An Unknown Christian

The Kneeling Christian

Chapter 12
Who May Pray?

IT is only two centuries ago that six undergraduates were
expelled from the University of Oxford solely because they
met together in each other’s rooms for extempore
prayer! Whereupon George Whitefield wrote to the
Vice-Chancellor, “It is to be hoped that, as some have
been expelled for extempore praying, we shall hear of some
few others of a contrary stamp being expelled for extempore
swearing.” Today, thank God, no man in our land is
hindered by his fellow-men from praying. Any man may pray
— but has every man a right to pray? Does God listen to
anyone ?

Who may pray? Is it the privilege — the right — of all
men? Not everyone can claim the right to approach the King
of our realm. But there are certain persons and bodies of
people who have the privilege of immediate access to our
sovereign. The Prime Minister has that privilege. The
ancient Corporation of the City of London can at anytime
lay its petition at the feet of the King. The ambassador of
a foreign power may do the same. He has only to present
himself at the gate of the palace of the King, and no power
can stand between him and the monarch. He can go at once
into the royal presence and present his request. But none
of these has such ease of access and such loving welcome as
the Kings own son.

But there is the King of kings — the God and Father of us
all. Who may go to Him? Who may exercise this privilege —
yes, this power — with God? We are told — and there is
much truth in the remark — that in the most skeptical man
or generation prayer is always underneath the surface,
waiting. Has it the right to come forth at anytime? In some
religions it has to wait. Of all the millions in India
living in the bondage of Hinduism, none may pray except the
Brahmins! A millionaire merchant of any other caste must
perforce get a Brahmin — often a mere boy at school! — to
say his prayers for him.

The Mohammedan cannot pray unless he has learned a few
phrases in Arabic, for his “god” only hears
prayers offered in what they believe to be the holy
language. Praise be to God, no such restrictions of caste
or language stand between us and our God. Can any man,
therefore, pray?

Yes, you reply, anyone. But the Bible does not say so.
Only a child of God can truly pray to God. Only a son can
enter His presence. It is gloriously true that anyone can
cry to Him for help — for pardon and mercy. But that is
scarcely prayer. Prayer is much more than that. Prayer is
going into “the secret place of the Most High,”
and abiding under the shadow of the Almighty (Ps. xci. 1).
Prayer is a making known to God our wants and desires, and
holding out the hand of faith to take His gifts. Prayer is
the result of the Holy Spirit dwelling within us. It is
communion with God. Now, there can scarcely be communion
between a king and a rebel. What communion hath light with
darkness? (II Cor. vi. 14.) In ourselves we have no right
to pray. We have access to God only through the Lord Jesus
Christ (Eph. iii. 18, ii. 12).

Prayer is much more than the cry of a drowning man — of a
man sinking in the whirlpool of sin: “Lord, save me! I
am lost! I am undone! Redeem me! Save me!” Anyone can
do this, and that is a petition which is never unanswered,
and one, if sincere, to which the answer is never delayed.
For “man cannot be God’s outlaw if he would.”
But that is not prayer in the Bible sense. Even the lions,
roaring after their prey, seek their meat from God; but
that is not prayer.

We know that our Lord said, “Everyone that asketh
receiveth” (Matt. vii. 8). He did say so, but to whom?
He was speaking to His disciples (Matt. v. 1, 2). Yes,
prayer is communion with God: the “home-life” of
the soul, as one describes it. And I much question whether
there can be any communion with Him unless the Holy Spirit
dwells in the heart, and we have “received” the
Son, and so have the right to be called “children of
God” (John i. 12).

