An Unknown Christian

The Kneeling Christian

Chapter 7
Must I Agonize?

PRAYER is measured, not by time, but by intensity. Earnest
souls who read of men like Praying Hyde are today anxiously
asking, “Am I expected to pray like that?”

They hear of others who sometimes remain on their knees
before God all day or all night, refusing food and scorning
sleep, whilst they pray and pray and pray. They naturally
wonder, “Are we to do the same? Must all of us follow
their examples?” We must remember that those men of
prayer did not pray by time. They continued so long in
prayer because they could not stop praying.

Some have ventured to think that in what has been said in
earlier chapters I have hinted that we must all follow in
their train. Child of God, do not let any such thought —
such fear? — distress you. Just be willing to do what He
will have you do — what He leads you to do. Think about
it; pray about it. We are bidden by the Lord Jesus to pray
to our loving Heavenly Father. We sometimes sing, “Oh,
how He loves!” And nothing can fathom that love.

Prayer is not given us as a burden to be borne, or an
irksome duty to fulfil, but to be a joy and power to which
there is no limit. It is given us that we “may find
grace to help us in time of need” (Heb. iv. 16, R.V.).
And every time is a “time of need.” “Pray
ye” is an invitation to be accepted rather than a
command to be obeyed. Is it a burden for a child to come to
his father to ask for some boon? How a father loves his
child, and seeks its highest good! How he shields that
little one from any sorrow or pain or suffering! Our
heavenly Father loves us infinitely more than any earthly
father. The Lord Jesus loves us infinitely more than any
earthly friend. God forgive me if any words of mine, on
such a precious theme as prayer, have wounded the hearts or
consciences of those who are yearning to know more about
prayer. “Your heavenly Father knoweth,” said our
Lord: and if He knows, we can but trust and not be afraid.

A schoolmaster may blame a boy for neglected homework, or
unpunctual attendance, or frequent absence; but the loving
father in the home knows all about it. He knows all about
the devoted service of the little laddie in the home
circle, where sickness or poverty throws so many loving
tasks in his way. Our dear, loving Father knows all about
us. He sees. He knows how little leisure some of us have
for prolonged periods of prayer.

For some of us God makes leisure. He makes us lie down
(Psa. xxiii. 2) that He may make us look up. Even then,
weakness of body often prevents prolonged prayer. Yet I
question if any of us, however great and reasonable our
excuses, spend enough thought over our prayers. Some of us
are bound to be much in prayer. Our very work demands it.
We may be looked upon as spiritual leaders; we may have the
spiritual welfare or training of others. God forbid that we
should sin against the Lord in ceasing to pray enough for
them (I Sam. xii. 23). Yes, with some it is our very
business — almost our life’s work-to pray, Others —

Have friends who give them pain,
Yet have not sought a friend in Him.

For them they cannot help praying. If we have the burden
of souls upon us we shall never ask, “How long need I
pray?”

But how well we know the difficulties which surround the
prayer-life of many! A little pile of letters lies before
me as I write. They are full of excuses, and kindly
protests, and reasonings it is true. But is that why they
are written? No! No! Far from it. In every one of them
there is an undercurrent of deep yearning to know God’s
will, and how to obey the call to prayer amid all the
countless claims of life.

Those letters tell of many who cannot get away from others
for times of secret prayer; of those who share even
bedrooms; of busy mothers, and maids, and mistresses who
scarcely know how to get through the endless washing and
cooking, mending and cleaning, shopping and visiting; of
tired workers who are too weary to pray when the day’s
work is done.

Child of God, our heavenly Father knows all about it. He
is not a taskmaster. He is our Father. if you have no time
for prayer, or no chance of secret prayer, why, just tell
Him all about it — and you will discover that you are
praying!

