LITMIR.BIZ

      Contents

      Introduction

      1. One Pilgrim’s Story

      2. Why Prayer?

      3. Praying Time

      4. Holy Discipline

      5. The Practices of Prayer

      6. Writing to God

      7. Hearing God’s Voice

      8. What’s Theology Got to Do with It?

      9. Effectual Prayer

      10. Zacheus and Tea Parties

       Appendix

       Notes

       Acknowledgments

       INTRODUCTION

      A few years ago, something happened to seriously rattle my cage—in fact, rattle it so absolutely that the cage door sprang open. I was attending a conference on spiritual disciplines, and I chanced to overhear a comment about a monk who lived centuries ago. That monk: Brother Lawrence.

      I’ve always been a major fan of Brother Lawrence, who teaches in the book The Practice of the Presence of God that we can be in prayer all the time—while we are preparing food, teaching a class, or caring for a child. Brother Lawrence writes of a life of menial labor in the kitchen of his monastery, scrubbing pots and baking bread, all the while in fervent prayer and worship, reveling in the grace of God, in deep communion with his Savior, even as he worked. Seventeenth-century multitasking. The notion fit so nicely in my jam-packed, twenty-first-century life.

      But that day at the conference, I learned that what gets left out of the story is that this same Brother Lawrence who practiced God’s presence while working also participated in formal, liturgical, corporate prayer eight times a day. Eight times. Every day. Then, he prayed without ceasing. I always wondered why my experience of prayer was not more like the one he described. It’s sort of like having been given a cake recipe that left out the part about turning on the oven. (And I always wondered why my cake was more like soup.)

      Brother Lawrence had a discipline of prayer. Many times a day. Ah, I think, but that was then; this is now. Brother Lawrence didn’t have a carpool, children, e-mails, committees, jobs, and a cell phone. But, he did have a soul and a Savior, just the same as I. And he did have a moment-to-moment relationship with God in Christ that my heart often longs for, an intimacy of constant and soulful connection.

      So. The conference ends. I go back home, bring in the mail, wash up the dishes that did not wash themselves while I was away, and I begin to wonder. What if I tried this? What if I tried to pray, not eight, but maybe four times a day? For fifteen minutes, say. I, whose discipline for physical exercise involves two friends coming to my house to drag me physically to the gym. I, who can sit down for a minute to watch the evening news and rise to standing an entire two-hour, twelve-commercial movie later.

      Brother Lawrence’s formal practice of praying several times each day was so very different from anything in my experience. I, who actually believe that prayer might be the most important thing in life, had to admit I prayed when it was convenient. I loved God. I wanted to know him, and I gave prayer about five minutes a day. And even then, I might skip praying if the alarm clock failed or someone called a meeting before 9 a.m.

      But it was as though I had been told a precious secret, and I remember the excitement I first felt when I decided I would try it. I would pray four times a day. And from the very start, and through the years that followed, the practice of praying in this way has been transformative. Spending time with God every few hours means God is on my mind; I’m conscious of his love as I move through the day; I see things through his eyes. This is no state of perfection. In fact, I am far more aware of my failings and my sin, which means I am continually awestruck at the cost Christ paid to bring us, every one, to a state of grace. This new practice has become a lovely swirl of holy consciousness, repentance, gratitude, and substantive blessing.