Prayer is the privilege of a child. Children of God alone
can claim from the heavenly Father the things which He hath
prepared for them that love Him. Our Lord told us that in
prayer we should call God “our Father.” Surely
only children can use that word? St. Paul says that it is
“because ye are sons God sent forth the Spirit of His
Son into our hearts, crying, ‘Abba, Father'”
(Gal. iv. 6). Is this what was in God’s mind when, in
dealing with Job’s “comforters,” He said,
“My servant Job shall pray for you; for him will I
accept”? (Job xlii. 8.) It looked as if they would not
have been “accepted” in the matter of prayer. But
as soon as one becomes a “son of God” he must
enter the school of prayer. “Behold, he prayeth,”
said our Lord of a man as soon as he was converted. Yet
that man had “said” prayers all his life (Acts
ix. 11). Converted men not only may pray, but must pray —
each man for himself, and, of course, for others. But,
unless and until we can truthfully call God
“Father,” we have no claim to be treated as
children — as “sons,” “heirs of God and
joint heirs with Christ” — no claim at all. Do you
say this is hard? Nay, surely it is natural. Has a
“child” no privileges?

But do not misunderstand me. This does not shut any man
out of the kingdom of heaven. Anyone, anywhere, .can cry,
“God be merciful to me, a sinner!” Any man who is
outside the fold of Christ, outside the family of God,
however bad he may be, or however good he thinks he is, can
this very moment become a child of God, even as he reads
these words. One look to Christ in faith is sufficient
“Look and live.” God did not even say
“see” — He says just look! Turn your face to
God.

How did those Galatian Christians become “sons of
God”? By faith in Christ. “For ye are all sons of
God through faith in Christ Jesus” (Gal. iii. 26).
Christ will make any man a son of God by adoption and grace
the moment he turns to Him in true repentance and faith.
But we have no rightful claim even upon God’s
providence unless we are His children. We cannot say with
any confidence or certainty, “I shall not want,”
unless we can say, with confidence and certainty, “The
Lord is my Shepherd.”

A child, however, has a right to his father’s care,
and love, and protection, and provision. Now, a child can
only enter a family by being born into it. We become
children of God by being “born again,” “born
from above” (John iii. 3, 5). That is, by believing on
the Lord Jesus Christ (John iii. 16).

Having said all this as a warning, and perhaps as an
explanation why some people find prayer an utter failure,
we hasten to add that God often hears and answers prayer
even from those who have no legal right to pray — from
those who are not His “children,” and may even
deny that He exists! The Gospels tell us of not a few
unbelievers who came to Christ for healing; and He never
sent one away without the coveted blessing — never. They
came as “beggars,” not as “children.”
And even if “the children must first be fed,”
these others received the crumbs — yea, and more than
crumbs — that were freely given.

So today God often hears the cry of unbelievers for
temporal mercies. One case well known to the writer may be
given as an illustration. My friend told me that he had
been an atheist many years. Whilst an infidel, he had been
singing for forty years in a church choir because he was
fond of music. His aged father became seriously ill two or
three years ago, and lay in great pain. The doctors were
helpless to relieve the sufferer. In his distress for his
father, the infidel choirman fell on his knees and cried,
“O God, if there is a God, show Thy power by taking
away, my father’s pain!” God heard the man’s
piteous cry, and removed the pain immediately. The
“atheist” praised God, and hurried off to his
vicar to find out the way of salvation! Today he is
out-and-out for Christ, giving his whole time to work for
his newly-found Savior. Yes, God is greater than His
promises, and is more willing to hear than we are to pray.

Perhaps the most striking of all “prayers” from
the lips of unbelievers is that recorded of Caroline Fry,
the author of Christ Our Example. Although possessed of
beauty, wealth, position and friends, she found that none
of them satisfied, and at length, in her utter misery, she
sought God. Yet her first utterance to Him was an
expression of open rebellion to and hatred of Him! Listen
to it — it is not the prayer of a “child”: —

“O God, if Thou art a God: I do not love Thee; I do
not want Thee; I do not believe there is any happiness in
Thee: but I am miserable as I am. Give me what I do not
seek; give me what I do not want. If Thou canst, make me
happy. I am miserable as I am. I am tired of this world; if
there is anything better, give it me.”

What a “prayer”! Yet God heard and answered. He
forgave the wanderer and made her radiantly happy and
gloriously fruitful in His service.

In even savage bosoms
There are longings, servings, yearnings
For the good they comprehend not.
And their feeble hands and helpless.
Groping blindly in the darkness,
Touch God’s right hand in the darkness,
And are lifted up and strengthened.