To those who seem unable to get any solitude at all, or
even the opportunity of stealing into a quiet church for a
few moments, may we point to the wonderful prayer-life of
St. Paul ? Did it ever occur to you that lie was in prison
when he wrote most of those marvelous prayers of his which
we possess? Picture him. He was chained to a Roman soldier
day and night, and was never alone for a moment. Epaphias
was there part of the time, and caught something of his
master’s passion for prayer. St. Luke may have been
there. What prayer-meetings! No opportunity for secret
prayer. No! but how much we owe to the uplifting of those
chained hands! You and I may be never, or rarely ever,
alone, but at least our hands are not fettered with chains,
and our hearts are not fettered, nor our lips.

Can we make time for prayer? I may be wrong, but my own
belief is that it is not God’s will for most of us —
and perhaps not for any of us — to spend so much time in
prayer as to injure our physical health through getting
insufficient food or sleep. With very many it is a physical
impossibility, because of bodily weakness, to remain long
in the spirit of intense prayer.

The posture in which we pray is immaterial. God will
listen whether we kneel, or stand, or sit, or walk, or
work.

I am quite aware that many have testified to the fact that
God sometimes gives special strength to those who curtail
their hours of rest in order to pray more. At one time the
writer tried getting up very early in the morning — and
every morning — for prayer and communion with God. After a
time he found that his daily work was suffering in
intensity and effectiveness, and that it was difficult to
keep awake during the early evening hours! But do we pray
as much as we might do? It is a lasting regret to me that I
allowed the days of youth and vigor to pass by without
laying more stress upon those early hours of prayer.

Now, the inspired command is clear enough: “Pray
without ceasing” (I Thess. v. 17). Our dear Lord said,
“Men ought always to pray, and not to faint” —
“and never lose heart” (Weymouth) (Luke xviii.
1).

This, of course, cannot mean that we are to be always on
our knees. I am convinced that God does not wish us to
neglect rightful work in order to pray. But it is equally
certain that we might work better and do more work if we
gave less time to work and more to prayer.

Let us work well. We are to be “not slothful in
business” (Rom. xii. 11). St. Paul says, “We
exhort you, brethren, that ye abound more and more; and
that ye. . . do your own business, and to work with your
hands. . . that ye may walk honestly . . . and have need of
nothing” (I Thess. iv. 11, 12). “If any will not
work, neither let him eat” (I Thess. iii. 10).

But are there not endless opportunities during every day
of “lifting, up holy hands” — or at least holy
hearts — in prayer to our Father? Do we seize the
opportunity, as we open our eyes upon each new day, of
praising and blessing our Redeemer? Every day is an Easter
day to the Christian. We can pray as we dress. Without a
reminder we shall often forget. Stick a piece of
stamp-paper in the corner of your looking-glass, bearing
the words, — “Pray without ceasing.” Try it. We
can pray as we go from one duty to another. We can often
pray at our work. The washing and the writing, the mending
and the minding, the cooking and the cleaning will be done
all the better for it.

Do not children, both young and old, work better and play
better when some loved one is watching? Will it not help us
ever to remember that the Lord Jesus is always with us,
watching? Aye, and helping. The very consciousness of His
eye upon us will be the consciousness of His power within
us.

Do you not think that St. Paul had in his mind this
habitual praying rather than fixed seasons of prayer when
he said, “The Lord is at hand” — i.e., is near
(Weymouth). “In nothing be anxious, but in everything,
by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your
requests be made known unto God” (Phil. iv. 5, 6)?
Does not “in everything” suggest that, as thing
after thing befalls us, moment by moment, we should then
and there make it a “thing” of prayer and praise
to the Lord Who is near? (Why should we limit this
“nearness” to the Second Advent?)

What a blessed thought: prayer is to a near-God. When our
Lord sent His disciples forth to work, He said, “Lo, I
am with you alway.”

