The weepy person in the prayer group.

Decades ago, in my previous church, I led the prayer group a few months. At that time we got a new regular attendee, who’d come pray with us every Wednesday. And every time she prayed, sang, or otherwise interacted with God, she cried.

A lot.

We’re not talking misty eyes, or a few tears rolling down her face. Lots of Christians pray with our eyes closed, and you’ll naturally get tears when you squeeze ’em tight—but nope, this wasn’t that either. We’re talking full-on snotty blubbering. Like her child just died.

That first prayer meeting she attended, the women of our prayer meeting gathered round her, hugged her, prayed for God to comfort her, asked God to help whatever had her so sorrowful, and asked whether there was anything they could do. Took ’em the rest of the prayer meeting. And then some! I had to stick around afterward as they tried to minister to her, ’cause I had to lock the building. I didn’t get home till 10PM.

The next week: Same deal. We came to pray, and so did she. Next thing you know, she’s bawling and moaning, and the women are trying to comfort her again, and we again went overtime doing so.

The third week: One woman went over to pray with and comfort her. The rest were telling me, “Oh, she has some serious emotional issues. She needs therapy, not prayer.”

Fourth week, all the women just let her go off in a corner of the chapel to wail.

Some of you who are reading this, think this sounds just awful of us. Hey, if I were a newbie Christian, I’d think the very same thing. She’s coming to us for help, and we’re pushing her aside? Bad Christians!

Except we didn’t push her aside. We tried to help. The women who realized she needed therapy, tried to get her therapy. Found her a therapist who’d see her. Tried to line up an appointment. (Money wasn’t an issue; our church had the resources.) But the weepy person was having none of that. So the women were done—like exhausted parents who give up on trying to get their infant to sleep in her own bed, and just leave the baby in the room to cry it out. They realized they weren’t actually helping; that she didn’t want actual help. So they stopped.

A psychologist friend explained it best: You know how some people feel much better after having a good cry? That’s largely what this woman was doing.

Here’s what’s wrong with her behavior. What also made her feel much better, was having a crowd of Christians console her. And it’s not our job to do that! In fact it’s emotionally draining when we try to do that. None of the women who prayed over her, felt better about things after Wednesday was done; they worried about her all week long. Betcha she didn’t worry about them any. She just came back to get their comfort again, and again… until they realized she’s basically an emotional vampire, and decided they were done being drained.

It’s not our job to console such people; it’s God’s. He has infinite energy for that. He can actually touch us where we need healing.

I’ve seen this phenomenon a number of times since. No, such people don’t necessarily need therapy and medication. But what they’re doing is wholly inappropriate. We’re supposed to take our lamentation to God, and the Holy Spirit is supposed to do the comforting. Instead they take their emotions to us, and drain us like emotional leeches. Humans aren’t equipped to do this! We either cry along, and get just as ruined; or we clamp up and step away in self-defense… and get accused of being cold, unsympathetic, and compassionless.

Too busy to pray?

Whenever I talk to people about prayer, and they confess they don’t pray, or don’t pray as often as they oughta, I have never yet heard one of them use the excuse “I’m too busy.” I have heard of people using that excuse—it’s why I bring it up today—but people have never used that excuse on me. More often they tell me, “It’s not a regular habit,” for they’ve not made it one. Or “I struggle to find things to pray about,” which is fair; they’ve made the common mistake of believing their prayers must be long, and consist of 15 minutes of prayer requests—and nevermind how short the Lord’s Prayer is.

I suspect that’s most of the reason people would claim they’re too busy to pray: They likewise think their prayers need to be padded into feature-length size. They think they don’t need a prayer minute; they need a prayer hour. Jesus used to pray to his Father for hours, Mt 14.23 so they figure we should at least be able to spare him an hour of our undivided attention.They need to get into their prayer closet, spend it sitting or kneeling or bowing on their prayer rug, with the candles and mood music and Jesus ikons, and bible opened up to an appropriate prayer passage.

But they don’t have time for that prayer hour. So they’ll get to it when they have a spare hour. And if you have work and kids—and probably read, or watch TV shows or sports, or play video games, which is where many of our “spare hours” usually go when we find some—good luck even finding a spare hour. Heck, once you find it, and get to praying, I betcha you’re gonna fall asleep in the middle of meditating.

Anyway let me back up and remind you prayer doesn’t have to take an hour. How long does it take to pray the Lord’s Prayer? Less than a minute? And can you pray the Lord’s prayer in the middle of doing something else?—obviously you can. So nobody’s too busy to pray.

That hour of undivided attention? That’s for advanced Christians. If you struggle to pray at all, you ain’t advanced! Stop running marathons when you can’t even make it round a track. Get in the habit of regular short prayers. Then—and only if the Holy Spirit tells you there’s an actual need for you to do this—start scheduling yourself longer prayer times. Meanwhile stick to the basics, and master them first.

How many times have you seen people in the grocery store, talking on their phones while they’re shopping? I see it every time I’m in the store. Are they giving their undivided attention to the people they’re talking to? Nope. Do the people they’re talking to, know this? Usually! Do they care? Most really don’t. Does God care if our attention is divided—if we’re praying to him while we’re shopping? Nope! If he does care—if you really should drop everything else, and do nothing but talk to him—the Holy Spirit will tell you so. But typically it’s not an issue at all.

So again: Stop fretting about your designated hours of prayer, and talk to God! Pray basic prayers. Anyone can do basic prayers. You included. Thank God for your meals. Thank God for your latest cup of coffee. Thank him when you get a green light or a parking spot. Especially thank him when you dodge a traffic accident.

If people pop into your mind and you think, “I oughta pray for them,” do that right now. You don’t need to pad your prayer till you’ve implored God on their behalf for 15 minutes; take however long it takes to let him know what you want, and how you’re feeling about it, which again might be less than a minute. If something interrupts your prayer, come back to it later.

