I’m continuing to read through Yancey’s book on prayer that I wrote about last week. The following is another quote that got me to thinking about my own experience in prayer:

I know what happens in human relationships when I remain at a shallow level. With casual friends I discuss the weather, sports, upcoming concerts and movies, all the while steering clear of what matters more: a suppressed hurt, hidden jealousy, resentment of their children’s rude behavior, concern for their spiritual welfare. As a result, the relationship goes nowhere. On the other hand, relationships deepen as I trust my friends with secrets.

Likewise, unless I level with God - about bitterness over an unanswered prayer, grief over loss, guilt over an unforgiving spirit, a baffling sense of God’s absence - that relationship, too, will go nowhere. I may continue going to church, singing hymns and praise choruses, even addressing God politely in formal prayers, but I will never break through the intimacy barrier. ‘We must lay before Him what is in us, not what ought to be in us.’, wrote C.S. Lewis. To put it another way, we must trust God with what God already knows.

Many times when I begin to pray, I have this feeling inside me that God is annoyed at me. Not because he doesn’t want to hear from me, but rather the opposite. I’ve put off prayer for some time, and I fear that he’s on the other end of the line saying, “Oh, now you want to talk? I’ve been here waiting, you know - waiting to hear from you. Where have you been for the last week??” I know I’ve not spent the time and effort on my end of the relationship. He’s always there, willing to listen, and respond, yet I remain silent.

I suspect this is often the cause of the prayer droughts that I experience from time to time. What do I say, especially when I’ve said so little for so long? When I don’t talk to a friend for a long period of time, I tend to find it harder, not easier, to carry on the conversation. It’s been a long time. I should have talked with them sooner. Maybe they’re upset with me for delaying so long. I wonder if the relationship has suffered and it’s my fault.

I occasionally have similar feelings with prayer. And perhaps because that doubt lurks within and I have difficulty in finding words, I revert back to learned prayers and expressions just to get through it. Some sort of “safe” prayer, with all the right buzzwords. The Christianity I grew up with was often focused on form and formula more than anything else, and so I find it easy, perhaps even natural, to resort to some sort of prayer formula, inserting various “prayer words” or “prayer phrases.” It results in a handful of praises and “thank you’s”, a few requests, and hurriedly jumps to the end. I do all the talking, as quickly as possible, and little listening. In the end, I never really get down to having a conversation.

Conversation with an unseen God is difficult for me. There was a time in my life where it was much easier, and even normal. But at some point, for reasons I’m not even sure I can pinpoint, that began to deteriorate and it gradually became more difficult. Even if I begin by attempting to have a real, meaningful dialogue, I end up just repeating the same old lines, and look to end it as soon as I can. Then I look back at it and feel like I’ve not said anything at all. Most often, that’s an accurate assessment.

Perhaps contemplating Lewis’ quote will aid me in moving past the ordinary and the ritual and into something more meaningful in prayer. And I like Yancey’s phrasing - trusting Him with what He already knows. I can’t hide what’s inside, no more than Adam could hide in the garden after the fall. He already knows what I need. He knows the sin I need to confess. He knows what I’m feeling, be it gratitude for a blessing, unworthiness to approach him, desire for Him to act in a certain situation, questioning why He remains silent, or just plain angry at Him about an injustice I see. He knows it all.

And, of course, I’m aware of that. I believe the problem is that, much of the time, I’m unwilling to talk about those things. I don’t always want to discuss the realities of my life, especially the problems I might be working through, the character flaws I know I must work on, the anger or disappointment I might feel with Him. I don’t really want to, as Yancey puts it, “level with God.” It’s too much work to be honest and drag out all of the ugliness that I should, and I feel like too much of a fair-weather friend to make very many requests for help. I just want to act as if everything is fine and move on. However, if I’m willing to do that - level with God - and willing to stop pretending to be something we both know I’m not, then I just might see more positives in my experience with God conversations.

There will still be times when I want to cut the call short. There will still be times when I have nothing to say, and I don’t want to talk. There will be times I just want to get it over with. There will still be times when the silence from the other end of the line is deafening. But I long for something better. I long for something that, in time, will become more natural, and certainly more meaninful than repetition of past prayers just to check it off my list. And I believe it will, in time. It’s just not always there right now.