Prayer is a daring venture into speech that juxtaposes our words with the sharply alive words that pierce and divide soul and spirit, joints and marrow, pitilessly exposing every thought and intention of the heart (Heb. 4:12-13; Rev. 1:16). If we had kept our mouths shut we would not have involved ourselves in such a relentlessly fearsome exposure. If we had been content to speak to the women and men and children in the neighborhood we could have gotten by with using words in ways that would have them thinking well of us while concealing what we preferred to keep to ourselves. But when we venture into prayer every word may, at any moment, come to mean just what it means and involve us with a holy God who wills our holiness. All we had counted on was some religious small talk, a little numinous gossip, and we are suddenly involved, without intending it and without having calculated the consequences, in something eternal.
Too often we think of prayer as an occasion to go shopping. We ask for this, we pray for that, we demand (although we never call it that) Divine Intervention to prevent something horrible. We do not think of it as communication. Even less do we consider listening.
For years, I have thought of prayer less as an activity than as a way of life. Recognizing the reality of the presence of God with me (do not ask me to explain this right now), I see little choice but to remember that, in a phrase, "the channel is always open." Prayer makes us vulnerable. We open ourselves to the possibility of risk. We might hear an answer - and by that I mean hear and answer not just figuratively but literally - we not only don't want to hear, but confounds our every expectation. The reality of God is annihilating, and we risk annihilation when we are confronted by the presence of God. This is the threat. Anyone who prays thinking that we are just mumbling phrases inside his or her head forgets that we are communicating, and communication is a two-way street.
Whether it's the whispered prayer in the dark before bed, or the cry of the heart in the face of tragedy or pain, or the thankfulness before a meal or some unexpected blessing, we must always be aware that at the other end is the source of life. At its heart, prayer seems impossible, foolish, but rarely do we think of it as dangerous. The next time you bow your head, or close your eyes, or just recite something in the silence of your heart, remember this: God hears, and God responds.