Nobody’s too busy to pray. You included.

“I don’t know what to pray.”

Every once in a while I’ll hear this from new Christians: “I know I’m supposed to pray, but I don’t know what to pray. I don’t know what to tell God.”

Ridiculously simple answer to this one! Pray the Lord’s Prayer. Memorize a good translation of it, and tell it to God.

Matthew 6.9-13 MEV

9“Therefore pray in this manner:

Our Father who is in heaven,

hallowed be Your name.

10Your kingdom come;

Your will be done

on earth, as it is in heaven.

11Give us this day our daily bread.

12And forgive us our debts,

as we forgive our debtors.

13And lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.”

And if reciting this prayer leads you to riff on it—to think, “Oh, here are some specific examples of ‘daily bread’ I’m gonna need”—share that. Or “I wanna apologize for specific ‘debts’ I owe God”—talk about that. Or “I need help forgiving my debtors”—ask for that. The Lord’s Prayer is just a starting point, and if it inspires you to pray other stuff, good!—you’re doing it right.

Okay yeah, sometimes it’s not gonna inspire you to pray other stuff. You’ll whip through these words, and you won’t know what more to tell God. Relax; it happens. Prayer’s a new and tricky thing for you. It’s why the Didache recommended newbies pray the Lord’s Prayer thrice a day. [8.3] ’Cause the more often you recite it—the more comfortable you get with these words—the easier it gets to start thinking about what more you might wanna tell God.

The prayers of repentant sinners.

Far too often I hear Christians claim God doesn’t answer the prayers of sinners.

I’ve read loads of books on prayer, and I find this is a recurring theme in just about all of them. For some of the writers, it’s their favorite theme: “The reason people don’t get their prayers answered, no matter how much they pray, is they won’t stop sinning. You gotta stop sinning!”

For proof, they quote verses like this one:

Isaiah 59.1-2 CSB

1Indeed, the LORD’s arm is not too weak to save,

and his ear is not too deaf to hear.

2But your iniquities are separating you

from your God,

and your sins have hidden his face from you

so that he does not listen.

Or this one:

Proverbs 15.29 CSB

The LORD is far from the wicked,

but he hears the prayer of the righteous.

Or this one:

Micah 3.4 CSB

“Then they will cry out to the LORD,

but he will not answer them.

He will hide his face from them at that time

because of the crimes they have committed.

Or this one:

John 9.32 CSB

“We know that God doesn’t listen to sinners, but if anyone is God-fearing and does his will, he listens to him.”

There are loads more, and I can easily go on, but you get the gist. It’s not at all hard to find bible passages which straight-up say God refuses to heed the prayers of evildoers.

There is, however, a vital element to all these scriptures which authors and preachers routinely skip. Some of ’em do in fact point it out. More often they just don’t. It’s the fact that when the writers of the bible say God won’t listen to sinners, they always mean unrepentant sinners. People who sin, expect to sin again, and never intend to stop.

Not people who sometimes sin, but strive to sin no more. You know, repentant sinners. Like every saint in the bible. Like you—I hope!

Praying before bed.

When I was a kid, Mom would have us say our prayers before bed. We’d get in bed, the lights would go off, and we’d pray something along the lines of, “Dear LORD, please bless Mom and Dad and [big list of every family member and friend we could think of] in Jesus name amen.”

She didn’t have to make us do this; we wanted to. In fact we’d get really upset if we didn’t get to—and sometimes we didn’t get to. Mom would be busy, or Dad would require her attention and he’d tell us, “Just go to bed,” and since we were little kids we’d cry about it, and Dad would yell, “GO TO BED DAMMIT,” and we’d flee before he’d blaspheme further, or get out the paddle. But still cry.

As we got older we were kinda expected to do bedtime prayers on our own… and I got out of the habit. Mostly because my prayers weren’t short and simple anymore, and I kept falling asleep on God, and felt guilty about that. Even though there’s nothing wrong with falling asleep when you’re praying. Like Pope Francis used to point out, fathers love it when their children fall asleep on their lap; it’s the same deal with God. Besides, if it’s something we actually need to tell him, we’ll bring it up to him later.

But really, because of that irrational guilt about regularly falling asleep on God, I stopped praying before bed. I pray after I wake up.

Whenever I tell people this, I regularly hear, “Oh, you should really pray before bed. Otherwise you’ll have bad dreams.” Okay, maybe you’ll have bad dreams; I rarely do. If you think God will smite you with bad dreams because you don’t pray, or think evil spirits will invade your dreams because you didn’t ask God to put any hedge of protection around your sleep, do you have an unhealthy understanding of God. Honestly, if you’re having regular bad dreams, that’s a mental health problem. You need to talk to a therapist, not try to pray the problem away.

Other times, Christians will get super legalistic with me about bedtime prayer—as if we have to do it. Gotta pray when we wake up; gotta pray before bed; gotta say grace before meals; have to, or we’re bad Christians. That’s likewise an unhealthy understanding of God. Of course we Christians need to talk to our Father on a regular basis, but mandatory prayer times are our idea, not God’s. If I don’t pray before bed, even if it were my usual practice, I’m not in trouble with God!—and he’s not gonna smite me for missing prayer time. Nor is he gonna smite me for skipping grace, skipping my morning prayers, nor skipping all my usual prayers. I’ll feel weird about it—and that’s all.

So nope, you don’t have to pray before bed. But I will say if prayer calms you down—as it should, ’cause you’re thinking about God instead of your usual worries—it can be a healthy way to wind yourself down before bedtime. So can meditation and worship and other positive God-things we do. When we’re doing ’em right, they naturally drive out negativity.

Te Deum.

