“We always love hearing you pray,” the two ladies said, almost in unison. Lori was hosting a couple of friends for brunch. They asked me to bless the food.
I feel uneasy when people admire my prayer. “I’m just talking to my Lord,” I think, so how can I be complimented for that? Although I am aware of those present when I pray, I’m not trying to say impressive things to them.
I used to try to avoid having someone call on me to pray. In high school I was sitting in the third pew from the pulpit during a Sunday night worship service. Why I chose to sit there, I don’t recall. The pastor’s sermon seemed exceptionally long that evening. I was tired and had trouble staying awake. Finally, we all stood to close the service, for which I was thankful. Then the pastor paused, scanned the congregation, finally settling his gaze at me. I remember thinking, “He’s going to ask me to close the service with prayer. No, no, no, don’t do that.” I wanted to crawl under the pew and hide.
Then I heard, “David, would you come to the pulpit and close our service with prayer.” Reluctantly, I stepped to the pulpit. As I hesitated to begin, all I could think of was, “This is being broadcast on the local radio station. People are going to listen to me pray.” I stumbled and stammered through it, finally mumbling, “Amen.” And then I quietly slipped out a side door, embarrassed.
The next day, my chemistry teacher, in whose class I was struggling to stay alive, commented: “I heard your little prayer last night on the radio,” he grinned, as if, or so I imagined, mocking my prayer, amplifying my humiliation.
Most often, our public prayers are difficult for the same reason mine was: we think of the people— usually our peers, who are listening, evaluating,(we think) our prayers—rather than focusing on the One we are addressing, our heavenly Father, who looks at our heart more than our words.
I recall the story of the uneducated farmer the pastor asked to pray. Though his prayer was sincere, his speech was halting and filled with grammatical errors. When an insensitive lady criticized him, he responded, “Well, ma’am, I wasn’t talking to you, anyway.”
But our public prayers are, after all, need I state the obvious: public. Not everyone, even some who enjoy a close walk with the Lord, are comfortable praying before others. As a pastor, I tried to remember that and would ask privately before calling on someone in public. I learned the hard way. As a student pastor at Richland Baptist Church—nestled on a country road between Cynthiana and Falmouth, Ky, I called on Charles Rogan Clifford to pray the offertory prayer. He was one of the four grown men, ushers, standing before the pulpit, ready to take the offering. I randomly called on Charles Rogan and was met with dead silence for what seemed like five minutes. His brother, Ernest, much to my relief, stepped forward and prayed. Afterward, Ernest whispered, “Don’t call on Charles Rogan to pray.” I got it.
Prayers spoken aloud can be an avenue of ministry. And that is a reason to think through our public prayers, even when they may be unrehearsed. But how can we think through prayers and yet be spontaneous?
In seminary, I attended the same church as my theology professor, Dr. James Leo Garrett, known for his rapid-fire lectures, wealth of knowledge, and wisdom. One Wednesday evening at prayer meeting, I happened to be sitting next to Dr. Garrett when the church’s Associate Pastor prayed the intercessory prayer.
Listening to him was like eavesdropping on a personal conversation between him and the Lord. When he closed with, “Amen,” Dr. Garrett, who stood almost a foot taller than me, leaned down and whispered, “David, you really have to know the heart of God to pray like that.”
Dr. Garrett was right. And that day, I aspired to know the heart of God as best I could and let my prayers spoken aloud take care of themselves.
You did!!!!!!