Quiet Talks on Prayer Part 11

You see at once that this is a method not for a month, nor for a year, but for years. The topical and textual study grow naturally out of it. And meanwhile you are getting an intelligent grasp of this wondrous cla.s.sic, you are absorbing the finest literature in the English tongue, and infinitely better yet, you are breathing into your very being a new, deep, broad, tender conception of _G.o.d_.

A Mirror Held up to G.o.d's Face.

It is simply fascinating too, to find what light floods these pages as they are read back in their historical setting, so far as that is possible. For example turn to the third Psalm, fifth verse,

"I laid me down and slept; I awaked; for the Lord sustaineth me."

I was brought up in an old-fas.h.i.+oned church where that was sung. I knew it by heart. As a boy I supposed it meant that night-time had come, and David was sleepy; he had his devotions, and went to bed, and had a good night's sleep. That was all it had suggested to me.

But on my first swing through of the wide reading, my eye was caught, as doubtless yours has often been, by the inscription at the beginning of the psalm: "A psalm of David, _when he fled from Absalom his son_." Quickly I turned back to Second Samuel to find that story. And I got this picture.

David, an old white-haired man, hurrying one day, barefooted, out of his palace, and his capital city, with a few faithful friends, fleeing for his life, because Absalom his favourite son was coming with the strength of the national army to take the kingdom, and his own father's life. And that night as the king lay down to try to catch some sleep, it was upon the bare earth, with only heaven's blue dome for a roof. And as he lay he could almost hear the steady tramp, tramp of the army, over the hills, seeking his throne and his life. Let me ask you, honestly now; do you think you would have slept much that night? I fear I would have been tempted sorely to lie awake thinking: "here I am, an old man, driven from my kingdom, and my home, by my own boy, that I have loved better than my own life." Do you think _you_ would have slept much? Tell me.

But David speaking of that night afterwards wrote this down:--"I laid me down, and _slept; I awaked_; (the thought is, I awaked _refreshed_) for the Lord sustaineth me." And I thought, as first that came to me, "I never will have insomnia again: I'll trust." And so you see a lesson of trust in G.o.d came, in my wide reading, out of the historical setting, that greatly refreshed and strengthened, and that I have never forgotten. What a G.o.d, to give sleep under such circ.u.mstances!

A fine ill.u.s.tration of this same thing is found in the New Testament in Paul's letter to the Philippians. At one end of that epistle is this scene: Paul, lying in the inner damp cell of a prison, its small creeping denizens familiarly examining this newcomer, in the darkness of midnight, his back bleeding from the stripes, his bones aching, and his feet fast in the stocks. That is one half of the historical setting of this book. And here is the other half: Paul, a prisoner in Rome. If he tries to ease his body by changing his position, swinging one limb over the other, a chain dangling at his ankle reminds him of the soldier by his side. As he picks up a quill to put a last loving word out of his tender heart for these old friends, a chain pulls at his wrist. That is Philippians, the prison epistle, resounding with clanking chain.

What is the keyword of the book, occurring oftener than any other?

Patience? Surely that would be appropriate. Long-suffering? Still more fitting would that seem. But, no, the keyword stands in sharpest contrast to these surroundings. Paul used clouds to make the sun's s.h.i.+ning more beautiful. Joy, rejoice, rejoicing, is the music singing all the way through these four chapters. What a wondrous Master, this Jesus, so to inspire His friend doing His will!

Every incident and occurrence of these pages becomes a mirror held up to G.o.d's face that we may see how wondrous He is.

"Upon Thy Word I rest Each pilgrim day.

This golden staff is best For all the way.

What Jesus Christ hath spoken, Cannot be broken!

"Upon Thy Word I rest; So strong, so sure, So full of comfort blest, So sweet, so pure: The charter of salvation: Faith's broad foundation.

"Upon Thy Word I stand: That cannot die.

Christ seals it in my hand.

He cannot lie.

Thy Word that faileth never: Abiding ever."[38]

Something about G.o.d's Will in Connection With Prayer

He Came to His Own.

The purpose of prayer is to get G.o.d's will done. What a stranger G.o.d is in His own world! n.o.body is so much slandered as He. He comes to His own, and they keep Him standing outside the door, like a pilgrim of the night, staff in hand, while they peer suspiciously at Him through the crack of the hinges.

Some of us shrink back from making a full surrender of life to G.o.d. And if the real reason were known it would be found to be that we are _afraid_ of G.o.d. We fear He will put something bitter in the cup, or some rough thing in the road. And without doubt the reason we are afraid of G.o.d is because we do not _know_ G.o.d. The great prayer of Jesus' heart that night with the eleven was, "that they may _know_ Thee the only true G.o.d, and Jesus Christ whom Thou didst send."

To understand G.o.d's will we must understand something of His character, Himself. There are five common every-day words I want to bring you to suggest something of who G.o.d is. They are familiar words, in constant use.

The first is the word _father_. "Father" stands for strength, loving strength. A father plans, and provides for, and protects his loved ones.

