How To Pray Part Two: What To Pray

 

July 13, 2025 – The 5th Sunday after Pentecost: Proper 10C

Amos 7:7-17; Psalm 82; Colossians 1:1-14; Luke 10:25-37

© 2025 Evan D. Garner

Audio of this sermon will be available soon. Video can be seen here.

“How long will you judge unjustly, and show favor to the wicked? Save the weak and the orphan; defend the humble and needy.”

With those words, the psalmist gives voice to the world’s desperate plea for justice and deliverance. This is our cry—the cry of all human beings whose hearts are even the least bit susceptible to the plight of the weak and the poor. Psalm 82 is a prayer for the sort of justice that only God can give—the setting-right of the world that we recognize as the unique domain of the God of our ancestors. When we say this prayer, we call upon the name of that God, and, in so doing, we become channels through which the Almighty One brings God’s justice to the earth by making that justice manifest in our lives.

Today, I am preaching the second of three sermons in a row about prayer. If you missed last week, don’t worry. You can read or listen to it online or pick up a copy on the table by the front door of the church. Last week, we focused on the when of prayer. When do we pray? What moment in time does our prayer occupy? The answer I offered is that prayer always happens in that threshold time between our gratitude for what God has done and our hopeful anticipation of what God will do. Because our prayers are always grounded in the gratitude of generational hindsight, we are able to invoke with confidence God’s name and God’s promise of salvation as we step through that threshold and into what lies ahead. Prayer is how we bring God with us—or, more accurately, how we remain tethered to God—as we move forward. And that means that every day must start with prayer. 

Last week, I challenged you to begin each morning with prayer and, in so doing, place everything that the day will bring in subjection to the presence and authority of God. How did it go? Did you make it? Did you start every day with prayer? If not, that’s okay. It took me years of trying to get into the habit of saying my prayers first thing, and it’s a way of life I still need to return to from time to time. Don’t give up. Every day is new.

This week, I want to talk about the what of prayer—the words we say or, in some cases, don’t say. And I want to start by asking a question that has bothered me ever since I was a child: if Jesus promises to hear and answer every prayer that we ask in his name, how do we know that we’re praying for the right thing? If good, faithful, Christian soldiers on both sides of the battlefield are praying for victory—a victory which necessarily comes at the cost of their enemies’ lives—whose prayer gets answered?

I don’t think prayer works like that. Prayer isn’t wish-fulfillment. Prayer is the language of intimacy with God. It is our love language which we speak to our beloved not only with our lips but with our hearts and minds and souls and lives. It is how we communicate with the one to whom we belong. Prayer is our response to the union with God that God makes possible in each one of us—the union which we, as Christians, recognize and pursue through Jesus Christ, the Incarnate Word. Prayer, in the end, isn’t actually what we say to God but what God says in us and through us in the person of Jesus Christ. 

How can we, mere mortals, ever ascend to the exalted throne of God and dare to speak to the Almighty One? Because Jesus Christ, the Incarnate Word, who has taken upon himself our fragile human nature and in whose glorious divinity we now stand, brings us there—redeemed by his death, covered in his mercy, and protected by his love. We stand boldly in the presence of God within Jesus Christ, who there intercedes on our behalf. Prayer, therefore, is Christ speaking in us and us speaking in him. And that means that the words we use in prayer must, by God’s grace, be nothing less than the words that Christ himself will use. Prayer is where our words become God’s Word as God’s Word becomes our words. And that means that, if we’re looking for the right words to say, there’s no better place to start than the psalms. 

The psalms are the prayer book of all of God’s people. As holy scripture, they are the Word of God—the same capital-W Word that, in Christ, became flesh. Those who pray the psalms are, in effect, speaking God’s Word back to God in prayer. In a mystical way that defies our understanding, because Jesus Christ, the Son of David, was within the body of his ancestor when King David wrote the psalms, even David, we believe, the one whose heart belonged to God, prayed within the same Word in which we pray as members of the Body of Christ. That means that, when we lift up our voice in the words of the psalms, we pray in Christ by praying in God’s Word. 

