” … that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me.” (John 17: 21, NIV)

“I pray that they will all be one, just as you and I are one–as you are in me, Father, and I am in you. And may they be in us so that the world will believe you sent me.” (John 17: 21, NLT)

I’ve heard it said, often before and recently, that the prayer meetings in churches are usually attended by, at most, 10% of the congregation. Apparently, we’re still downsizing and the number is getting smaller! What is it about prayer or the psychology of prayer that attracts us, and at the same time, puts us off? We’re rather schizophrenic, I think. But let me be honest. When I don’t turn up for a prayer meeting, it is usually because I’m bored. Whether or not that is my fault, it’s still true.

I have been ruminating on this prayer thing for some time. Providentially, I was flipping through my devotional (another Oswald Chambers one), and lo and behold! what should be my reading for yesterday and today but … prayer! Chambers just has this knack of turning up with the right word at the right time. I believe that is called wisdom! His wise words were a simple explanation of what prayer truly means to the child of God. And it hit me on the head with just the right amount of ouch! to remind me of that.

His little reading is from John 17: 21. The single thing that today’s devotional said to me was Chambers’ first line: “Prayer is not getting things from God: that is a most initial stage.” And there you have it. Though Jesus tells us to ask our Father for all our needs, nevertheless, prayer is not about just that because that is simply saying your A,B,C’s. Of course, we are taught and encouraged to persevere in prayer to train ourselves in seriousness and focus and faith. Most books on prayer focus on this bit that Chambers insists is but “an initial stage.” The nub of this prayer matter, for him, is elsewhere.

It lies in the fact that we have a relationship with God, our Father. Pray because of that reason–we have a Father who loves us magnificently, and who is, the minute we ask for something, all ears and attentive love. So asking is not something we need to worry about: God will give us an answer when we ask. Rather, when we engage in prayer, we are in communion with God, the Divine. Jesus prays that his disciples will experience that indeed–oneness with God that changes us, draws us close to him, and makes us like him. When we place ourselves before him, acknowledging his greatness and our smallness, his Spirit takes hold of us and prays through us and in us. Irrespective of our spiritual perfections or imperfections, the Spirit prays. This interaction between God’s Spirit and our spirits is necessary for his transforming power and work to take place in us. When we pray, the life of God in us is nourished and strengthened. No Bible hero ever became heroic or did exploits for God without having spent long hours in prayer to God. We can only be spiritually strong if we purposefully nourish that spiritual life in us by prayerful communion.

The rich life of the prayer closet extends itself outwards in this way. When the life of prayer is strong in us, we inevitably breathe prayer–that’s unceasing prayer! It then becomes second nature to us to live prayer. In this sense, we publicly pray.

I’ve also heard it said that public prayer ought to be short. True, long, sonorous prayers have a soporific effect on most of us. But some short prayers ought not to be prayed either! The length is not what matters. It’s what comes out of the prayer, short or long. But I like what D.A. Carson says about public prayer: in public prayer, there is a pedagogic angle that many people don’t think about. When we are asked to pray publicly, we ought to remember that our prayers should reflect as much of God’s mind as possible, not our mind or our needs or our whatever. So our public prayers can help to set others thinking about God and believing in God in good, biblical ways. There’s no better example of such a praying person than the apostle Paul. So it’s really what comes out of us that makes the difference in our praying, and not how long it takes. (I’ve heard Carson pray some long prayers, and been totally encouraged and strengthened by those prayers.)

Will my (or your) pondering on prayer raise those dratted prayer meeting attendance percentages from 6% or 10% to >10%? I haven’t a clue. But it will make me a better pray-er and Christian, I think; it will certainly realign my eyesight to see prayer more thoroughly as “getting into perfect communion with God” rather than “getting things from God.”

Now after six days Jesus took Peter, James, and John, and led them up on a high mountain apart by themselves; and He was transfigured before them. (Mark 9: 2)

… he traveled forty days and forty nights until he reached Horeb, the mountain of God. There he went into a cave and spent the night. And the word of the Lord came to him: “What are you doing here, Elijah?” He replied, “I have been very zealous for the Lord God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, broken down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too.” The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.

