A friend recently asked the question, “Why do we pray?” I’m not sure what was behind the question, but I decided to take it seriously. If we’re honest, there are times when praying feels like a chore or like talking to emptiness or just talking to myself inside my head. Besides, God knows what we’re going to say. So why say it?
I’m weak at praying. I muddle through it. I’m not particularly deep or faithful in it. This is the reason why I lean so heavily on the Psalms. I rewrote the whole book of Psalms in my own language because I needed to do it. I’m writing about every single psalm on this blog because I need to do it.
In my stumbling prayer life, I’ve discovered just how essential these poor prayers of mine are. I’m like the little old lady who put two pennies in the offering. Jesus said she gave everything. My two-cent prayers are my everything. They’re my lanyard.
So, why pray? There’s not just one reason. There are many, many reasons. And here are 33 of them. There are more, but it’s a good start.
To reorient myself toward God. I’m far too oriented toward myself.
To reorient myself toward others. I’m far too oriented toward myself.
To vent my emotions. There’s a lot going on inside of me that I’m unaware of until I pray it. Most of it is ugly and venting it in pray is essential if I’m to keep it from getting puked on to others.
To say thank you for all that is true and good and beautiful around me. There is more right with the world than wrong with the world, and I need to see life through the lens of gratitude.
To offer myself to God. The goal of this life is to give myself away. I hope to be completely spent when I’m done. And I practice that by offering myself to God in my praying.
To articulate my fears and move toward trust. I hate my fears. They cloud too many of my relationships and keep me from too many good things. It’s only when I articulate them that I can move away from them into trust and action or trust and patient inaction, depending on the situation.
To articulate my sorrows and losses and move toward gratitude. I’m too optimistic. I refuse to accept that anything is negative, always trying to make lemonade from the lemons I end up with. But that means I lie to myself about loss, refusing to grieve it. But prayer enables me to be honest about loss, come to terms with it, and settle into gratitude.
To find a friend in God. He’s right there after all.
Because I believe. This is what believers do. Giving up on praying is a sign of giving up on belief.
In order to believe. I pray myself into belief. Everyone who prays does. Prayer creates faith where none existed before, enhances faith where it was small before.
Because details matter. When I pray the details of my life (or anyone else’s life), I acknowledge the importance of those details. I’m not the first to say it, but God is in the details. They matter to him, so they should matter to me.
To bow before the King. God is King. I don’t live in a democracy. I need to be reminded of that fact and to simply bow before the Sovereign.
To enjoy God. God is the author of all pleasures. He is the greatest giver of gifts. He is Joy and the giver of joy.
To make sense of the senselessness of life. People die or get broken, disfigured, traumatized. Evil ideologies and evil people hold sway at times. Even though I won’t get an answer, sometimes I just need to ask WHY?
To love my friends by remembering them before God. Advocating for friends is a form of active love. Talking with God about friends is loving them along with the one who loves them best.
To rest from all of my striving. It’s such a relief to hold out my hands and say, “Here you go,” handing over to God the things I’m trying way too hard to do something about.
To see things as they really are. Not always, but prayer often brings clarity. It helps me see.
To stop being dazzled by celebrities and politicians and those I’m told to pay attention to. The news, social media, and popular culture in general usually misses out on the important things, the important people. It missed out on David with his sheep and Jesus in his manger. Prayer exposes all of the empty posturing for what it really is.
To pay attention to the people and things God wants me to pay attention to. Once my eyes are turned from the empty people and things, I can finally see the ones I’m supposed to see.
To move from consumption to love. Prayer consumes nothing. In fact, it exposes my never-satisfied consumerism. It moves me from my wants to others’ needs.
To stop moving in our constantly moving world. Prayer slows me down, shuts me down. It’s the best pause button ever.
To be silent in our noisy world. Prayer holds up a hand and tells me to shut up.
To be unproductive in our production-oriented, functional world. Prayer gets nothing done. It keeps me from turning myself into a function and from turning others into functions as well.
To worship the one who is worthy of praise. Prayer feeds worship and is fed by worship. God is put back in the center of my life.
To listen. God speaks too.
To do the one thing helpful for other people whom I’m not able to help in other ways. There are so many times when I can’t do anything at all for others, except to pray for them. Usually, that’s the best help I can give. It’s certainly better than giving them advice!
To take God and others seriously. It’s so easy for me to brush past others in my self-importance. Prayer calls me to pay attention to them.
To put my suffering into perspective as I pray for those who suffer even more than I do. I’m not good at this, but when I’m sick or struggling in a certain area, I try to pray for others who are sicker or are struggling more deeply. I want my pain to be a trigger to see that same pain in others. This both gives a purpose to my suffering and puts it into perspective. It also helps me stop whining.
To discover what it is I really want, separating it from what I crave. Most of what I want are things and experiences I’ve been told to want. They aren’t wants that have arisen from within me. Because of that, I run after these external cravings and ignore the real desires of my heart. Prayer helps me sift through my wants if I’m willing to present them before God.
To ask for forgiveness, because I blow it so often. For some, confession is at the top of their prayer list. Not here. I’m defined by God, not by sin. So, God is at the top of my list. And yet, I blow it plenty. Daily. But thankfully, there is the ability to deal with my destructiveness by laying it out before God in confession.
To say “I love you” to the one who has loved me so well. The truest truth in my life is this: I am loved. What else can I do but say, “I love you, too”?
To articulate my hopes and dreams. I can do this with others, but God is the one who won’t laugh and who also won’t say, “Sure. Go do it.” He will take them seriously without coddling me.
To remember that God is the greatest reality of my life. Other people walk into and out of my life. I go from place to place. No one and nothing is ever-present. The only constant reality is God. The only person who faces me at all times is God. And so I pray, turning my face toward him.