Look again at the words of Psalm 82, and hear how they give voice to the will of God by proclaiming the Word of God. “God arises in the council of heaven and gives judgment in the midst of the gods.” This psalm is a courtroom drama, which we enact every time we pray it. This prayer gives voice to God’s great summons to the powers—the gods—of this world, which are inferior to and subject to the Almighty. 

“How long will you judge unjustly,” our God declares, interrogating all who claim authority in this world. “How long will you show favor to the wicked?” With these words, God’s Word proclaims God’s judgment upon those powers, and, by saying these words, we join in the affirmation of God’s justice. “Rescue the weak and the poor,” God says to the powers of this world. “Deliver them from the power of the wicked,” we say in unison with God because we know that this is God’s will.

No matter how powerful the forces that rule this world appear to be, this psalm reminds us that they are powerless before God. Their mortality and frailty are exposed in the divine courtroom. Their folly is on display. “You shall die like mortals,” we pray, giving voice to an everlasting truth. “You shall fall like any leader,” we pray, standing in solidarity with those whom they would oppress. We pray this prayer until God’s judgement upon the powers of this world is complete: “Arise, O God, and rule the earth, for you shall take all nations as your own.”

Whenever we pray the psalms, we know that we are speaking God’s Word to God—that Jesus Christ, the Incarnate Word, is praying within us and that we are praying within him. These are his words, and he has given them to us to be our words. But, of course, these are not the only words or prayers of Jesus. When the disciples asked Jesus to teach them how to pray, he taught them the prayer that we say every time we gather in worship: “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.” All the prayers that we offer in Christ, including the psalms, are found in the words and in the form that Jesus taught us.

So why not simply pray the Lord’s Prayer over and over and leave all the other prayers behind? For the same reason that we say “Black lives matter” instead of “all lives matter” even though we believe that all lives matter. Why? Because God allows us to pray for the particular and urgent needs of the world and of our hearts by naming before God the people and situations who need God’s justice, mercy, love, and salvation. But, when we lift up to God those particular needs, we do so by remembering that we stand within Jesus Christ who intercedes for them on our behalf. The goal of our intercessory prayers, therefore, is to bring those we love into the union we share with Christ.

Sometimes we seek that union by reading and meditating on other passages of holy scripture besides the psalms. Although they may not be prayers in and of themselves, the Word of God is present in all the words of the Bible, and, through spiritual practices like Lectio Divina, we can listen to a passage of scripture and then sit quietly with God’s Word and listen for what the divine is speaking back to us. In that way, even silence itself can be prayer. Although it takes practice and sometimes requires a coach or a mentor, centering prayer or meditative silence is how we seek union with Christ in wordless prayer. I also believe that the Holy Spirit gives some individuals the gift of tongues—the ability to pray God’s Word in the power of the Spirit with utterances beyond human comprehension. 

If some of that sounds scary, good! It is scary! It is terrifying to stand in the presence of God and dare to speak, whether with words or with silence or with what St. Paul calls a groaning too deep for words. But we dare to speak because God has invited us to dwell within God’s Son, the Incarnate Word, who intercedes in us and through us and for us. 

This week, I want you to try something new. I want you to continue to pray first thing every day, but this week I want you to make the psalms a part of your prayers. At the top of the Epistle insert, you will see a link to prayer.forwardmovement.org/pray. That link will take you to the Daily Office. If you want to say the whole thing, go for it. Morning and Evening Prayer are the principal services of daily prayer in our tradition. But that might be too much. Near the beginning of the office, you will find the psalms appointed for the day. If you just read through those psalms and ask God to make them the prayers of your heart, you will make God’s Word the focus of your prayer. Do that and say the Lord’s Prayer each morning, and your prayers will begin to deepen your connection with God, which, after all, is the goal of prayer. Next week, we will finish the series by asking why we pray, and I hope you’ll come back.

How To Pray Part One: When To Pray

 

July 6, 2025 – The 4th Sunday after Pentecost: Proper 9C

2 Kings 5:1-14; Psalm 30; Galatians 6:1-16; Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

© 2025 Evan D. Garner

Audio of this sermon can be heard here. Video can be seen here. 