Then a voice said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (1 Kings 19: 8-13)

I was reading my devotional from Oswald Chambers on this verse recently, and Chambers being Chambers, what he said struck a deep chord. The “true test of our spiritual life,” says he, is not in how many mountain experiences God graciously leads us into, but rather, ”is in exhibiting the power to descend from the mountain.” For the past few months, I have been on a personal journey, seeking God about–mainly–his ways. Currently, I am also taking a course on the history and foundations of Pentecostalism. In both, I realised my own need to scale some difficult heights, and to find God on his holy mountain. And in both, God encouraged me much to persist in that climb. So this verse from Mark came at an interestingly timely moment as a reminder and caution that any mountaintop experiences God gives me ought to find their natural consequence in the descent. And in fact, we climb mountains only to descend, do we not?

We were not meant to live in isolated splendour in high places. As Chambers put it, these times of exaltation are intended for “moments of inspiration.” But the litmus test of true spirituality–the true touch of God’s empowerment and grace–is to go back down into the valley, where the ordinary things of life, and the most imperfect of situations, exist. If our mountaintop experience means anything at all from the perspective of eternity, then it has to be manifested via our “execution” of both God’s power and holiness in the dailiness of the life of the valley. God presents no greater challenge to us than this, that we are to be his holy reflections of light in the darkness of the basin below.

Mark 9: 14 pushes the bible narrative we are considering quickly forward. From the wonderful experience of Jesus’ transfiguration of previous verses, verse 14 states quite simply, “When they came to the other disciples, they saw a large crowd …” Peter, James and John were always meant to descend … back into the crowds pressing and pushing, arguing, despairing, searching … “As soon as all the people saw Jesus, they were overwhelmed with wonder and ran to greet him” (9: 15). The seamlessness of Jesus’ life is depicted here (and is what we should emulate too). Amid the arguing teachers of the law and the needy folks, he heals a boy with an evil spirit (vv. 17-26).

God leads us up to bring us down to where we are most needed, and where we can do the most good to the best effect. It’s fitting to end this devotion with a thought from the prophet Elijah’s own mountaintop experience in 1 Kings 19. On the run from the threats of Jezebel, Elijah scales the heights of Horeb, the mountain of God, and spends a night in the cave there. God turns up on his own mountain, and, as if caught by surprise at Elijah’s unannounced arrival, asks him: “What are you doing here?”

Elijah got his audience with God, who conversed with him and encouraged his flagging spirit. And immediately after, God gave Elijah a new commission: “Go back the way you came, and go to the Desert of Damascus. When you get there, anoint Hazael king over Aram. Also, anoint Jehu son of Nimshi king over Israel, and anoint Elisha son of Shaphat from Abel Meholah to succeed you as prophet” (1 Kings 19: 15-16).

Go back down …

While we cherish the times of inspiration that God provides, we cannot measure spirituality in such ways. Spirituality is better measured in terms of how such experiences propel us further and deeper into participation and involvement in God’s purposes for humankind. What I gathered from my reading on Pentecostal foundations, for instance, is this: that many people who congregated at Azusa Street in 1906, seeking God and praying for his outpouring, were then compelled to leave that very place of “exaltation” for “the uttermost parts of the earth,” bringing the message of reconciliation and comfort with them, often at the cost of their own lives. Like Jesus and his disciples, like Elijah, that was the test of their spirituality: they were empowered with the power of descent.

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable–if anything is excellent or praiseworthy–think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.” (Philippians 4: 8-9)

It always amazes me how differently Scripture views what is ‘savvy’ or wise and truly practical. I didn’t grow up in an environment where people around me were streetwise or crafty or cunning. The reverse was true. But to be too philosophically idealistic was considered to be … impractical and gullible. Few however, compare with some of the people I have met along the way who, to me, really embody and exhibit cunning quite matchlessly. Certainly, they are incapable of being gulled and taken advantage of. Often, they are the culprits who take advantage of more gullible ones. Without conscience, without ethics to stand by their Christian convictions (alas, yes … Christians …), they are (strangely) regarded by many hapless types to be both clever and successful. This seems to be the way of the world.