Te Deum teɪ 'deɪ.əm is a rote prayer. Really it’s a hymn which dates back to the late 300s. It’s named for its first words, Te Deum laudamus/“To God we praise.” Traditions say it was written by St. Ambrose when he baptized St. Augustine. Or St. Hiliary or St. Nicetas of Remesiana wrote it. Meh; who cares how we got it. It’s been a popular prayer for the past 17 centuries, and has been set to music many times in many ways.

The Presbyterian Church’s Book of Common Worship translates it like so.

We praise you, O God,

we acclaim you as Lord,

all creation worships you,

Father everlasting.

To you, all angels, all the powers of heaven,

the cherubim and seraphim, sing in endless praise:

Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might,

heaven and earth are full of your glory.

The glorious company of apostles praise you.

The noble fellowship of prophets praise you.

The white-robed army of martyrs praise you.

Throughout the world the holy church acclaims you;

Father, of majesty unbounded,

your true and only Son, worthy of all praise,

the Holy Spirit, advocate and guide.

You, Christ, are the king of glory,

the eternal Son of the Father.

When you took our flesh to set us free

you humbly chose the Virgin’s womb.

You overcame the sting of death

and opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers.

You are seated at God’s right hand in glory.

We believe that you will come, and be our judge.

Come then, Lord, and help your people,

bought with the price of your own blood,

and bring us with your saints

to glory everlasting. BCW 570-571

Praying for the next pope.

Pope Francis, the head of the Roman Catholic Church, died Easter Monday. You probably knew this already; his funeral and interment has been all over the news.

Likewise the church’s process of picking his successor: All the cardinals under the age of 80 have to go to Vatican City for the conclave, the process where they’re locked in the Sistine Chapel, and vote for a Catholic man—any Catholic man; he doesn’t have to be a cardinal—to be the new pope. They keep voting till one of their candidates gets a majority. Used ballots get thrown in a stove and burned; they add a little something to the fire to make the smoke white or black. Black means they’re still voting; white means they’ve picked a guy. If he accepts the job, he’s the new pope; if he doesn’t, back to voting.

Catholics are of course praying the cardinals pick a good guy. Praying the Holy Spirit lead the cardinals to pick a good guy. (Praying the cardinals even listen to the Holy Spirit. True, men are made cardinals for all sorts of reasons; some of those reasons have admittedly been political. But hopefully all were chosen because they’re good examples of following Jesus.)

And, as I’ve pointed out to some of my fellow non-Catholics, we should be praying the cardinals pick a good guy.

I get various responses to that:

• “Already am!”
• “…Oh! Yeah, I should be praying the cardinals pick a good guy.”
• “…What? Why should I pray for that? I’m not Catholic.”
• “What?” [followed by scoffing] “Who cares who they pick.”

You can obviously tell which of the responses are the anti-Catholic ones.

God is not too busy for your prayers.

Honestly, I’ve never heard anyone state, “But God’s too busy to listen” as the reason they don’t pray. They might feel it, or secretly deep down believe it… but they don’t say this.

Because while they may not know squat about God, they are fully he’s almighty. Even pagans describe him as almighty. He has the power to effortlessly handle the volume of eight billion prayers a minute; basic divine almightiness includes the ability to juggle infinite conversations. They know that at least.

They might’ve seen the movie Bruce Almighty, in which God (played by Morgan Freeman) grants Bruce Nolan (played by Jim Carrey) his powers. Bruce also has to hear all the prayers God does, and he can’t handle the volume. (God later explains he’s aware Bruce can’t handle the prayers of the whole planet, so he just limited Bruce to his hometown. That’s still a lot—and Bruce can’t handle that either.) So they might suspect God can’t give each individual prayer the attention we’d like him to. But they still know God, as popularly described by both Christians and non-Christians, can so give each individual prayer his attention. ’Cause they know Bruce isn’t God… and for that matter neither is Morgan Freeman.

So yeah, this “God’s too busy” line is one people already know isn’t true. May struggle to believe it, but know it’s not true. May have to be reminded of the fact it’s not true, just a little… but only a little. Well here ya go: Your little reminder.

In my experience, whenever people say God’s not listening, they never say it’s because God can’t handle the prayer traffic. Instead they presume he’s not listening for other reasons. Usually a petty or silly one, like “I prayed wrong” or “I’m not worthy”—as if God only answers the prayers of the deserving, and that’s not them.

Because even little pagan kids know God’s not too busy to hear their prayers. Their ideas about God may have entirely come from popular culture, but pop culture nonetheless conveys the idea God hears all. Kinda like Santa Claus! Santa sees you when you’re sleeping, knows when you’re awake, knows if you’ve been bad or good… yet for some reason doesn’t know what you want for Christmas till you go to the shopping mall and tell him, but little kids never really think about that particular inconsistency. Anyway God’s at least as omniscient as Santa, and isn’t too busy to hear everything you’ve told him.

So it’s probably an utter waste of time for me to write an article about why God’s not too busy for our prayers: People already know otherwise! But I’m not gonna rule out the possibility, however small, that there’s some doubting Christian out there who somehow got the idea God’s just too busy for them.

The National Day of Prayer.

In the United States, it’s the National Day of Prayer, held the first Thursday of May.

Various articles are gonna say the National Day of Prayer began in 1952. It didn’t really. Congress and various presidents have called for national days of prayer, starting with the first Continental Congress in 1775. They just haven’t been consistent. Ten presidents never bothered to call for any such days.

What did happen in 1952, was Billy Graham held a rally on the steps of the Capitol, which spurred Congress to unanimously pass Public Law 82-324, signed into law by Harry Truman. It says,

Resolved by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled, That the President shall set aside and proclaim a suitable day each year, other than a Sunday, as a National Day of Prayer, on which the people of the United States may turn to God in prayer and meditation at churches, in groups, and as individuals.