Sir Thomas Browne, the celebrated physician, had caught
this spirit. He made a vow “to pray in all places
where quietness inviteth; in any house, highway or street;
and to know no street in this city that may not witness
that I have not forgotten God and my Savior in it; and that
no town or parish where I have been may not say the like.
To take occasion of praying upon the sight of any church
which I see as I ride about. To pray daily and particularly
for my sick patients, and for all sick people, under whose
care soever. And at the entrance into the house of the sick
to say, ‘The peace and the mercy of God be upon this
house.’ After a sermon to make a prayer and desire a
blessing, and to pray for the minister.”

But we question if this habitual communion with our
blessed Lord is possible unless we have times — whether
long or brief — of definite prayer. And what of these
prayer seasons? We have said earlier that prayer is as
simple as a little child asking something of its father.
Nor would such a remark need any further comment were it
not for the existence of the evil one.

There is no doubt whatever that the devil opposes our
approach to God in prayer, and does all he can to prevent
the prayer of faith. His chief way of hindering us is to
try to fill our minds with the thought of our needs, so
that they shall not be occupied with thoughts of God, our
loving Father, to Whom we pray. He wants us to think more
of the gift than of the Giver. The Holy Spirit leads us to
pray for a brother. We get as far as “O God, bless my
brother” — and away go our thoughts to the brother,
and his affairs, and his difficulties, his hopes and his
fears, and away goes prayer!

How hard the devil makes it for us to concentrate our
thoughts upon God! This is why we urge people to get a
realization of the glory of God, and the power of God, and
the presence of God, before offering up any petition. If
there were no devil there would be no difficulty in prayer,
but it is the evil one’s chief aim to make prayer
impossible. That is why most of us find it hard to
sympathize with those who profess to condemn what they call
“vain repetitions” and “much speaking”
in prayer — quoting our Lord’s words in His sermon on
the mount.

A prominent London vicar said quite recently, “God
does not wish us to waste either His time or ours with long
prayers. We must be business-like in our dealings with God,
and just tell Him plainly and briefly what we want, and
leave the matter there.” But does our friend think
that prayer is merely making God acquainted with our needs?
If that is all there is in it, why, there is no need of
prayer! “For your Father knoweth what things ye have
need of before ye ask him,” said our Lord when urging
the disciples to pray.

We are aware that Christ Himself condemned some “long
prayers” (Matt. xxiii. 14). But they were long prayers
made “for a pretense,” “for a show”
(Luke xx. 47). Dear praying people, believe me, the Lord
would equally condemn many of the “long prayers”
made every week in some of our prayer-meetings — prayers
which kill the prayer-meeting, and which finish up with a
plea that God would hear these “feeble
breathings,” or “unworthy utterings.”

But he never condemns long prayers that are sincere. Let
us not forget that our Lord sometimes spent long nights in
prayer. We are told of one of these — we do not know how
frequently they were (Luke vi. 12). He would sometimes rise
a “great while before day” and depart to a
solitary place for prayer (Mark i. 35). The perfect Man
spent more time in prayer than we do. It would seem an
undoubted fact that with God’s saints in all ages
nights of prayer with God have been followed by days of
power with men.

Nor did our Lord excuse Himself from prayer — as we, in
our ignorance, might think He could have done — because of
the pressing calls to service and boundless opportunities
of usefulness. After one of His busiest days, at a time
when His popularity was at its highest, just when everyone
sought His company and His counsel, He turned His back upon
them all and retired to a mountain to pray (Matt. xiv. 23).

We are told that once “great multitudes came together
to hear Him, and to be healed of their infirmities.”
Then comes the remark, “But Jesus himself constantly
withdrew into the desert, and there prayed” (Luke v.
15, 16, Weymouth). Why? Because He knew that prayer was
then far more potent than “service.”

We say we are too busy to pray. But the busier our Lord
was, the more He prayed. Sometimes He had no leisure so
much as to eat (Mark iii. 20); and sometimes He had no
leisure for needed rest and sleep (Mark vi. 31). Yet He
always took time to pray. If frequent prayer, and, at
times, long hours of prayer, were necessary for our Savior,
are they less necessary for us?

