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I have a good friend in England who is reading my book as his Lenten devotionals. I appreciate that. He's a deep thinker, a globally minded man who probes both small things yet thinks universally.

Recently, as part of an ongoing dialogue about things he may or may not agree with in the book, he about why I suggested that canned prayers don't lead to great personal spiritual depth. In the book I compare such systematic prayer practices to telling Barbara I love her versus an exclusive diet of Browning poems. The poems may work well on occasion, but if they are all I can muster, she may begin to wonder if I have my own feelings for her.
I also say that a scribbled home made Father's Day card from my grandsons, Isaac or Will, is far better to me than the most beautiful Hallmark card. Nothing against Hallmark at all, but that piece of colorful paper from them may hang on my wall for years. Brennan Manning says “A little child can not do a bad coloring; nor can a child of God do a bad prayer.”  

So, this morning while praying, I thought about my friend, Alan, and want to offer the following thoughts:



1) Prayer must be most of all a personal expression from me to my Maker. It doesn't have to be formal, poetic, profound or even logical, just as long as it's honest, honoring and humble. Since the Spirit makes intercession on our behalf, sometimes a simple groan or a one word prayer is enough to do the trick. (I especially enjoy the way I have fun with this process in the book.)



2) Prayer must always have a context. I believe that the focus of today's urgent need often provides all the context we need to pray purposefully. Sometimes, however, we have no urgent need and the microscope that moves us to pray with urgency becomes a telescope that causes us to simply ponder. The further away the moment is from urgent, the more we tend to wander and need some form of contextual structure.



3) "Canned" prayers and prayer structures/systems often provide such context. I say in the book that we often feel like sailors who hit the doldrums and have no wind to move the ship so they have to get down and row until the wind returns. Using the words of others or following closely to a liturgical prayer system is fine when it's needed, but, it's not the best for developing an ongoing personal relationship with the Almighty.


I included a number of prayer systems in the book's appendices, including one of my own that I call "A Cognitive Approach To Praying." There's also reference to the ancient system called Lectio Divina, and the system used by St. John of the Cross to prime the pump when his spiritual experience got dry. 

A good way to think of prayer systems is that they provide a framework for us to speak our minds and open our hearts to God. If, however, they dictate everything we say, they can become crutches that lead to ritual, not relationship.



I hope this stirs some good thoughts.
Jack

A Soul Mate!

"Contrarian thinking at it's best simply asks Is this true? It speaks up when the politically correct answer or conventional answer doesn't match reality - when things simply don't work the way everyone says they should."

Larry Osborne - "A Contrarian's Guide to Knowing God" Multnomah Press

MY TAKE Trusting in Tough Times by Jack C. Getz Font Size

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In these tough economic times, when almost everyone’s focus is on the sinking dollar and rising employment rates, Christians are hard–pressed to find the financial means to vigorously pursue their mission. That challenge is especially daunting for a movement like The Salvation Army, whose mission is to “…preach the gospel of Jesus Christ and to meet human needs in His name, without discrimination.” How can the Army achieve those lofty goals when even its most faithful supporters find themselves facing financial meltdown? The story of George Müeller, who lived in even more troubled economic times than ours, provides an answer to that question that is also a challenge to deeper faith. Born in 1805 in Prussia, Müeller immigrated to England as a young man. As a seminary student, he was a playboy who had no time for the things of God, much less any notion of spending the next 70 years of his life in spiritual warfare on behalf of homeless street waifs. But by 1843, Müeller had turned his life over to God, and he responded to a sense of calling to feed and educate the masses of orphaned children who roamed the mean streets of Bristol, England. This was the era of the Industrial Revolution, whose dark side Charles Dickens painted vividly in his novels. The sad reality for thousands of children in that day was a life of poverty, thieving just to survive, and general hopelessness. Müeller began his outreach ministries with free meals and Bible stories for a few dozen children. Soon, demand grew to a point that his resources were strained, but his faith never wavered. As a young pastor and new husband, George and his wife tested God’s promises and refused to accept a salary. He learned that he could not trust himself and God at the same time, so he chose to put himself in a position to depend completely on God for all his needs and the needs of the children in his care. A few decades later, General William Booth of The Salvation Army demonstrated a similar faith when he said: “The promises of God are sure, if only you will believe.” Müeller accomplished his work in relative silence. He didn’t use mail campaigns, Christmas kettles, or development professionals. Amazingly, his only method was fervent prayer. For years the Müellers lived by just two principles: One, live completely by faith. Two, never tell anyone but God about financial or physical needs. Yet in the multiple facilities Müeller ran, no child ever missed a meal. The numbers associated with Müeller’s ministry are staggering by any standard. It is estimated that during 50 years of providing critical daily services to children, he raised the equivalent of about $180 million and touched the lives of more than 120,000 orphans. In his 1898 obituary in The Daily Telegraph, Müeller was called “the robber of the streets,” not because he was a thief, but because he was said to have “robbed the cruel streets of thousands of victims, the gaols [jails] of thousands of felons, and the workhouses of thousands of helpless waifs.” Like Müeller, The Salvation Army has always trusted God to provide. The record of how God has blessed and multiplied the Salvation Army’s “loaves and fishes” is nothing short of miraculous. And it is humbling to think that even though Army polices discourage paid advertising, the Army has always had enough, and usually more than enough, to accomplish what is needed most. Some might believe the current financial crisis is God’s way of cleansing the church from pride and self–reliance so that we will learn to trust Him more. That may or may not be the case, but in such times, everyone is forced to re–evaluate their priorities and realign their methods. Perhaps this is a good time, possibly the best time, to adjust the balance of trust that will allow God to do what He has always done: provide for His work through the ministry of those who trust Him, especially in tough times. The expanded work of George Müeller continues today through The Müeller Charitable Trust in Bristol, England. This article was published in Priority! Magazine. Read my latest article in the current issue.  Google it!