There are certainly times when we tell God things in prayer. We tell God our fears and desires. We tell God what we or others may need. We tell God of places and peoples in the world that need God's intervention.

Many of the Psalms invite us into this kind of praying. But we while the Bible gives us a warrant for such boldness before God, we must also take care that we don't invert the relationship. We can wrestle with God, fight with God, challenge God, but in the end we must always yield to God.

If our relationship with God were a sentence, God would be the subject performing the action and we are the object upon whom and within whom God acts. The Subject of prayer---the real Mover of prayer---is the Holy Trinity who prays in us.

So when we pray, we're not so much working to connect with God. We are, instead, working to remove everything that prevents us from the experience of intimate union which is the goal of our lives.

This is why silence is an essential part of prayer. In fact, silence is the highest form of prayer. In silence, all that competes with God for our attention is exposed and we must confront and release everything that stands in the way between us and the Beloved. We must even abandon even our piety, for piety---even the warmest feelings about God---can ending masquerading as God, hooking us to a manifestation that is still not God as God is.

In stillness and silence we release everything that prevents us from resting in God and listening in the depth of our hearts for that Voice that cannot assure us of our belovedness until we're no longer listening to any lesser voice or sound.

The Voice of the Beloved comes to us in the "sound of sheer silence" (1 Kings 19.12).

I'm leading a prayer seminar this Saturday in Turlock, California.  If you're in the area, please come. CLICK HERE for more information.

  • Saturday, June 25, 2011
  • 9:15am-3:00pm (registration opens at 8:45am)
  • Cost $10.00, includes lunch
  • Monte Vista Chapel - WJB Travertine Room

CLICK HERE to register

From my journals, Tuesday, November 6, 2007 I am again humiliated. It's not so much my sins I see but my poverty of love. I enter my heart but find it full of pride, anger, fear, resentment. Where is my Love, my Lord Jesus, who promises to dwell there? Was he ever there? He has vanished? Or, has Love gone deeper in, leading me on, deeper, deeper, past my ego's many layers?

So what am I to do?

Lament my sins?  The obstacles?  God's elusiveness?  My ego's expansiveness)?

There's nothing to be won by this---only the spiral into real despair.

No, instead, love still more. Follow the passion of your heart. Love leads you on; your heart must find the Beloved . . . and only Love can guide you along this twisting path. The saints testify that Love is the only true guide. You can trust them; they've been down this path and found what you seek.

I've stumbled upon a book that parallels my own teaching on prayer.  And since my own book is bogged down or delayed, I suggest you pick it up.  John Main (deceased) and I've read much the same historical material and come to similar conclusions and practices drawn from the wellspring of historic Christian spirituality. John MainFrom the Amazon.com review:

This is his classic book on how to practice contemplative prayer, or Christian meditation. Stepping aside from the busyness of our daily lives and being still in the presence of God is the key to discovering our true selves and knowing God as 'the ground of our being'. This book offers a twelve step programme in learning meditative prayer, but as the author says, it is not so much about mastering a set of techniques, or escaping from life's challenges and difficulties, or cultivating a self-conscious piety. Its purpose is to teach us how to be at peace with ourselves in order that we might let the presence of Christ flood our whole lives and our relationships.

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Here's a poem from 2008 envisioning the awakening that is prayer:

Dance With Me

And this is what I saw—

Leviathan leaping, full length, in radiant delight, up from the dark depths of Mystery.

The night sky, clear; the moon full, casting its silver light across the whale-fractured sea.

And then she crashes, full length. A million silver shards dancing their holy glee.

As she disappears again into the dark, silent depths, to soak in Thee.

Why then pray like some dead fish in this, God’s sea?

Dance, fly, play, plunge. That’s what prayer is meant to be.