Truman scheduled the first National Day of Prayer for 4 July 1952, and next year Dwight Eisenhower scheduled it for the same day, 4 July 1953. Then it started moving round the calendar. Mostly it happened Wednesdays in late October. In 1972 there were two.

PRESIDENT	DATES
Harry Truman	4 July 1952
Dwight Eisenhower	4 July 1953 26 October 1955 2 October 1957 7 October 1959	22 September 1954 12 September 1956 2 October 1958 5 October 1960
John Kennedy	4 October 1961 16 October 1963	17 October 1962
Lyndon Johnson	21 October 1964 19 October 1966 16 October 1968	20 October 1965 18 October 1967
Richard Nixon	22 October 1969 20 October 1971 18 October 1972	21 October 1970 16 February 1972 17 October 1973
Gerald Ford	18 December 1974 14 May 1976	24 July 1975
Jimmy Carter	15 December 1977 3 October 1979	7 October 1978 6 October 1980
Ronald Reagan	19 March 1981 5 May 1983 2 May 1985 7 May 1987	6 May 1982 3 May 1984 1 May 1986 5 May 1988

In 1988, Public Law 100-307 fixed it to the first Thursday in May, and that’s what it’s been ever since. (In fact, as I was looking up the dates for the previous National Days of Prayer, my search engine kept insisting it took place the first Thursday of May of that year. Nope. Bad search engine.)

Largely the National Days of Prayer were left up to the presidents until the 1980s. In 1974 the International Congress on World Evangelization was held in Lausanne, Switzerland, and on their return to the States, the American delegation decided to create Mission America to enact some of the plans they’d made in Lausanne. Part of Mission America was the National Prayer Committee, founded in 1979 and headed by Vonette Bright, one of the founders of Campus Crusade for Christ International (now Cru). They met in Washington D.C., started coordinating with the White House about National Day of Prayer events, and held their first joint event in 1983 in Constitution Hall.

What does the event look like? Well, y’know: Speeches from politicians and clergy. Prayers. Sometimes presidents let the National Day of Prayer Task Force take the lead; sometimes not. Sometimes they’re good reminders about the importance of talking with God; sometimes they’re a bunch of platitudes which say little. Some politicians have no prayer life at all, and it shows when they talk about it. (Disturbingly, some clergy members are the very same way.)

But what does this National Day of Prayer thing do? Well, it’s a reminder to pray for our homeland, which is something we oughta be doing regularly. A reminder to pray for our leaders; something we oughta also be doing.

And for Christian nationalists, it’s a not-subtle-at-all way to remind people of the political strength of Christian voters. We are legion, and we vote, so get in line. But I’m not gonna discuss the nationalists today; their godless motives aren’t about prayer anyway.

Meditation on the mystery of Christ’s suffering.

First time I heard somebody talk about meditating on divine mysteries, I didn’t understand what she was talking about. “She” was a Roman Catholic who was encouraging her fellow Catholics to do that, and I was a Protestant kid who was raised to believe Catholics were heretic. I don’t believe that anymore, but at the time, I wasn’t inclined to give my Catholic sisters and brothers the benefit of the doubt: I was pretty sure she was talking about some weird spiritual practice that’d lead people astray.

Some of the problem—other than my anti-Catholic bias—is the fact the Protestants I worshiped with, didn’t understand what meditation is. They thought all meditation was the eastern type, practiced by Hindus, Buddhists, Transcendental Meditation, and various pagan religions: You clear your mind as much as possible and think about nothing. Whereas meditation in the scriptures is all about thinking about God, and turning over in our minds the stuff he reveals to us. Usually stuff from the scriptures. And if that’s how you define meditation—and it’s supposed to be how we Christians define meditation—then my fellow Protestants did that a whole bunch; we just didn’t know to call it meditation. We let eastern pagans swipe the term right out from under us.

The other part of the problem is most Protestants didn’t know what mysteries are. To be fair, Catholics use the term way more often than Protestants do. That’s why when Protestants say “mystery,” we think it’s something we don’t know. “Contemplating mysteries” sounds to us like we’re thinking about all the things we don’t know. Contemplating divine mysteries sounds like we’re thinking about all the things about God which we don’t know—and that’s a lot, ’cause he’s an infinite God, and we got finite brains, so there’s an infinite gap between what we know and who God is.

I’ve heard more than one ignorant Protestant actually rebuke the Orthodox and Catholic for thinking about divine mysteries: “Why are they wasting their time meditating about what we don’t know about God? Shouldn’t we think about what we do know?” Yeah, this statement sounds all the more ignorant once you do know what mysteries are.

In the scriptures, mystery refers to something we previously didn’t know—but thanks to Jesus, now we know do. Biblical mysteries are mysteries solved. Mysteries revealed. Nobody who meditates on mysteries is thinking about anything they don’t know; they’re thinking—properly and appropriately!—about the stuff God revealed to us. Again, usually stuff from the scriptures.

But this wrong definition of what mystery means, still kinda permeates Protestant thinking. Look up “sacred mysteries” on the internet and you’ll find plenty of Protestants—and even some Catholics!—claiming mysteries are “profound truths which are beyond human understanding.” Yeah, they used to be beyond human understanding. Not anymore! Jesus revealed ’em. He figures we’re ready to know about them. So we can get to know them. And that is what meditating on them is all about. It’s not some weird intellectual exercise where we’re looking into the void and hoping this somehow makes us deeper people; it’s getting to know God.

“Fasting” from one thing at a time.

Custom during the Lenten season, because it’s a time to reflect on Jesus’s death and self-sacrifice, is the Lenten fast, between Ash Wednesday and Easter. (And take Sundays off. Not everybody remembers Sundays are feast days, and we’re not meant to fast on feast days.) But it’s not a total 40-day fast; many who practice Lent simply go without meat and alcohol… plus one other thing.

