THE POWER OF PRAYER IN RELATION TO
OUTWARD CIRCUMSTANCES.
TEXT: MATT. xxvi. 36-46.
TO be a religious man and to pray are really one and the same thing. To join the thought of God with every thought of any importance that occurs to us; in all our admiration of external nature, to regard it as the work of His wisdom; to take counsel with God about all our plans, that we may be able to carry them out in His name; and even in our most mirthful hours to remember His all-seeing eye; this is the prayer without ceasing to which we are called, and which is really the essence of true religion.
As to the benefit of prayer there can be no question. Surely, surely we have all experienced it! If our joys have often remained innocent, while others strayed into ways of sin; if our judgments have been mixed with gentleness and modesty, where pride and arrogance might most easily have gained the day; if we have been guarded from the evil which the judgment of man all too willingly excuses; then we owe this beneficent protection to the power of prayer.
Whether prayer has another kind of power in the world besides this, is a question that may easily be raised, and on which, if we are not to have our minds needlessly disturbed, we must come to some fixed belief.
If we are to bring all our thoughts into harmony with the thought of God, then we may and shall direct our wishes to certain things that we desire may occur to, or be averted from ourselves or others. Now if we regard the fulfilment of those wishes as the aim of our prayers, and connect with this idea what is promised in answer to prayer then, whether we consider this answer, as some do, as a distinct and infallible mark of the divine favour; or if we only believe, as very many do, that our prayers throw some additional weight into the scale; either way, what a narrowing of our mental condition accompanies such a belief; how it sets limits to the reasonableness of our wishes, and even to the humility of our hearts! For thus our minds are filled with hopes, the usually disappointing issues of which disturb our peace, and indeed may bring us into the most painful uncertainty as to our standing with God. Let us therefore consider together this aspect of prayer. The portion of the history of our Lord’s passion which we take as our subject is specially suitable for this purpose, as it shows us our Lord Himself engaged in the kind of prayer we are speaking of.
We will consider the nature of His prayer and its results: and you will certainly grant this beforehand, that the disciple is not above his master, and that we cannot expect more from our prayers than Christ obtained by His. For if the granting of our petitions is a token of God’s favour, then it would certainly have been given above all to Him in whom God was so supremely well-pleased. If it is only to be given when a man’s own strength is not equal to what he seeks, and when there is need of special help, then let me remind you how utterly the Saviour denied Himself all human succour, and what strict limits He set to Himself by the laws which He followed in all His actions. If the success of the prayer depends on the importance, or on the innocence of the thing desired, then you know that no trifle ever occupied His mind, and that though in all points tempted like us, He was without sin.
If, then, we cannot beforehand come to the conclusion that what Christ’s prayer effected ours can also effect, this at least is certain, that where His prayer could not prevail neither will ours succeed. This similarity of our position with His must be a soothing thought to us all, whatever may be the result of our inquiry; and therefore I ask the more confidently for your calm and unprejudiced attention.
We have here a direct view of the Saviour, before He fell into the hands of His enemies, in an agitated and anxious state of mind. He knew that there was a plot against His life, which was now on the point of being carried out; and plainly and calmly as He had before talked with His disciples of what was before Him, now that He was to enter on the conflict—now that all, as it came nearer, looked darker and more certain—the various feelings that such a prospect could not but excite in His mind threw Him into a state of stronger agitation than was at all usual with him. He sought solitude, and then fled from it; from prayer He went back to His disciples, who were in no condition to comfort or cheer Him; and from them He went back again to prayer. In circumstances like these, oven to those who are furthest from true piety, the old, half-forgotten memory of God comes back, and they turn to Him for help and deliverance; in such circumstances even those whose spirit is bravest, and who are absolutely submissive to the divine will, are yet not quite without anxiety or without wishes; and therefore, in this instance, the prayer of the Saviour took the form of one of the ordinary petitions of men for a result according to their desires.