in the late summer/early fall, yet sometimes I find myself in a continual winter, wondering, “Where are the answers to my prayers?” Covid infections are still part of our reality, many things of concern have unraveled in our country. I used to ask my granddaughter over Zoom, “Do you have any questions today?” Violet is now six but had confessed to me one day as a three-year-old, “Nana, I’ve lost all of my questions” as she hung her head low. I thought to myself then, and still echo this reply, “Oh child, here are the questions that often run through my head like a broken record, especially in this age of heightened anxiety and division: How long, Lord? Will you forget us forever? How long will You hide Your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? (Psalm 13:1-2) Has God forgotten to be merciful? Has He in anger withheld His compassion? (Psalm 78:9) Sometimes when I find myself praying about the same concerns over and over, the enemy of my soul whispers, “Give up; that won’t help.” My heart can feel very brittle. Maybe you have felt the same way. Our hearts can feel discouraged and ravaged by unanswered prayers. The burdens, trials, and challenges people face are overwhelming. Life is difficult for so many right now. Our country is in intense turmoil. Why am I not continually on my knees?

I’m in the middle of reading Christian Wiman’s little epistle and memoir, My Bright Abyss: Meditations of a Modern Believer. His chapter, “Dear Oblivion”, begins like this: “I have never felt comfortable praying. I almost feel I should put the word in quotes, as I’m never quite sure that what I do deserves the name. I have a litany of stations through which I move- thank you, help me, be with, forgive- but mostly I simply (simply!) try to subject myself to the possibility of God. I address God as if.” Honestly, these days, I take comfort in this quote as I too struggle to formulate my prayers and remain faithful.

Verses like the one in 1 Thessalonians 5 are sometimes singled out as a sort of magic formula for believers. Like the Nike slogan, “Just do it”, we try to muster up enough faith to bypass all the pain of our different realities and circumstances and just try harder to be positive and optimistic. So we rejoice and say thanks in our prayers and bootstrap our way to remain cheerful and hopeful. The church in Thessalonica certainly didn’t consider their prayers as magic formula; most were new converts who understood for the first time the power of the forgiveness of Jesus Christ, who died on the cross to extend forgiveness to all who believed. This was an affront to the Jews who believed in their own rules-oriented system of faith. The young believers learned a bootstraps-type faith was an impossible theology to hold on to, and they must have considered it such a relief to rest in Christ’s mercy, deep love, and forgiveness, which led them to be faithful and thankful in prayer.

What does it mean to “pray continually”? In Invitations from God, spiritual director and authorAdele Calhoun invites believers to “live entirely with and in God-relating to Him at all times and in all things.” Quite the invitation, right? Jesus uses the illustration of the vine and the branches in John 15 to encourage us to set our orientation towards the Father from the time we wake up until bedtime. That seems daunting, and I confess, I don’t make the head and heart space for it often enough. I feel feeble in my efforts.  

But isn’t that the point, that we are all feeble in our attempts apart from God’s help? Author and therapist KJ Ramsey wrote about prayer in this way: “Prayer is not constant positivity. It is honesty held in our hands and hurled at the sky. Strangely, honesty about our hopelessness is what revives our hope.” (The Lord is My Courage)

Romans 8:26-27 encourages us to lean into God’s presence with our deepest hurts and longings-the things we struggle to say. “Likewise, the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.” The Spirit of Christ is already interceding for us. That is both comforting and safe. So we join with Him in our confusion and uncertainty and pray for the clarity and joy and hope of His peace and presence.

These five practices help my feeble legs to continue to walk the path of “continual prayer”:

  • I try to show up with my whole self to God, as I am, as authentically as I can. No need for fancy words; groans are accepted. Sometimes I sit and cry over things. I address God as if! (Thank you, Christian Wiman!) God collects our tears in a bottle, so tears are acceptable prayers.
  •  I read a Psalm every day; sometimes I connect with the words readily; sometimes I am moved to tears as I struggle to find hope. Many of the Psalms reveal deep lament, anger, and sorrow over injustice, pride, and greed. Keeping it real often reveals conviction of sin and need for repentance. The Holy Spirit will help. I find these encouraging words from KJ’s The Book of Common Courage: “Praise lifts our hands but lament holds our hardest prayers. Holiness hides nothing and widens everything. And you were made for a Love that cannot be contained.”
  • I remind myself that He alone is sovereign over all; He can be trusted in every situation. A surrendering breath prayer of “You’re God, I am not” reminds me of my littleness and place in the scheme of things. God doesn’t need prayer warriors; He desires, as Henri Nouwen puts it, “a heart faithful in adoration.” Psalm 51:17 confirms this: “My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise.”
  • I have found a small group of friends to pray with every Thursday morning on Zoom. This has been a lifeline for me in this season. Find one person you can pray with and be vulnerable about your life. As John Ortberg coined the phrase, we are the “Fellowship of the Withered Hand”.
  • I keep a small journal filled with prayer requests as they arise and page through that with updates and new requests as I pray for family and friends.

Some days feel more “flourishing” in my prayer times than others. Sometimes I can’t find the words in the wilderness, so I feel the big feelings in the wasteland or thorny path. Again, as Ramsey wrote, “When we find ourselves in another hard, dark valley, we are still in the circle of God’s care. In small moments, when our strength has shrunk yet again and words are hard to find, we are still in the story where a Shepherd seeks us.” (The Book of Common Courage)

The Shepherd seeks us…. He wants to draw us to Himself and to each other in prayer. As important as the things I pray for, is the person I am becoming in Christ as I interact with Him in this way. My prayer is that you are experiencing the richness of His grace as you spend time with Him and others in prayer, even during this present winter of our souls.

About those questions I’ve been stuck on like a broken record? I give myself permission to keep asking them. After all, Jesus echoed similar prayers in Gethsemane and on the cross: “Why, Father? Isn’t there another way?” His honest, raw prayers confirmed His incarnational life and sacrificial love. I now desire to have these questions on my lips as well… Whom have I in heaven but You? (Psalm 73:25); What is humankind that You are mindful of them, human beings that You care for them? (Psalm 8:4)

One thought on “Seasons of Prayer

  1. There is a beautiful depth in your honest reflection of sorrow and hope. A request to keep “rejoicing, praying, and giving thanks” is a reminder to stay alive, keep breathing, and with every breath echo back our gratitude. Your exploration on this topic reminds me of a diver that braves the depths of the sea and finds real beauty.

Comments are closed.