And for many, if not most, they only go without the one other thing. Hence all the discussions before Ash Wednesday of “What’re you giving up for Lent?” Then, during the Lenten season, “How’re you doing?”—a question which typically dies off after the people who usually ask this question, fail in their own fasts.

Lent isn’t the only time Christians “fast” from only one thing. I’ve done it. My church would call for a weeklong fast, or a 14-day fast, or a 21-day fast, and I really didn’t feel like starving myself just because Pastor had a spiritual bug up his heiney. (And as you can tell, my own attitude at the time sucked.) So like many a Christian, I did the laziest bare minimum: I gave up only one thing. Something inconvenient, yet kinda easy. Like coffee. Now, if you know how much coffee I consume, you might think this was an act of heroic self-control on my part… but nah, it’s really not. I’m not addicted to caffeine. (I drink it for the flavor, and switch to decaf after lunch.) Giving up caffeine was just as easy.

As was sugar—which was something I actually stuck with after the fast was over. But giving up bagels was unexpectedly hard; guess I’m more addicted to them than I realized. Meh; enough about me.

I’ve been asked whether giving up only one thing as a “fast” actually counts as a fast. It can. Two thoughts though.

First of all I gotta ask them whether they’re honestly fasting for the right reasons. You do realize God never obligates us to fast. Yes, there are those numbnuts who insist he absolutely did call for a fast in Isaiah 58.6, but obviously they never read the context: The LORD’s using fasting as a metaphor for justice and freedom. Has nothing to do with going hungry for God, nor giving up a particular item.

So we’re not disobeying God when we skip a fast, break a fast, “cheat” on a fast, or diet instead of fasting. True, our churches might want us to fast, and legalistic churches will certainly require it. But unless you swore to God you’d fast along with ’em, you’re not sinning if you don’t fast. (And of course lying about it, or pretending you’re fasting when you’re not, is always wrong.)

Likewise I don’t want people to think the purpose of fasting is to earn karmic points with God. God never “owes us one” for fasting, nor anything we do. Worship and obedience is our duty, Lk 17.10 not a favor we do for him that’s gonna earn us jewels in our heavenly crowns. What, did you not get enough participation trophies in youth soccer?

Fasting is simply a practice which Christians have found helps us focus better on God in prayer, and helps us develop self-control. That’s the only reason we do it. If anyone tells you there are other spiritual abilities, benefits, or rewards for fasting, I advise you to be wary. Too many of ’em are trying to get you to follow them more so than God.

Second I don’t assume Christians are lazy when they want a bare-minimum “fast.” Yeah, sometimes it’s totally that; been there done that myself. But more often it’s because fasting is hardcore. And admittedly, we’re weak. Going without food for a whole day? We’ll crack by 10AM! We’ll walk into the break room, someone will have brought doughnuts, and we’ll hold out maybe an hour. But knowing ourselves, less. A warm Krispy Kreme doughnut is a powerful thing.

I don’t say this to condemn weak Christians. Every last one of us was a weak Christian at one point. (Me, many points.) So if you’re still weak, I’m here to help, not judge or mock. You gotta build self-control. Fasting is the fastest way to do it, but it’s wise to start small and work your way up. Y’don’t just tackle the very hardest practices, and presume you’ll be a natural ’cause now you have Holy Spirit power. Fast small before you fast big.

So, the very least we can fast… is that one single thing.

And this is a very common Christian practice. Some Christians do it every Lent. I’m not saying you need to observe Lent. Start even smaller. Abstain for a week. See how you do. If you fail—and you may—try again.

The serenity prayer.

One of the more popular rote prayers is “the serenity prayer.” It’s prayed by Christians and pagans alike, ’cause it’s the official prayer of Alcoholics Anonymous. Other 12-step programs use it as well.

God grant me the serenity

to accept the things I cannot change,

courage to change the things I can,

and the wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time,

enjoying one moment at a time,

accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,

taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world

as it is, not as I would have it,

trusting that you will make all things right

if I surrender to your will,

so that I may be reasonably happy in this life,

and supremely happy with you forever in the next.

Amen.

Credit for the prayer is usually given to American theologian and philosopher Dr. Reinhold Niebuhr (1892–1971), although the original version looks a bit different. Its first publication was in the March 1933 edition of The Woman’s Press, in Winnifred Crane Wygal’s article “On the Edge of Tomorrow.”

Oh, God, give us courage to change what must be altered, serenity to accept what cannot be helped, and insight to know the one from the other.

Wygal was a grad student at Union Theological Seminary, Neibuhr’s school. In her 1940 book We Plan Our Own Worship Services, she indicated she got the prayer from him. Neibuhr’s daughter Elisabeth Sifton claimed her father wrote it for a Sunday service in 1943. As you notice, she was a bit off on the date—which caused some confusion, and controversy, when Yale Law School librarian Fred R. Shapiro stated in a 2008 New York Times article he’d found the prayer published eight times before 1943. At the time, he questioned whether Niebuhr even authored it. He doesn’t now.

Alcoholics Anonymous founder William Griffith Wilson (a.k.a. “Bill W.”) came across the prayer in early 1942. A member of his New York group found it in a New York Herald Tribune obituary and shared it. The group immediately adopted it, and included a copy of it in every outgoing letter.

Niebuhr admitted the idea behind the prayer had been “spooking around” for centuries. You can even find it expressed in Cicero’s Six Mistakes of Man: “The tendency to worry about things that cannot be changed or corrected.”

St. Patrick’s Breastplate.

Yesterday was St. Patrick’s Day, so I posted his Confession. The other thing he’s known for writing—and okay, he may not have written it at all, but it’s had his name on it for centuries—is called St. Patrick’s Breastplate. It’s sometimes called his Lorica; that’s just Latin for breastplate.