Do you ever feel like the constant barrage of bad news is pushing God out of your life? Where are we supposed to look for God in a world in which wars are waged without any sign of ceasing? Where is God to be found in a world in which the poor and vulnerable are repeatedly trampled upon by the rich and powerful? Where is God hiding in a world in which a flash food rages in the middle of the night and sweeps 27 little girls away, presumably to a terrible and terrifying death?

A part of us knows that somehow God is still here—still with us even though the headlines bring unrelenting news of insurmountable struggle—but it feels like that part of us is shrinking under the weight of the pain and grief which show no sign of abating. How do we hold onto God? How do we hold onto hope? How do we maintain any shred of confidence that God is still God and that one day God’s love will win? The answer is prayer. 

Prayer gives life and energy to our faith. If God’s love is the foundation upon which our faith is built, prayer is the blueprint by which that faith takes shape. Prayer is how our relationship with God is enfleshed. It is the tool through God shapes us into the people God has created us to be. It is the channel through which God’s love takes hold of our lives and the world around us. It is the means by which the reign of God continues to grow and spread and push back against the forces of evil that dare to encroach upon it. It is the thing that keeps us anchored in God even and especially when life’s storms rage against us and against the people we love. But how many of us know how to pray?

Today, I am beginning a three-week sermon series on prayer because I believe that there is nothing more important for us to learn right now than how to pray. If you grew up in a mainline Protestant denomination like this one, there is a good chance that no one ever taught you how to pray. But all of us need to be taught. Those of us who were told that prayer is nothing more than speaking to God as if God were our friend probably gave up on prayer a long time ago. God is our friend, but prayer is more than pouring out our heart to a sympathetic ear. 

Prayer is how we speak to God in the person of Jesus Christ. Prayer is how Jesus brings us into himself and speaks the needs of our hearts to God on our behalf. Prayer is Christ praying within us and us praying within him. It is the nexus—the crucible—in which our humble words become nothing less than the Word of God and, in turn, in which God’s Word becomes our words. Prayer is the means by which our entire lives are united to God as expressed in the beautiful words that Jesus taught us to say: Our Father. Prayer like that doesn’t happen by itself. The request that the disciples made of Jesus must become our request as well: “Lord, teach us to pray.”

Learning to pray is not a one-time experience. All of us, including preachers like me, need to learn again and again how to pray—how to grow in prayer. Although I have some experience and expertise to pass along, this sermon series is as much a shared exploration as a lesson from an expert, and I hope it will be valuable for all of us. This morning, I want to focus on the timing of prayer—the when of our prayer. Next week, I’ll explore the words that we are supposed to say—the what of our prayer. Finally, in the third week, I’ll talk about the purpose of prayer—the why of our prayer. Each week, I will use the psalm appointed for the day as the starting point for our exploration, and I hope to give you something practical that you can take home and try out as a way of learning how to pray. Now, let’s start with today’s psalm.

“I will exalt you, O Lord, because you have lifted me up.” With those words, the psalmist begins the thirtieth psalm, and we already hear in them an important lesson for the timing of prayer. The psalmist promises to exalt and praise God because of something God has already done. That is how all prayer begins—in response to God, the one in whom all things have their origin. In effect, all our prayers are prayed in hindsight—with gratitude for what God has done. Not every prayer is a prayer of thanksgiving, but prayer itself is a thank offering to God. The very fact that we can pray at all is a testament to God’s loving kindness. 

Somewhere along the way, the psalmist’s personal prayer of thanksgiving became the prayer of the entire worshipping community. “Sing to the Lord, you faithful servants,” the psalmist bids the congregation. “Give thanks for the remembrance of God’s holiness.” The psalmist invites us to pray by inviting us to remember. Even if the saving work that we are asked to bring to mind is not a recollection of our own deliverance, God’s goodness, which is manifest throughout history, is reason enough for us to pray. It is the remembrance of God’s saving love that locates us and our prayers at a particular moment in salvation history. It is gratitude for what has been that brings us to the threshold of asking God for what will be.