But no. Oneupsmanship doesn’t do it. Being able to charm or argue or worm one’s way out of things doesn’t really mean cleverness or success at all. In fact, I think there’s something demeaningly ugly and sneaking about it all in a fawning Uriah Heep sort of way.

Philippians 4: 8-9 reads like a list of truly impractical things to do. But Scripture insists that this is how we will find peace and wisdom and discernment. The verses sound entirely impractical and naive and idealistic for good reason: they were meant to be! What saving grace! Instead of centering our minds on worthless things–such as, how can we best the other fellow; or, how can we wriggle out of a doubtful situation; or, how can we take a stab at someone without being caught–we should focus on thinking and doing what is morally excellent. Sounds like a Morals class. But it gets even more ‘impractical’! Paul encourages the Philippians to imitate him in his naive and idealistic thinking! Where was he anyway when he wrote to the Philippians but under house arrest in Rome!

Nevertheless, Paul assures us, this was the way to go. Think true, pure, noble, lovely, admirable, excellent, praiseworthy and right thoughts. Do the same, and Scripture promises, our lives will be full of God’s peace. Paul’s point is that these ‘impractical’ virtues are good for us to focus on because they are the qualities and expressions of God himself. They characterise God, and ought to characterise us too, if we are really, as we claim, the children of God.

‘True’ means what is ‘for real’, reliable and honest. It is from God, and is the exact opposite of false. ‘Noble’ refers to what is dignified and worthy of respect. ‘Right’ is whatever is upright and just, whatever conforms to God’s moral standards and which he would approve of. ‘Pure’ is whatever is morally wholesome, without any taint of impurity or moral alloy about it. ‘Lovely’ speaks of what is pleasing and attractive. ‘Admirable’ or ‘of good report’ denotes those things that are appealing and worth the words and breath we expend.

“If anything is excellent or praiseworthy, think about such things.” Oh dear, we are very far from taking this seriously. Yet Paul clearly tells the Philippians that as Christians, they have the ability to discern what is excellent or praiseworthy, and what is not. It is up to us what and how we think, and it is up to us whether our actions and lives live up to the Word of God and the character of God, whom we are to faithfully reflect.

If our lives are filled with peacelessness and conflict, we must return to such passages and consider ourselves in the light of what they say. Right thinking leads to right action. Right action results in God’s peace, his shalom that really means well-being and health and renewing freshness. Wrongful thoughts and acts lead to conflict and bitterness and peacelessness. “But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable” (James 3:17).

I think we need a realignment of our perspective with Scripture. God’s wisdom is, in fact, pure, meaning it has no ugly alloy about it. It has no hidden dark spot or muddiness that raises questions as to motive and agenda. It speaks truly and candidly, and always with the intention of love behind it. It is all light and sheds truth and realisation on a situation that makes things clearer to all–and not less clear. James agrees with Paul, in that God’s ways and character bring about peace: his wisdom results in peace, and is peaceable. With God, conflict and quarrelsomeness have no part.

These Philippians had learned and received, heard and seen, Paul’s words and behaviour enough to understand how centering on God’s thoughts and ways brought about the peace that should be evident in Christian living. His experience ought to be their experience. He was straighter than straight, and honest as honest comes. Did lesser types laugh at him and think him naive? Doubtless. But then, you see, they wouldn’t have had the peace of God, would they?

Paul knew how to live the normal Christian life. That is the only life we are called to live. It’s time to let Scripture edge its way into our heart’s core. Whether it burns dross away or enhances the gold that is already within us, let it do its work so that “the God of peace will be with [us].”

I know this rhyme is about politics, but it fits us so well today that I have to quote it:

There was a crooked man and he
walked a crooked mile,
He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked
stile.
He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse.
And they all
lived together in a little crooked house