It’s not a literal breastplate. It’s a hymn, which tends to be recited as a rote prayer. Sometimes people set it to music though. It was written in Old Irish, and English translations vary. Here’s one of them.

I arise today through a mighty strength,

the invocation of the trinity,

through belief in the threeness,

through confession of the oneness

of the Creator of creation.

I arise today through the strength of Christ with his baptism,

through the strength of his crucifixion with his burial,

through the strength of his resurrection with his ascension,

through the strength of his descent for the judgment of doom.

I arise today through the strength of the love of cherubim

in obedience of angels,

in the service of the archangels,

in hope of resurrection to meet with reward,

in prayers of patriarchs,

in predictions of prophets,

in preaching of apostles,

in faiths of confessors,

in innocence of holy virgins,

in deeds of righteous men.

I arise today through the strength of heaven—

light of sun, brilliance of moon,

splendor of fire, speed of lightning,

swiftness of wind, depth of sea,

stability of earth, firmness of rock.

I arise today through God’s strength to pilot me—

God’s might to uphold me, God’s wisdom to guide me,

God’s eye to look before me, God’s ear to hear me,

God’s word to speak for me, God’s hand to guard me,

God’s way to lie before me, God’s shield to protect me,

God’s host to secure me:

against snares of demons,

against temptations of vices,

against inclinations of nature,

against everyone who shall wish me ill,

afar and anear, alone and in multitude.

I summon today all these powers between me and these evils—

against every cruel and merciless power

that may oppose my body and my soul,

against incantations of false prophets,

against black laws of heathenry,

against false laws of heretics,

against craft of idolatry,

against spells of witches and smiths and wizards,

against every knowledge that endangers man’s body and soul.

Christ to protect me today

against poison, against burning,

against drowning, against wounding,

so that there may come abundance of reward.

Christ with me.

Christ before me, Christ behind me.

Christ in me.

Christ beneath me, Christ above me.

Christ on my right, Christ on my left.

Christ in breadth, Christ in length, Christ in height.

Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me.

Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me.

Christ in every eye that sees me.

Christ in every ear that hears me.

I arise today through a mighty strength,

the invocation of the trinity,

through belief in the threeness,

through confession of the oneness

of the Creator of creation.

Salvation is of the Lord. Salvation is of the Lord. Salvation is of Christ.

May your salvation, oh Lord, be ever with us.

Other translations swap “I bind unto myself” for “I arise today,” so maybe that’s the version you’ve heard before.

Using your imagination to meditate.

When I was a kid there was a Japanese TV show called Aníme Óyako Gekíjo/“Anime Parent-Child Theater,” which Americans know better as Superbook. Christian TV stations used to air it every weekday. Your own kids are more likely to have seen the 2009 American remake.

In the 1981 original, two kids named Sho and Azusa discovered a magic bible which transported them, and their toy robot Zenmaijikake, back to Old Testament times. (Yeah, they all had different names in the English redub: Chris, Joy, and Gizmo.) The kids would interact with the bible folks, who somehow spoke Japanese instead of ancient Hebrew, and were surprisingly white for ancient middle easterners.

The kids, and their robot in the red galero, have a not-at-all-awkward conversation with a buck-naked pre-genitalia Adam and Eve. Aníme Óyako Gekíjo episode 1, “Adamu to Eba Monogatari”

Well in the first series they did. In the second series—also called Superbook in the States—Pasókon Toráberu Tántei-dan/“Computer Travel Detective Team,” the kids totally ignored the bible characters ’cause they were trying to rescue a missing dog. Which is best, I suppose: Less chance they’d accidentally change history, and whoops!—now we’re all worshiping Mammon, and Biff Tannen became president. (Well…)

Obviously we’ve not yet invented time travel, and it’s not possible to have any Superbook-style adventures. But a whole lot of us would love to check out the events of bible times, and maybe interact with it. It’s why there are bible-times theme parks in the Bible Belt, like The Ark Encounter or The Holy Land Experience, which Christians flock to. (Or, for about the same price, actual real-life Israel, which I far more recommend.)

But when time travel or pilgrimage are out of the question right now, it is possible to meditate on a story from the scriptures, by imagining ourselves there as it happened, imagining ourselves watching it as it took place.

Some Christians call this practice Ignatian meditation, after St. Ignatius Loyola, founder of the Jesuits. In his 1524 book Exercitia Spiritualia/“Spiritual Exercises,” Ignatius taught his followers to not just contemplate certain passages in the bible, like Jesus preaching in synagogue or temple, or teaching students, performing miracles, getting born, getting crucified, paradise, hell…. Instead, really mentally put themselves there. Imagine breathing the air. Feeling the weather. Hearing the sounds, smelling the smells. Being in these places.

The idea is to stop thinking of these events as just stories, but as real-life history. Stuff that truly happened. Stuff the prophets and apostles truly experienced. Stuff where God came near and interacted with humanity—same as he does now. Stop looking at them from the outside, and visualize yourself in the inside, in the bible, fully immersed in the story, just as you’re fully a part of God’s salvation history now.

Try this with the passages you’re reading now. Put yourself there, in your mind. See what new insights come out of it.

Unanswered prayers.

Some months ago I was talking with a fellow Christian about unanswered prayers, and he said, “Y’know, there’s really no such thing as unanswered prayer. God answers every prayer. It’s just sometimes his answer is no. But that’s an answer!”

Okay, it’s true our “unanswered prayers” might be things God has legitimately answered—with no, or “not yet.” Stuff like “Come Lord Jesus” which he will answer, eventually.

But sometimes he legitimately has not answered certain prayers. ’Cause sometimes he says he’s not gonna answer them.

Micah 3.4 ESV

Then they will cry to the LORD,

but he will not answer them;

he will hide his face from them at that time,

because they have made their deeds evil.