I do not write to persuade people to agree with me: that
is a very small matter. We only want to know the truth.
Spurgeon once said: “There is no need for us to go
beating about the bush, and not telling the Lord distinctly
what it is that we crave at His hands. Nor will it be
seemly for us to make any attempt to use fine language; but
let us ask God in the simplest and most direct manner for
just the things we want. . . . I believe in business
prayers. I mean prayers in which you take to God one of the
many promises which He has given us in His Word, and expect
it to be fulfilled as certainly as we look for the money to
be given us when we go to the bank to cash a check. We
should not think of going there, lolling over the counter
chattering with the clerks on every conceivable subject
except the one thing for which we had gone to the bank, and
then coming away without the coin we needed; but we should
lay before the clerk the promise to pay the bearer a
certain sum, tell him in what form we wished to take the
amount, count the cash after him, and then go on our way to
attend to other business. That is just an illustration of
the method in which we should draw supplies from the Bank
of Heaven.” Splendid!

But — ? By all means let us be definite in prayer; by all
means let us put eloquence aside — if we have any! By all
means let us avoid needless “chatter,” and come
in faith, expecting to receive.

But would the bank clerk pass me the money over the
counter so readily if there stood by my side a powerful,
evil-countenanced, well-armed ruffian whom he recognized to
be a desperate criminal waiting to snatch the money before
my weak hands could grasp it? Would he not wait till the
ruffian had gone? This is no fanciful picture. The Bible
teaches us that, in some way or other, Satan can hinder our
prayers and delay the answer. Does not St. Peter urge
certain things upon Christians, that their “prayers be
not hindered”? (I Peter iii. 7.) Our prayers can be
hindered. “Then cometh the evil one and snatcheth away
that which hath been sown in the heart” (Matt. xiii.
19, R.V.).

Scripture gives us one instance — probably only one out
of many — where the evil one actually kept back — delayed
— for three weeks an answer to prayer. We only mention
this to show the need of repeated prayer, persistence in
prayer, and also to call attention to the extraordinary
power which Satan possesses. We refer to Daniel x. 12, 13:
“Fear not, Daniel, for from the first day that thou
didst set thine heart to understand, and to humble thyself
before God, thy words were heard: and I am come for thy
word’s sake. But the prince of the kingdom of Persia
withstood me one and twenty days. But lo, Michael, one of
the chief princes, came to help me.”

We must not overlook this Satanic opposition and hindrance
to our prayers. If we were to be content to ask God only
once for some promised thing or one we deemed necessary,
these chapters would never have been written. Are we never
to ask again? For instance, I know that God willeth not the
death of a sinner. So I come boldly in prayer: “O God,
save my friend.” Am I never to ask for his conversion
again? George Muller prayed daily — and oftener — for
sixty years for the conversion of a friend. But what light
does the Bible throw upon “business-like”
prayers? Our Lord gave two parables to teach persistence
and continuance in prayer. The man who asked three loaves
from his friend at midnight received as many as he needed
“because of his importunity” — or persistency
(Weymouth), i.e., his “shamelessness,” as the
word literally means (Luke xi. 8). The widow who
“troubled” the unjust judge with her
“continual coming” at last secured redress. Our
Lord adds “And shall not God avenge his elect which
cry unto him day and night, and he is longsuffering over
them?” (Luke xviii. 7, R.V.)

How delighted our Lord was with the poor Syro-Phoenician
woman who would not take refusals or rebuffs for an answer!
Because of her continual request He said: “O woman,
great is thy faith: be it unto thee even as thou wilt”
(Matt. xv. 28). Our dear Lord, in His agony in Gethsemane,
found it necessary to repeat even His prayer. “And he
left them and went away and prayed a third time, saying
again the same words” (Matt. xxvi. 44). And we find
St. Paul, the apostle of prayer, asking God time after time
to remove his thorn in the flesh. “Concerning this
thing,” says he, “I besought the Lord thrice that
it might depart from me” (II Cor. xii. 8).

