Why I Pray

When my hands have done all that they can do,
and there is still much more to be done...

I have given much thought to prayer lately.  Mostly about why.  Why pray?  Why do I sporadically, instinctively persist in an activity that is so intangible in practice and results?  What I read or hear from others on prayer is often how: the practice of prayer.  But always how is inextricably linked with results.  I may not be the most observant person, but I cannot point to
examples of a given outcome explicitly following a specific prayer of mine.  So, I have discarded the results-orientation of prayer.  When I meet a friend for conversation, the only outcome I hope for is a deepening friendship, that we will know each other better for the time spent together, that we will have been encouraged.

So, I have tried to put prayer into that framework - a desire for a deeper knowing, to be encouraged as I catch glimpses of a Good that is weaving itself into my life and the lives of others in ways that are not always clear to my limited view.  As I have done this, I have come to a conclusion about prayer: I need to pray because I need a way to express hope.  Hope for things to get better when I or people I care about are struggling with life.  

Sometimes the circumstances of life are cruel and people suffer through no fault of their own.  Other times they, you, and I make foolish choices and endure the consequences.  In either case, what is done is done, it is what it is.  Think back to your high school or college commencement addresses.  How many individuals who sat around you listening to the grand speeches about the great things all of you would do have had any influence outside their small circle of friends and family?  Even the people we deem most powerful on earth are limited.  It is at that point of reaching our limit that we need hope.

When I face the ‘what is’ of my actions and it is a stinking mess, I need hope.  

When realize that those I love have only the faintest understanding of my heart’s cry for them because of my flawed and twisted behavior, I need hope.  

When insurmountable obstacles of disease or death or disaster loom, I need hope.

I need some way to lay hold of hope, to hope that things will get better, for me, for others.  Or, perhaps, if not better, then that the struggle will be purposeful.

And prayer is the best way I know of to express hope in an unknowable future.  Use the word Destiny or Fortune or Fate or, as I often do, Providence.  Whatever you want to call it, prayer is my recognition that there are mistakes I have made that I can’t fix, there are people I love whom I have hurt, there are places I will never go and things I will never do that I probably should have.  I cannot relive those moments and correct those failings.  When I pray, I am simply expressing the hope that the gap between all I wish to be and what I really am will be bridged.  That there IS a Grand Scheme, and in that Grand Scheme, all my limitations have a perfect fit whether it makes sense now or not.

“…we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. And not only that, but we also rejoice in our afflictions, because we know that affliction produces endurance, endurance produces proven character, and proven character produces hope. This hope will not disappoint us…”  Romans 5:2-5 (HCSB)