Generally if you’re an unrepentant evildoer—if you’re sinning, you know you’re sinning, you know Jesus would have you do otherwise, you don’t care and aren’t sorry, you fully intend to continue sinning, and nothing God says or does will move you—I don’t think it’s realistic to expect God to heed you.

It’s like when Jesus warns us,

Matthew 6.14-15 ESV

14“For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, 15but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”

Jesus orders his followers to forgive, Lk 6.37 and Paul and Timothy advise us to forgive just as we ourselves have been forgiven. Cl 3.13 If we refuse to forgive, we’re defying Jesus—and if we defy Jesus, again, I don’t think it’s realistic to expect God to heed us. Especially if we’re asking his forgiveness.

I know, I know; I hear all the time from Christians who think God has to forgive every nasty thing they do, ’cause cheap grace. They wanna know how I can say God won’t forgive us, ’cause doesn’t grace mean he forgives absolutely everything? And yes, grace does mean that. But when you’re defying God and his Messiah, when you’re resisting his will, you’re also resisting his grace. You can’t get the grace when you reject the one who gives it!

It’s the same deal with unrepentant evildoers. If you reject the one who answers our prayers, why on earth or in heaven should we expect him to listen to our prayers? Makes no sense. But since when have humans ever made sense?—which is why unrepentant evildoers try to pray, get no answer, and think God’s the one at fault. Or that he’s not even there. Or other such nonsense.

“Can I pray for you?”

Whenever you aren’t sure, or don’t know, what to do: Yalk to God. Pray.

Not only is this always good advice to follow, but it’s good advice when dealing with other people. Whenever other people share their difficulties with us, we won’t always know how to respond. We’ll be tempted to give advice—as if we know anything. But prayer’s one of the best responses—if not the best, period. It’s turning to God as our first resort.

I know; plenty of people think they know precisely what to do when they hear someone’s troubles. That’s why they immediately offer advice. No, the person sharing their woes didn’t ask for it. Often they just want to vent to someone. But that’s not gonna stop people from inflicting bad advice upon ’em anyway.

Remember Job’s friends? For a week he kept his mouth shut, Jb 2.13 but then he made the mistake of lamenting in front of them, Jb 3 and it opened up the floodgates of bad advice, naive statements, sorry platitudes—you know, the same stuff people still offer as advice, which just goes to show they’ve never read Job. It pissed the LORD off, ’cause nothing they said about him was correct. Jb 42.7 Like I said, shoulda gone to him first.

Me, I try to keep the unsolicited advice to this blog. If you want it, I’ll offer it, with the usual disclaimer that I’m hardly infallible. But really, the best response is, “Can I pray for you?”

And when we offer to pray for them, let’s not do the similar platitudinous “Oh goodness that’s awful; I’ll pray for you.” Mostly because among Christianists, “I’ll pray for you” means one of two things:

• “I’m really offended by what you just said, so you can go to hell. No, wait; I need to sound Christian. ‘I’ll pray for you.’ Yeah, that’s the ticket.”
• “Oh Lord, I don’t care about all your miserable problems. I’ve got my own stuff to deal with. How do I get out of this dreary conversation? ‘I’ll pray for you.’ Good; now I can leave.”

It’s seldom based on sympathy.

Well, don’t be one of those unsympathetic jerks. If you’re offering to pray for people, no time like the present! Stand right there and pray. Doesn’t need to be a long prayer; doesn’t need to be perfect words. Just needs to be you, telling God to help ’em out.

God doesn’t owe us anything for fasting.

I’ve pointed out fasting is a great way to focus our attention on God so we can pray better, hear him better, and develop our self-control.

But no, I don’t guarantee you’ll grow in all these ways when you fast.

All things being equal, you probably will. But as you know, there are lots of ways people can bollix our own growth. If we’re fasting, yet the rest of our lives are just as sinful as ever, why should we expect anything to change whatsoever? And yet Christians do: “I’m fasting! That should count for something.”

The Hebrews did it too, y’know. They’d fast, then make prayer requests ’cause they believed fasting would show the LORD they were serious, and it’d move him a little faster. It’s why Jehoshaphat told Jerusalem to fast so God might rescue them from invaders, 2Ch 20.3 and why Esther asked the Persian Jews to fast before she petitioned the king. Es 4.16 But because God acted on the petitioners’ behalf in these stories, Christians get the idea fasting always makes God move. They’ll claim this is “the biblical principle of fasting”: If you fast, God’ll answer prayer, and give you revelations.

But no it’s not a “biblical principle.” The idea that fasting always makes God move, is based on works righteousness, the idea God we can earn God’s favor through good deeds and acts of devotion. So if we’re good, God supposedly owes us one; if we’re super good God owes us a lot. And supposedly religious acts and rituals can cancel out any evil deeds: If I’m stealing from my workplace’s cash drawer, saying a few hundred Hail Marys oughta work it off, right? What’s the going exchange rate, a buck per hail?

In reality there is no biblical principle of fasting. Because in the bible, the LORD never commanded anyone to fast. Ever. The bible contains no teachings about what fasting does, why it’s important, and how often we oughta do it. The one teaching it does have on fasting is when Jesus tells us to not be hypocrites about it, and do it privately instead of publicly. Mt 6.16-18 The rest of Christianity’s teachings on fasting come from tradition: From fellow Christians’ experiences with fasting, and how it benefited them; and how it personally benefited us when we tried it.

But anyone who claims fasting unlocks God’s promises, and now he owes us stuff: They didn’t get that from bible. They got it from a corrupt Christian tradition, if anything. It’s not so. God owes us nothing. His kingdom runs on grace, not quid pro quo. He grants us grace and prayer requests and revelations because he loves us, not because we racked up enough heavenly frequent flyer miles to get a trip to Belize.

He tends to grant these things to active followers, not because we’re actively following, but because what good would they be in the hands of people who aren’t actively following? Such people will just squander his gifts, and be of little to no help to his kingdom. It’s not merit; it’s pragmatism.

