We don’t pray as much in church these days. Just ask most pastors how well-attended their congregational prayer meetings are. Even on Sunday mornings, prayer is an opportunity for a quick set change or transition, to move things around while everyone has their eyes closed. It’s as if prayer becomes a cover for something else, as if it needs a prop to make it more efficient and practical.
Most of us struggle with prayer in private also. Prayer seems useless. Most of the time, we don’t feel super close to God when we pray (although, I think, this is actually a good thing). We don’t often see “results”—clear answers that are undeniably downstream from your prayers. We can’t measure the supposed spiritual growth we’re told should be happening.
So what’s the point? Why spend time on our knees meditating, talking to God, or reciting psalms, when afterward we don’t have anything to show for it? Surely there must be a better use of our time, a different route to achieving and accomplishing something good.
The Uselessness of Constant Prayer
You will never think prayer is a good use of your time if you’re thinking of prayer in terms of usefulness. That is the wrong starting point.
For prayer to make sense, we must shift our perspective. John Starke says, “Prayer is either the greatest insanity or the most wonderful news.” It’s insanity if there is no God and we’re just talking to the walls. It’s astounding if prayer is real communion with God in the name of the Son with the help of the Spirit.
Inward Impact
What is happening to us, inside, when we pray? A reordering of the heart. Here’s a hard truth: If your prayer life feels superficial and shallow, it’s usually a reflection of the superficiality and shallowness of what’s inside you. Prayer holds up a mirror and shows us the pathetic condition of our hearts. We flit from request to request for what we think we want, while missing the deeper desires God wants to give us.
Over time, praying works on us from the inside out, inviting us into communion with our Father who delights to hear us, even when we sound childish and immature. We’re his kids, and he loves us, and he smiles to see us growing up into the fullness of faith. As we echo the words of the psalmists, as we join our voices to the great saints of old, as we soak in the Scriptures, we find our hearts growing larger. Perseverance in prayer leads to the transformation of our desires.
Outward Impact
But prayer is not just about us, of course. We pray for the benefit of others. Whenever we pray, we join a chorus of voices all around the world who stand with us before the throne of grace. There’s no possibility of ever praying the Lord’s Prayer alone, because someone, somewhere is saying those words right along with you, just as Jesus instructed. Prayer is generosity, devoting a small measure of attention to the needs of others. To pray for someone is to accompany another person, to join your heart and mind to someone in time of need. Prayer is the mystical dissolution of loneliness.
Too many times, we think of prayer as a prerequisite for real ministry. But Oswald Chambers was right: “Prayer is not preparation for the work; Prayer is the work.” Prayer’s inward work turns us outward.
Think on this. Because God is outside time, he can answer prayers from people in previous centuries. You can pray now for something you’ll never see in your lifetime. Think of your prayers like objects you launch into space that continue to float and travel through the universe until God sees fit to draw them into a particular orbit and bring them safely to his desired destination. God might answer the prayer today, or next year, or a thousand years from now. “Prayers are deathless,” wrote E.M. Bounds. “They outlive the lives of those who uttered them.”
Upward Direction
None of this makes prayer easy. It’s hard for everyone. I need help, which is why I’ve developed guides for praying, so that my spontaneous intercessions and personal requests are framed around a regimen of reciting psalms or reading through other portions of Scripture. But even with a guide, it’s easy for my mind to wander. It’s hard work keeping your focus on God, praising him for his attributes, and lifting up to him the needs of others.
Why do this hard work? Especially when it doesn’t seem useful?
Because God is bigger than us. When we pray, we’re not in the realm of results and statistics, “trade-offs” and “metrics” and “measures.” We’re not in a world of success and failure. Prayer is training us to look up to the God whose first and greatest commandment is to love him with our whole heart, mind, and soul. You cannot measure or quantify that goal. You can only give yourself over to that desire and direction.
The reason the triune God calls us to converse with him, Tim Keller wrote, is “because he wants to share the joy he has. Prayer is our way of entering into the happiness of God himself.”
Glorious Uselessness
Is it useful to love your spouse? Is spending time with your kids efficient? How productive is your conversation with a close friend? Terms like “useful,” “efficient,” and “productive” are silly when applied to our closest relationships. Here, we’re not talking about whatever feels practical and useful. We’re in the realm of love. This is about joy.
So, take heart. Prayer is useless, gloriously so, because prayer cannot be useful. Prayer is not an instrument, but an end. Its consummation is closeness with God and the joy that comes from his presence. Remember that truth until the work becomes your worship.
If you would like my future articles sent to your email, as well as a curated list of books, podcasts, and helpful links I find online, enter your address.