All fathers are not good. How man can extract the meaning out of a fine word, and use the word without its meaning. If you will think of the finest father ever you knew that anybody ever had; think of him now. Then remember this, G.o.d is a father, only He is so much finer a father than the finest father you ever knew of. And His will for your _life_--I am not talking about heaven, and our souls just now, that is in it too--His will for your life down here these days is a father's will for the one most dearly loved.

The second word is a finer word. Because woman is finer than man, and was made, and meant to be, this second word is finer than the first. I mean the word _mother_. If father stands for strength, mother stands for love,--great, patient, tender, fine-fibred, enduring love. What would she not do for her loved one! Why, not unlikely she went down into the valley of the shadow that that life might come; and did it gladly with the love-light s.h.i.+ning out of her eyes. Yes, and would do it again, that the life may remain if need be. That is a mother. You think of the finest mother ever you knew. And the suggestion brings the most hallowed memories to my own heart. Then remember this: G.o.d is a mother, only He is so much finer a mother than the finest mother you ever knew.

The references in scripture to G.o.d as a mother are numerous. "Under His wings" is a mother figure. The mother-bird gathers her brood up under her wings to feel the heat of her body, and for protection. The word mother is not used for G.o.d in the Bible. I think it is because with G.o.d "father"

includes "mother." It takes more of the human to tell the story than of the divine. With G.o.d, all the strength of the father and all the fine love of the mother are combined in that word "father." And His will for us is a mother's will, a wise loving mother's will for the darling of her heart.

The third word is _friend_. I do not mean to use it in the cheaper meaning. There is a certain kindliness of speech in which all acquaintances are called friends. Tupper says, we call all men friends who are not known to be enemies. But I mean to use the word in its finer meaning. Here, a friend is one who loves you for your sake only and steadfastly loves without regard to any return, even a return-love. The English have a saying that you may fill a church with your acquaintances, and not fill the pulpit seats with your friends. If you may have in your life one or two real friends you are very wealthy. If you will think for a moment of the very best friend you ever knew anybody to have. Then remember this: G.o.d is a friend. Only He is ever so much better a friend than the best friend you ever knew of. And the plan He has thought out for your life is such a one as that word would suggest.

The fourth word, I almost hesitate to use, yet I am sure I need not here.

The hesitancy is because the word and its relations.h.i.+p are spoken of lightly, frivolously, so much, even in good circles. I mean that rare fine word _lover_. Where two have met, and acquaintance has deepened into friends.h.i.+p, and that in turn into the holiest emotion, the highest friends.h.i.+p. What would he not do for her! She becomes the new human centre of his life. In a good sense he wors.h.i.+ps the ground she treads upon. And she--she will leave wealth for poverty if only so she may be with him in the coming days. She will leave home and friends, and go to the ends of the earth if his service calls him there. You think of the finest lover, man or woman, you ever knew anybody to have. Then remember this, and let me say it in soft, reverent tones, G.o.d is a lover--shall I say in yet more reverent voice, a sweetheart-lover. Only He is so much finer a lover than the finest lover you ever knew of. And His will, His plan for your life and mine--it hushes my heart to say it--is a lover's plan for his only loved one.

The fifth word is this fourth word a degree finer spun, a stage farther on, and higher up, the word _husband_. This is the word on the man side for the most hallowed relations.h.i.+p of earth. This is the lover relations.h.i.+p in its perfection stage. With men husband is not always a finer word than lover. The more's the pity. How man does cheapen G.o.d's plan of things; leaves out the kernel, and keeps only an empty sh.e.l.l sometimes. In G.o.d's thought a husband is a lover _plus_. He is all that the finest lover is, and more; more tender, more eager, more thoughtful.

Two lives are joined, and begin living one life. Two wills, yet one. Two persons, yet one purpose. Duality in unity. Will you call to mind for a moment the best husband you ever knew any woman to have. Then remember this that G.o.d is a husband; only He is an infinitely more thoughtful husband than any you ever knew. And His will for your life is a husband's will for his life's friend and companion.

Now, please, do not _you_ take one of these words, and say, "I like that"; and _you_ another and say, "That conception of G.o.d appeals to me," and _you_ another. How we do whittle G.o.d down to our narrow conceptions! You must take all five words, and think the finest meaning into each, and then put them all together, to get a close up idea of G.o.d. He is all that, _and more_.

You see G.o.d is so much that it takes a number of earth's relations.h.i.+ps put together to get a good suggestion of what He is. He is a father, a mother, a friend, a lover, a husband. I have not brought book, and chapter, and verse. But you know I could spend a long time with you reading over the numerous pa.s.sages giving these conceptions of G.o.d.

And G.o.d's will for us is the plan of such a G.o.d as that. It includes the body, health and strength; the family and home matters; money and business matters; friends.h.i.+ps, including the choice of life's chief friend; it includes service, what service and where; and constant guidance; it includes the whole life, and the world of lives. All this He has thought into, lovingly, carefully. Does a wise mother think of her child's needs into the details, the necessities and the loving extras? That is G.o.d.

The One Purpose of Prayer.

