“Lord, teach us to pray.” Luke 11:1
We sometimes say we do not need to be taught how to pray. Anybody can pray; it is only talking to God. It does not require the learning of a new language, for all languages are familiar to Him.
Yet, as simple as prayer is, we do need to learn to pray. The disciples had always prayed — but when they saw their Master at prayer, something so impressed them that they felt they never had really prayed. So they asked Him to teach them. And we all need to be taught how to pray. No matter how long we have prayed, we are only beginners.
A little child noticed that her mother slipped away upstairs alone at the same time each day. She was always gentler after she came back; her weary look was gone — her face was shining.
“Where do you go, mother, when you leave us every day?”
“I go upstairs to my room.”
“Why do you go? You always come back with your face shining. What makes it shine so?”
“I go to pray,” replied the mother reverently.
The child was silent, she said softly: “Teach me how to pray, mother.”
There are no more sacred moments in any home than when a child is bending at a mother’s knee, learning to lisp its first little prayer. A mother’s prayers are never forgotten. The boy becomes a man — but in all his years of toil, struggle, temptation, duty and sorrow, he remembers those early lessons.
“When you pray, say ‘Father’.” Luke 11:2 That one word is the key to the whole mystery of prayer. When Jesus taught His disciples to speak to God, calling Him by that blessed name, He gave them the largest of all lessons. When we can look into God’s face and honestly say “Father,” it is easy to pray, for it opens His heart to hear all we say.
But we must also learn to submit all our wishes to God. Of course we cannot know what we ought to pray for — as well as God knows. We think we know what we need; if only we could have that, our bliss would be complete. Yet God may withhold the wish of our heart — and give us the good we need in another way. We pray that a sick friend may be spared; death comes, and we ask why. But if we wanted God’s best for our friend, did He not give it?
Some prayers are answered in strange ways. Here is a little story recently told. A lawyer came to his client and said he could not prosecute a certain claim — a claim which, if pushed, would leave an old couple homeless. The client wanted to know the reason. The lawyer told him of a visit he had made to the house.
He had found the house and knocked — but nobody heard him. He stepped inside, and heard an old woman say, “Come, father — I am all ready.” An old, white-haired man knelt by her bed and began to pray.
The old man reminded God that they were still His submissive children, and that whatever He saw fit to bring upon them, they would accept. It would be hard to be homeless in their old age. How different it would have been if at least one of the boys had been spared! The old man’s voice broke then, and a thin white hand stole from under the coverlet and moved softly through his snowy hair. He went on presently, saying that nothing ever could be so hard again — as the parting with the three boys had been — unless mother and he should be separated. Last of all, he prayed for God’s blessing on those who were demanding justice.
The lawyer said afterward, “I would rather go to the poor-house tonight myself — than to stain my hands and heart with such persecution as that.” The client, uneasy now, twisted the claim papers in his fingers, and at last said, “You can call them in the morning, and tell them that the claim has been met.” God will always find some way to answer His children’s prayers.
Another thing many of us need to learn is to widen our prayers. A pastor said to a man, “While I am absent for a month, do not pray once for yourself or any of your own family.” The man promised — it seemed easy. But when he knelt to pray, he could think of nothing to say. He discovered how selfishly he had been living. It was a hard month — but he learned his lesson. When his pastor returned he could pray for all men, all the world, and for missions.
Some of us find life hard — full of cares and questions, of tasks and duties, of temptations and dangers. If we do not know how to pray, we can never get through the days. But the privilege of prayer is always ours. The gate of prayer is always open! Any moment we can look up and say “Father,” lay our need before the throne of mercy — and God will answer us as He desires!
J. R. Miller (1840-1912) was a pastor and former editorial superintendent of the Presbyterian Board of Publication from 1880 to 1911. His works are now in the public domain. This is an edited version of his original.