Shall we, then, alter our question a little, and ask, who
has a right to pray?” Only children of God in whom the
Holy Spirit dwells. But, even so, we must remember that no
man can come unashamed and with confidence to his Father in
heaven unless he is living as a son of God should live. We
cannot expect a father to lavish his favors upon erring
children. Only a faithful and sanctified son can pray with
the Spirit and pray with the understanding also (I Cor.
xiv. 15).

But if we are sons of God, nothing but sin can hinder our
prayers. We, His children, have the right of access to God
at any time, in any place. And He understands any form of
prayer. We may have a wonderful gift of speech pouring
itself out in a torrent of thanksgiving, petition, and
praise like St. Paul; or we may have the quiet, deep,
lover-like communion of a St. John. The brilliant scholar
like John Wesley and the humble cobbler like William Carey
are alike welcome at the throne of grace. Influence at the
court of heaven depends not upon birth, or brilliancy, or
achievement, but upon humble and utter independence upon
the Son of the King.

Moody attributed his marvelous success to the prayers of
an obscure and almost unknown invalid woman! And truly the
invalid saints of England could bring about a speedy
revival by their prayers. Oh, that all the shut-ins”
would speak out!

Do we not make a mistake in supposing that some people
have a “gift” of prayer? A brilliant Cambridge
undergraduate asked me if the life of prayer was not a
gift, and one which very few possessed? He suggested that,
just as not everyone was musical, so not everyone is
expected to be prayerful! George Muller was exceptional not
because he had a gift of prayer, but because he prayed.
Those who cannot “speak well,” as God declared
Aaron could, may labor in secret by intercession with those
that speak the word. We must have great faith if we are to
have great power with God in prayer, although God is very
gracious and oftentimes goes beyond our faith.

Henry Martyn was a man of prayer, yet his faith was not
equal to his prayers. He once declared that he “would
as soon expect to see a man rise from the dead as to see a
Brahmin converted to Christ.” Would St. James say,
“Let not that man think he shall receive anything of
the Lord”? (James i. 7.) Now, Henry Martyn died
without seeing one Brahmin accepting Christ as his Savior.
He used to retire, day by day, to a deserted pagoda for
prayer. Yet he had not faith for the conversion of a
Brahmin. A few months back there knelt in that very pagoda
Brahmins and Mohammedans from all parts of India, Burma and
Ceylon, now fellow-Christians. Others had prayed with
greater faith than Henry Martyn.

Who may pray? We may; but do we? Does our Lord look at us
with even more pathos and tenderness than when He first
uttered the words, and say, “Hitherto ye have asked
nothing in My name? Ask, and ye shall receive, that your
joy may be full” (John xvi. 24). If the dear Master
was dependent on prayer to make His work a power, how much
more are we? He sometimes prayed with “strong crying
and tears” (Heb. v. 7). Do we? Have we ever shed a
prayerful tear? Well might we cry, “Quicken us, and we
will call upon Thy name” (Ps. Ixxx. 18).

St. Paul’s exhortation to Timothy may well be made to
us all: “Stir up the gift of God which is in
thee” (II Tim. i. 6). For the Holy Spirit is
prayer’s great Helper. We are incapable of ourselves to
translate our real needs into prayer. The Holy Spirit does
this for us. We cannot ask as we ought. The Holy Spirit
does this for us. It is possible for unaided man to ask
what is for our ill. The Holy Spirit can check this. No
weak or trembling hand dare put in motion any mighty force.
Can I — dare I — move the Hand that moves the universe?
No! Unless the Holy Spirit has control of me.

Yes, we need Divine help for prayer — and we have it! How
the whole Trinity delights in prayer! God the Father
listens: the Holy Spirit dictates: the eternal Son presents
the petition — and Himself intercedes; and so the answer
comes down.

Believe me, prayer is our highest privilege, our gravest
responsibility, and the greatest power God has put into our
hands. Prayer, real prayer, is the noblest, the sublimest,
the most stupendous act that any creature of God can
perform.

It is, as Coleridge declared, the very highest energy of
which human nature is capable. To pray with all your heart
and strength — that is the last, the greatest achievement
of the Christian’s warfare on earth.

“LORD, TEACH US TO PRAY!”