Now, the whole thought in prayer is to get the will of a G.o.d like that done in our lives and upon this old earth. The greatest prayer any one can offer is, "Thy will be done." It will be offered in a thousand different forms, with a thousand details, as needs arise daily. But every true prayer comes under those four words. There is not a good desirable thing that you have thought of that He has not thought of first, and probably with an added touch not in your thought. Not to grit your teeth and lock your jaw and pray for grace to say, "Thy will be _endured_: it is bitter, but I must be resigned; that is a Christian grace; Thy will be _endured_." Not that, please. Do not slander G.o.d like that. There is a superficial idea among men that charges G.o.d with many misfortunes and ills for which He is not at all responsible. He is continually doing the very best that can be done under the circ.u.mstances for the best results. He has a bad mixture of stubborn warped human wills to deal with. With infinite patience and skill and diplomacy and success too He is ever working at the tangled skein of human life, through the human will.

It may help us here to remember that G.o.d has a first and a second will for us: a first choice and a second. He always prefers that His first will shall be accomplished in us. But where we will not be wooed up to that height, He comes down to the highest level we will come up to, and works with us there. For instance, G.o.d's first choice for Israel was that He Himself should be their king. There was to be no human, visible king, as with the surrounding nations. He was to be their king. They were to be peculiar in this. But to Samuel's sorrow and yet more to G.o.d's, they insisted upon a king. And so G.o.d gave them a king. And David the great shepherd-psalmist-king was a man after G.o.d's own heart, and the world's Saviour came of the Davidic line. G.o.d did His best upon the level they chose and a great best it was. Yet the human king and line of kings was not G.o.d's first will, but a second will yielded to because the first would not be accepted. G.o.d is ever doing the best for human lives that can be done through the human will.

His first will for our bodies, without doubt, is that there should be a strong healthy body for each of us. But there is a far higher thing being aimed at in us than that. And with keen pain to His own heart, He oft times permits bodily weakness and suffering because in the conditions of our wills only so can these higher and highest things be gotten at. And where the human will comes into intelligent touch with Himself, and the higher can so be reached, with great gladness and eagerness the bodily difficulty is removed by Him.

There are two things, at least, that modify G.o.d's first will for us. First of all the degree of our intelligent willingness that He shall have His full sway. And second, the circ.u.mstances of one's life. Each of us is the centre of a circle of people, an ever changing circle. If we be in touch with Him G.o.d is speaking through each of us to his circle. Our experiences with G.o.d: His dealings with us, under the varying circ.u.mstances are a part of His message to that circle. G.o.d is trying to win men. It takes marvellous diplomacy on His part. And G.o.d is a wondrous tactician.

But--very reverently--He is a needy G.o.d. He needs us to help Him, each in his circle. We must be perfectly willing to have His will done; and more, we must trust Him to know what is best to do in us and with us in the circle of our circ.u.mstances. G.o.d is a great economist. He wastes no forces. Every bit is being conserved towards the great end in view.

There may be a false submission to His supposed will in some affliction; a not reaching out after _all_ that He has for us. And at the other swing of the pendulum there may be a sort of _logical praying_ for some desirable thing because a friend tells us we should claim it. By logical praying I mean the studying of a statement of G.o.d's word, and possibly some one's explanation of it, and hearing or knowing how somebody else has claimed a certain thing through that statement and then concluding that therefore we should so claim. The trouble with that is that it stops too soon. Praying in the Spirit as opposed to logical praying is doing this logical thinking: _then_ quietly taking all to G.o.d, to learn what His will is for _you_, under your circ.u.mstances, and in the circle of people whom He touches through you.

The Spirit's Prayer Room.

There is a remarkable pa.s.sage in Paul's Roman letter about prayer and G.o.d's will.[39] "And in like manner the Spirit also helpeth our infirmity: for we know not how to pray as we ought; but the Spirit Himself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered; and He that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit, that He maketh intercession for the saints according to the will of G.o.d."

Please notice: these words connect back with the verses ending with verse seventeen. Verses eighteen to twenty-five are a parenthesis. As the Spirit within breathes out the "Father" cry of a child, which is the prayer-cry, so He helps us in praying. It is our infirmity that we do not know how to pray _as we ought_. There is willingness and eagerness too. No bother there. But a lack of knowledge. We don't know how. But the Spirit knows how. He is the Master-prayor. He knows G.o.d's will perfectly. He knows what best to be praying under all circ.u.mstances. And He is within you and me.

He is there as a prayer-spirit. He prompts us to pray. He calls us away to the quiet room to our knees. He inclines to prayer wherever we are. He is thinking thoughts that find no response in us. They cannot be expressed in our lips for they are not in our thinking. He prays with an intensity quite beyond the possibility of language to express. And the heart-searcher--G.o.d listening above--knows fully what this praying Spirit is thinking within me, and wordlessly praying, for they are one. He recognizes His own purposes and plans being repeated in this man down on the earth by His own Spirit.

And the great truth is that the Spirit within us prays G.o.d's will. He teaches us G.o.d's will. He teaches us how to pray G.o.d's will. And He Himself prays G.o.d's will in us. And further that He seeks to pray G.o.d's will--that is to pray for the thing G.o.d has planned--in us before we have yet reached up to where we know ourselves what that will is.