Effective Prayer
My friend Kevin died of cancer on Saturday, but he wasn’t just my friend. He had a lot of friends—praying friends—who are godly, righteous people. Certainly hundreds, if not several thousand souls were imploring God to heal Kevin.
James writes, “The effective prayer of a righteous man can accomplish much” (5:16 b), which begs the question: Did Kevin not have any—or whatever the requisite number is—of righteous people praying for his healing?
A friend from another state called on Sunday to report that during their church service the pastor reported that John’s struggle to beat his cancer was progressing toward victory. The cancer in his brain was gone! Other cancer indicators had declined by 50%. “Keep praying,” the pastor said. “Your prayers are working.”
I’m sad about Kevin. I’m happy to hear about John.
But why are the righteous people praying for John experiencing success and the righteous people who prayed for Kevin suffering defeat?
Part of the answer lies in this: the definition of “accomplishes much,” from the James quotation.
Someone we love, like Kevin, is diagnosed with a dread ill and we presume God wishes him healed. We pray, and we assemble teams of pray-ers, and we pray fervent supplications for what we deem in Kevin’s best interest and our preference. One outcome is that God concurs with our request for healing and Kevin is returned to health. Another outcome, and one more troubling, is that God is not paying attention to Kevin’s plight. However, our prayers get His attention and His healing hand moves. Still more troubling is the perspective of a God who plays favorites, or is capricious. Kevin dies. John lives.
But the deal is, all of these theological perspectives are bad options. They are not ideal because each depends upon you and me to get the request right, to instruct God accordingly, and manage outcomes that dictate and inform eternity and eternal well-being.
What if accomplishing Kevin’s healing is not on God’s agenda? In other words, in His sovereignty what if God knows healing Kevin is a bad plan, or not the best plan, or not in Kevin’s best interest, or healing him does not advance our benefit and His glory, or is shortsighted in the long view of eternity, or undermines Kevin’s reign with God, and ours as well for that matter?
Sometimes when we pray, and do so fervently and without doubt—especially when under duress—we presume God agrees with our assessment that healing is the right and best thing. But then, when Kevin dies and John lives, we question our fervor, our righteousness, and God’s fairness. When we are disappointed in prayer, we are vulnerable to assuming we didn’t try hard enough, pray long enough, or assemble a formidable enough team to storm the gates of heaven and secure Kevin’s healing. The alternative is that we are left with a God we would rather avoid.
And the devil has a field day in our disillusioned souls.
So why pray at all? If God is going to do what He’s going to do regardless of our prayers, no matter how effective, what’s the point?
At first glance, it would appear we should carefully define “accomplish much,” and once done, then pray successfully in agreement with God’s will and enjoy the control we derive by discerning the mind of God. I’m not buying that. To begin with, it means I must be omniscient. Additionally, when I pray like that it feels like I’m negotiating a deal, like buying a used car or a rug from some Turkish merchant.
When confronted with Kevin’s cancer nine months ago, I went to my place of prayer: the streets in my neighborhood. I prayed, and said, “Father, what are you thinking?” I didn’t wait for His answer. In my shock and dismay, I moved directly to telling God the outcome I desired with this bleak diagnosis. On this went: “Father, what are you thinking?”—but no break to let God answer, before—“Let me tell you what I’m thinking.”
I was persuasive. I asked for favors, pleaded for mercy, and bargained for healing. I hammered on the gates of heaven. I cried. I wailed. When I saw Kevin’s pain, I cursed cancer, dreaded grievous loss, and then prayed more fervently.
You know what? This is typical, normal behavior for a friend who has gotten shocking, unpalatable news. It’s the rough equivalent of running around in a panic when the skillet on the stove catches fire.
In time, my initial shock calmed. Again I retreated to the streets of my neighborhood and said, “Father, what are you thinking?” Then, I was quiet. I waited, listening for His reply. Then, back and forth we went in dialogue about the concern at hand: Kevin’s health and the extenuating issues. This is the rough equivalent of realizing the skillet is on fire, gaining my wits, and managing the situation.
Here is my conviction regarding complex issues like cancer: Father wants us to tell Him what is on our mind. He wants to hear from us without edit. I believe He longs for an honest, forthright conversation with us. But take note: Conversation is a dialogue, not a monologue. If I do all the talking when God and I get together, we don’t get nearly as much accomplished as when we communicate.
Prayer is a dialogue.
I just hung up the phone from talking to my friend, Beau. Man-to-man, friend-to-friend, adult-to-adult, Beau and I discussed our loss with Kevin’s passing. Back and forth our conversation went: talk, listen; talk, listen. That’s how dialogue works. One way communication is called a sermon, or a lecture. For the most part, sermons and lectures are not very effective forms of communication. Interaction, on the other hand, is much more effective, meaningful, and powerful. This is what God desires. It is what we are equipped to do. It is what bonds us together.
Prayer is a dialogue. God, in Christ, made us righteous people so He could interface with us. The seizing of that reality affords us the effective ability to communicate with God. And make no mistake, that communication is a two-way street—a dialogue. This “accomplishes much.”
Our prayers regarding Kevin’s cancer were not in vain. How can visiting with God about a subject that is important, like Kevin, be considered pointless? Were you not inspired as you considered Kevin’s life? Were you not challenged to walk more closely with God as a result of discussing Kevin’s life with God and others? Are you not a better person after discussing Kevin with God?
I certainly am, and in this way, my prayer did “accomplish much.” Effective prayer is not about Kevin or John or cancer or healing. The accomplishment is defined by God, and the only way to discover the definition, is to discuss it with God.
Not my will, but yours be done, please.
Do I miss Kevin? Terribly. Would I bring him back if I could? Not in a million years. Am I still discussing Kevin’s life and death with God in prayer? You better believe it.
We should not conclude without adding that mutual respect is the crucial ingredient in the sauce of healthy dialogue. I respect you and what you are communicating. You respect me and what I’m voicing.
This means active listening in order to understand: “Tell me more about that, please.” “I hear you saying…” and then you verbalize back what you’ve heard. “Where does that leave you?” “How do you feel about that?” Each of these lines is active listening in that each activates continued and deepening conversation.
And mutual respect isn’t only essential in our communication with each other. Mutual respect is a key component of prayer as well. God is anxious for you to actively listen to what He is saying, and if you pay attention, He makes a practice of actively listening to you when you pray.
But at some point in your communication with God, your respect for Him as King of kings and Lord of lords states, “Thank you for discussing this matter with me Father God. Now. I must declare, not my will in these things, but yours be done, please. I respect you. I trust you.”
Note: Recently I was privileged to sit down with Rick Fry to discuss the breakup between Paul and Barnabas. This examination provided an entry point for Rick and me to explore why divisions occur in the Body of Christ. The first episode of our interview is at this link.