One of those days Jesus went out to a mountainside to pray, and spent the night praying to God. When morning came, he called his disciples to him and chose twelve of them, whom he also designated apostles: Simon (whom he named Peter), his brother Andrew, James, John, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, James son of Alphaeus, Simon who was called the Zealot, Judas son of James, and Judas Iscariot, who became a traitor.

–Luke 6:12-16 (TNIV)

Luke spends a lot of time in his Gospel telling us about Jesus’ prayer life. He doesn’t tell us what Jesus prayed, but that he prayed regularly. The pattern seems to be that before important decisions in his ministry, Jesus withdrew from the crowds and spent a goodly amount of time in prayer, seeking the Father’s guidance. Paul’s great exposition on humility and obedience in Philippians 2:1-11 immediately comes to mind as we see our Lord in prayer.

Perhaps this helps explain Jesus’ remarkable composure during crisis events in his life. If our Lord felt it necessary to seek the Father’s will in his life, how much more so should we who are terribly broken do so.

How’s your prayer life working for you?

St. Augustine makes an identical point about miracles in his discussion of the miracle at Cana. “Our Lord’s miracle in turning water into wine comes as no surprise to those who know that it is God who did it. At the wedding that day he made wine in the six waterpots he had had filled with water; but he does the same thing every year in the vines. The servants put the water in the jugs, and he turned it into wine. In just the same way the Lord turns into wine the water that the clouds drop. Only that does not amaze us, because it happens every year … So the Lord kept back certain unusual things for himself to do, to wake us up with miracles to worship him.”

The miracle that breaks the rules reminds us that the rules themselves are miraculous. We need to rediscover and to cherish a basic sense of wonder, of surprise, of the precariousness of actuality. Ecclesiastes, the dismal worldweary preacher of the Old Testament, might grumble that “there is nothing new under the sun” (Eccles 1:9); but the New Testament answers loudly and excitedly, “Look! I am making all things new” (Apoc 21:5). Of course, we may all of us sometimes get Ecclesiastes moods, and if we do, it is comforting to know that they are not utterly debarred from God’s domain; but we should not devote our minds and imaginations to prolonging and justifying them. We should aim rather to have minds and imaginations able to respond joyfully to the truth that in Christ everything is given back its youth and at least something of the freshness of the very first days of creation.

Morning has broken Like the first morning, Blackbird has spoken Like the first bird. Praise for the singing! Praise for the morning! Praise for them, springing Fresh from the Word!

To experience the world like this must lead us, however indefinitely, in the direction of prayer, because this kind of appreciation cannot help but include an element of thanksgiving. As Chesterton said: “Children are grateful when Santa Claus puts in their stockings gifts of toys or sweets. Could I not be grateful to Santa Claus when he put in my stockings the gift of two miraculous legs?”

–Simon Tugwell, Prayer

Father, I am beginning to know how much I miss when I fail to talk to thee in prayer, and through prayer to receive into my life the strength and the guidance which only thou canst give. Forgive me for the pride and the presumption that make me continue to struggle to manage my own affairs to the exhaustion of my body, the weariness of my mind, the trial of my faith. In a moment like this I know that thou couldst have worked thy good in me with so little strain, with so little effort. And then to thee would have been given the praise and the glory. When I neglect to pray, mine is the loss. Forgive me, Lord. Amen.

—The Prayers of Peter Marshall

That he had always been governed by love; without selfish views; and that having resolved to make the love of God the end of all his actions, he had found reasons to be well satisfied with his method. That he was pleased when he could take up a straw from the ground for the love of God, seeking him only, and nothing else, not even his gifts.

That he had been long troubled in mind from a certain belief that he should be damned that all the people in the world could not have persuade him to the contrary; but that he had thus reasoned with himself about it: I engaged in a religious life only for the love of God, and I have endeavored to act only for him; whatever becomes of me, whether I be lost or saved, I will always continue to act purely for the love of God. I shall have this good at least, that till death I shall have done all that is in me to love him. That this trouble of mind had lasted four years, during which time he had suffered much; but that at last he had seen that this trouble arose from want of faith, and that since he had passed his life in perfect libertv and continual joy. That he had placed his sins betwixt him and God, as it were, to tell him that he did not deserve his favors, but that God still continued to bestow them in abundance…

That he expected, after the pleasant days God had given him, he should have his turn of pain and suffering,but that he was not uneasy about it, knowing very well that as he could do nothing of himself, God would not fail to give him the strength to bear it. That when an occasion of practising some virtue offered, he addressed himself to God, saying, Lord, I cannot do this unless thou enablest me; and that then he received strength more than sufficient. That when he had failed in his duty, he only confessed his fault, saying to God, I shall never do otherwise if you leave me to myself, it is you who must hinder my falling and mend what is amiss. That after this he gave himself no further uneasiness about it. That we ought to act with God in the greatest simplicity, speaking to him frankly and plainly, and imploring his assistance in our affairs, just as they happen. That God never failed to grant it, as he had often experienced.

–Brother Lawrence, The Practice of the Presence of God

Our Lord is sitting by the Temple watching all the people coming and going, putting their offerings into the box. Some of them were making quite a show of it, no doubt, so that everyone would know how much they had put in. But there, among them all, was a little old lady, rather shabbily dressed, who slipped in her twopence halfpenny when no one was looking. But the Lord saw her. And he got terribly excited about it. “She’s put in more than all the rest put together!” he exclaims.

This little old lady did not realise that she was doing anything spectacular; nothing could have been further from her mind. She did not want to draw attention to herself, because she knew that what she was giving was not worth very much, it was not going to repair the Temple roof or get them a new organ or even pay for the Boy Scouts’ Annual Outing. The Temple authorities might well think it was a confounded nuisance having to count all the small change put in by people like her. But she had given all she had, knowing that it was not much, knowing that she was not going to solve anyone’s problems. And surely the Lord recognised in her a kindred spirit. She was doing the same kind of thing that he was doing. He was not solving the world’s problems in any sense that the world could understand, he was not reforming society or abolishing poverty”the poor you will always have with you” was his comment on that (Mt. 26:11) he was not doing any of the things some modern Christians think he should have been doing. And many people considered him a nuisance. But he was giving himself, he was giving all he had got, he was giving his very life.

Blessed are the poor! How easily we take that always to mean somebody else. Yet if we want to be with God, we must learn to hear it as “blessed are we who are poor”, we who have not got anything very impressive to give to anybody, whose giving may very well be rather a nuisance, but who still have not given up giving. Who knows? Our giving of ourselves in all our poverty may one day bring some joy to somebody else who is poor, who is not calculating, not trying to repair a church roof. God invites us into this conspiracy of the poor, making himself its head, giving himself in poverty and weakness, knowing that if we will only receive that humble gift of his, it will transform everything. If we are prepared to be poor enough to learn and to appreciate the manner of God’s giving, we shall find in that poverty the seed of all perfection.

–Simon Tugwell, Prayer

O you, who are the light of the minds that know You, the life of the souls that love You, and the Strength of the thoughts that seek You; help us to know You, that we may truly love You, so to love You that we may fully serve You, whose service is perfect freedom; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

—The Gelasian Sacramentary