God cannot always grant our petitions immediately.
Sometimes we are not fitted to receive the gift. Sometimes
He says “No” in order to give us something far
better. Think, too, of the days when St. Peter was in
prison. If your boy was unjustly imprisoned, expecting
death at any moment, would you — could you — be content
to pray just once, a “business-like” prayer:
“O God, deliver my boy from the hands of these
men”? Would you not be very much in prayer and very
much in earnest?

This is how the Church prayed for St. Peter. “Long
and fervent prayer was offered to God by the Church on his
behalf” (Acts xii. 5, Weymouth). Bible students will
have noticed that the A.V. rendering, “without
ceasing,” reads “earnestly” in the R.V. Dr.
Torrey points out that neither translation gives the full
force of the Greek. The word means literally
“stretched-out-ed-ly.” It represents the soul on
the stretch of earnest and intense desire. Intense prayer
was made for St. Peter. The very same word is used of our
Lord in Gethsemane: “And being in an agony he prayed
more earnestly, and his sweat became as it were great drops
of blood falling down upon the ground” (Luke xxii.
44).

Ah! there was earnestness, even agony in prayer. Now, what
about our prayers? Are we called upon to agonize in prayer?
Many of God’s dear saints say “No!” They
think such agonizing in us would reveal great want of
faith. Yet most of the experiences which befell our Lord
are to be ours. We have been crucified with Christ, and we
are risen with Him. Shall there be, with us, no travailing
for souls?

Come back to human experience. Can we refrain from
agonizing in prayer over dearly beloved children who are
living in sin? I question if any believer can have the
burden of souls upon him — a passion for souls — and not
agonize in prayer.

Can we help crying out, like John Knox, “O God, give
me Scotland or I die”? Here again the Bible helps us.
Was there no travail of soul and agonizing in prayer when
Moses cried out to God, “O, this people have sinned a
great sin, and have made gods of gold. Yet now, if thou
wilt forgive their sin –; and if not, blot, me, I pray
thee, out of thy book”? (Exod. xxxii. 32.)

Was there no agonizing in prayer when St. Paul said,
“I could wish” — (“pray,” R.V. marg.)
— “that I myself were anathema from Christ for my
brethren’s sake”? (Rom. ix. 3.)

We may, at all events, be quite sure that our Lord, Who
wept over Jerusalem, and Who “offered up prayers and
supplications with strong crying and tears” (Heb. v.
7), will not be grieved if He sees us weeping over erring
ones. Nay, will it not rather gladden His heart to see us
agonizing over the sin which grieves Him? In fact, may not
the paucity of conversions in so many a ministry be due to
lack of agonizing in prayer?

We are told that “As soon as Zion travailed she
brought forth her children” (Isa. lxvi. 8). Was St.
Paul thinking of this passage when he wrote to the
Galatians, “My little children, of whom I am again in
travail until Christ be formed in you”? (Gal. iv. 19.)
And will not this be true of spiritual children? Oh, how
cold our hearts often are! How little we grieve over the
lost! And shall we dare to criticise those who agonize over
the perishing? God forbid! No; there is such a thing as
wrestling in prayer. Not because God is unwilling to
answer, but because of the opposition of the
“world-rulers of this darkness” (Eph. vi. 12,
R.V.).

The very word used for “striving” in prayer
means “a contest.” The contest is not between God
and ourselves. He is at one with us in our desires. The
contest is with the evil one, although he is a conquered
foe (I John iii. 8). He desires to thwart our prayers.

“We wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against
principalities, against the world-rulers of this darkness,
against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly
places” (Eph. vi. 12). We, too, are in these
“heavenly places in Christ” (Eph. i. 3); and it
is only in Christ that we can be victorious. Our wrestling
may be a wrestling of our thoughts from thinking
Satan’s suggestions, and keeping them fixed on Christ
our Savior — that is, watching as well as praying (Eph.
vi. 18); “watching unto prayer.”