So when we fast, is God obligated to do more for us than usual? Not at all. He tends to, but that’s only because Christians who fast, tend to love Jesus and follow him otherwise.

Prayer for spiritual maturity.

The fastest way to grow in spiritual fruit and spiritual maturity, is prayer.

I know; there are a number of works on fruit and maturity, and all of ’em recommend we grow that stuff by practicing it. You wanna be more loving, love people. You wanna be more gracious, work on your kindness. You wanna develop more self-control, practice self-control; start with small things and work your way up. Learn by doing. And that’s not bad advice, but it only gets us so far. If we wanna get farther, we gotta talk to the Holy Spirit who grants us the power to grow fruit. We gotta pray.

What do we tell the Spirit? The obvious: Grant me good fruit. Remind me to practice good fruit instead of my usual knee-jerk reactions. Show me where the opportunities lie to practice it. Show me where I’m missing those opportunities—places in my life where I should obviously recognize I can be more loving, gentle, peaceful, but for whatever reason I’m overlooking those things. Rebuke me if you gotta; snap me out of it.

Yep, we gotta pray for our own spiritual growth. Because we’re showing the Spirit we’re onboard. We want to grow. (And if we kinda don’t wanna grow—because we’re immature, of course—we need to ask him to change our attitudes about that.)

We can’t just presume the fruit will grow on its own, just because we’re Christian, just because we have the Holy Spirit. It can, but if we never take the initiative, it’ll either grow slowly… or, if we’re resistant to what the Spirit’s trying to do, we’ll stifle it from even growing at all. We gotta do more than simply permit the Spirit to do his thing, or generically tell him, “Lord, have your way in me,” like we sing in popular worship songs. He doesn’t want passive followers anyway. He wants us to tell him, “Lord, let’s do this! Make me more like you.”

And telling him is, of course, prayer. Telling him often, is a good basis for a prayer life. Asking for his help regularly, is a good basis for a life dependent on the Spirit’s leading. If you were ever wondering how certain Christians always seem to have something to pray about, this is how: They’re actually doing the work, and they’re naturally asking for help. Join them!

The Daniel fast.

Every January, the people in my church go on a diet. Most years for three weeks, although individuals might opt to only do this for one. Generally we cut back on the carbohydrates, sugar, meat, and oils; we instead eat lots of fruits and vegetables. Considering all the binging we did between Thanksgiving and Christmas, it makes sense to practice a little more moderation, doesn’t it?

What does this practice have to do with prayer? Well y’see, the people don’t call it a diet. They call it a “Daniel fast.”

It’s an Evangelical practice which has taken off in the past 25 years. It’s loosely based on a few lines from Daniel 10. At the beginning of the year, Daniel went three weeks—that’d be 21 days—depriving himself.

Daniel 10.2-3 KWL

2In those days I, Daniel, went into mourning three weeks.

3I ate none of the bread I coveted.

Meat and wine didn’t enter my mouth.

I didn’t oil my hair for all of three weeks.

So that’s how the Daniel fast works. At the beginning of the year, we likewise go three weeks depriving ourselves. He went without bread, meat, wine, and oil; so do we. True, by ‏ס֣וֹךְ ‏לֹא־‏סָ֑כְתִּי /sokh lo-sakhtí, “I oiled myself no oil,” Daniel was referring to how the ancients cleaned their hair. (Perfumed oil conditions it, and keeps bugs away.) But look at your average Daniel fast diet, and you’ll notice Evangelicals are taking no chances. Nothing fried, no oils, no butter, nothing tasty.

Though the lists aren’t consistent across Christendom. The list below permits quality oils. Including grapeseed… even though Daniel went without wine during his three weeks. Not entirely sure how they came up with their list.

This list permits oils… but no solid fats. ’Cause Daniel denied himself Crisco, y’know. The Daniel Fast

In fact you look at these menus, and you’ve gotta wonder how any of it was extrapolated from Daniel’s experience. I mean, it generally sounds like Daniel was denying himself nice food. And yet there are such things as cookbooks for how to make “Daniel fast” desserts. No I’m not kidding. Cookbooks which say, right on the cover, they’re full of delicious recipes—so even though Daniel kept away from enjoyable food, who says you have to do without?

This is a fast, right?

Prayer and posture.

I neither close my eyes nor bow my head when I pray.

Yep, that’s right. My eyes are wide open. Sometimes I’m looking forward, sometimes upward, and sometimes downward.

• Sometimes I’m reading the prayer I’ve written out. (You can do that, y’know!))
• Sometimes I’m reading a rote prayer.
• Sometimes I’m looking at a list of prayer requests so I can make sure I include them; or I’m journaling the prayer requests as the prayer leader lists them.
• Sometimes I’m looking up relevant scriptures in my bible.
• If I’m praying for someone who’s standing right in front of me, usually I’m looking at them.
• If I’m praying as part of a street-evangelism ministry, or any other kind of ministry on a busy street, I’m watching out for my fellow ministers. You realize how often people get pickpocketed when their eyes are closed for prayer? The pickpockets consider us suckers. We kinda are.
• If I’m working with kids, you know some of ’em take advantage of the times no one’s looking. I sure did! So they catch me looking.

As for that last thing I listed: Sometimes the kids come ask me later, “Why were your eyes open? You know you’re s’posed to close your eyes.”

Says who? Well, some pastors: “Bow your heads with me. Now with every eye closed…” Usually ’cause they want to ask if anyone wants to confess, or come to Jesus, and they wanna give people some privacy… and if that’s the case, I’ll look down so I don’t see anything. When I don’t need to know, I don’t pry. But nope, even then I don’t close my eyes. Don’t need to.

And closing our eyes doesn’t come from the bible anyway. It’s western custom.