Not every prayer is a joyful thanksgiving. The psalmist acknowledges that hardship comes even to those who are faithful: “While I felt secure, I said, ‘I shall never be disturbed. You, Lord, with your favor, made me as strong as the mountains.’ Then you hid your face, and I was filled with fear.” Even those who rightly attribute to God their strength and security are subject to pain, loss, and suffering. Things change. It feels like the God who was beside us all along has suddenly hidden Godself from us. In an instant, our feelings of invincibility give way to a tidal wave of inadequacy. Our prayers of thanksgiving become prayers of desperation. “Hear, O Lord, and have mercy upon me,” the psalmist prays, “O Lord, be my helper.”

But the psalmist also reminds us that the prayers we utter in our moments of deepest need are the channels through which our faith in God is maintained. “What profit is there in my blood, if I go down to the pit?” the psalmist pleads with God. “Will the dust praise you or declare your faithfulness?” In effect, the psalmist is reminding himself that his life has value to God because his life is a song of praise. With whom are we really bargaining when we plead with God like that? Do we expect God to be convinced by our words, or are we really just convincing ourselves that, no matter what direction our life takes, its true purpose is found in glorifying God? Prayer, therefore, is how we remind ourselves that, no matter what happens, we belong to God. 

Whenever we pray, therefore, our prayers inhabit that place where God’s eternal goodness becomes new all over again. “Weeping may spend the night,” the psalmist declares, “but joy comes in the morning.” Prayer must be a daily pursuit because every day is an opportunity for us to reclaim our place in the story of salvation—to reground ourselves in God’s loving kindness whether that day will bring joy or sorrow, celebration or hardship. When the psalmist says, “My heart sings to you without ceasing…I will give you thanks for ever,” he is not promising to inundate God with a cascade of incessant utterances but is recommitting himself to the practice of praising God every day of his life. That must be our commitment as well.

In short, prayer always happens at that moment when our gratitude for what is past brings us to a moment of need and then transforms that moment into a threshold for our participation in God’s love, which stretches out ahead of us. And prayer is what turns that particular moment into an unending place in which we dwell with God.

I want to invite you to try something this week: I want you to start every day with prayer. It doesn’t have to be long. It doesn’t have to be formal. It can be as simple as saying the Lord’s Prayer, or, if that feels like too much, you can just say, “O God, make speed to save me.” But whatever you say, I want your prayer to be the very first thing you do every day this week.

That sounds simple enough, but it is as deceptively difficult as it is subtly powerful. How many of you start your day by looking at your phone? When the first thing you do every morning is to look at the headlines or scroll through social media or glance at your calendar, you are allowing the noise of this world to push God away. When we start our day with something other than prayer, we place God in subjection to the demands of this life, when, in fact, our God is the Lord of all of them. Every headline, every post, every meme, every appointment, every meeting—our God reigns over them all. 

Prayer every morning is how we learn to believe that. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “The entire day receives order and discipline when it acquires unity. This unity must be sought and found in morning prayer.” [1]  Next week, I will talk more about what we are supposed to pray—what words we should use and why our words matter—but, for now, what matters is that we pray at all and that we start our day in prayer.

Tonight, before you go to sleep, decide how you will begin your day tomorrow with prayer. You can use the Lord’s Prayer, or you can simply say, “O God, make speed to save me.” You can take home your bulletin and recite the words of Psalm 30. If the first thing you typically reach for is your phone, make sure that the first screen you will see is a prayer that you can say. Tonight, you can Google “The Lord’s Prayer” or “Psalm 23” and leave that screen open as a reminder to begin your day with prayer. However you do it, decide to start each day with prayer, and you will soon discover a connection with God that follows you all day long. That connection is where life-changing faith begins, and it is upon that connection that we will build next week.

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1. Bonhoeffer, Dietrich. Psalms: The Prayer Book of the Bible. Augsburg Fortress Press; Minneapolis: 1970, 64.