We are comforted by the fact that “the Spirit helpeth
our infirmities: for we know not how to pray as we
ought” (Rom. viii. 26) How does the Spirit
“help” us, teach us, if not by example as well as
by precept? How does the Spirit “pray”? “The
Spirit Himself maketh intercession for us with groanings
which cannot be uttered (Rom. viii. 26). Does the Spirit
“agonize” in prayer as the Son did in Gethsemane?

If the Spirit prays in us, shall we not share His
“groanings” in prayer? And if our agonizing in
prayer weakens our body at the time, will angels come to
strengthen us, as they did our Lord? (Luke xxii. 43.) We
may, perhaps, like Nehemiah, weep, and mourn, and fast when
we pray before God (Neh. i. 4). “But,” one asks,
“may not a godly sorrow for sin and a yearning desire
for the salvation of others induce in us an agonizing which
is unnecessary, and dishonoring to God?”

May it not reveal a lack of faith in God’s promises?
Perhaps it may do so. But there is little doubt that St.
Paul regarded prayer — at least sometimes — as a conflict
(see Rom. xv. 30). In writing to the Colossian Christians
he says: “I would have you know how greatly I strive
for you . . . and for as many as have not seen my face in
the flesh; that their hearts may be comforted” (Col.
ii. 1, 2). Undoubtedly he refers to his prayers for them.

Again, he speaks of Epaphras as one who is “always
striving for you in his prayers, that ye may stand perfect,
and fully assured in all the will of God” (Col. iv.
12).

The word for “strive” is our word
“agonize,” the very word used of our Lord being
“in an agony” when praying Himself (Luke xxii.
44).

The apostle says again, Epaphras “hath much labor for
you,” that is, in his prayers. St. Paul saw him
praying there in prison, and witnessed his intense striving
as he engaged in a long, indefatigable effort on behalf of
the Colossians. How the Praetorian guard to whom St. Paul
was chained must have wondered — yes, and have been deeply
touched — to see these men at their prayers. Their
agitation, their tears, their earnest supplications as they
lifted up chained hands in prayer must have been a
revelation to him! What would they think of our prayers?

No doubt St. Paul was speaking of his own custom when he
urged the Ephesian Christians and others “to
stand,” “with all prayer and supplication,
praying at all seasons in the Spirit, and watching
thereunto in all perseverance and supplication for all
saints, and on my behalf . . . an ambassador in
chains.” (Eph. vi. 18-20). That is a picture of his
own prayer-life, we may be sure.

So then prayer meets with obstacles, which must be prayed
away. That is what men mean when they talk about praying
through. We must wrestle with the machinations of Satan. It
may be bodily weariness or pain, or the insistent claims of
other thoughts, or doubt, or the direct assaults of
spiritual hosts of wickedness. With us, as with St. Paul,
prayer is something of a “conflict,” a
“wrestle,” at least sometimes, which compels us
to “stir” ourselves up “to lay hold on
God” (Isa. Ixiv. 7). Should we be wrong if we ventured
to suggest that very few people ever wrestle in prayer? Do
we? But let us never doubt our Lord’s power and the
riches of His grace.

The author of The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life
told a little circle of friends, just before her death, of
an incident in her own life. Perhaps I may be allowed to
tell it abroad. A lady friend who occasionally paid her a
visit for two or three days was always a great trial, a
veritable tax upon her temper and her patience. Every such
visit demanded much prayer-preparation. The time came when
this “critical Christian” planned a visit for a
whole week! She felt that nothing but a whole night of
prayer could fortify her for this great testing. So,
providing herself with a little plate of biscuits, she
retired in good time to her bedroom, to spend the night on
her knees before God, to beseech Him to give her grace to
keep sweet and loving during the impending visit. No sooner
had she knelt beside her bed than there flashed into her
mind the words of Phil. iv. 19: “God shall supply all
your need according to His riches in glory by Christ
Jesus.” Her fears vanished. She said, “When I
realized that, I gave Him thanks and praised Him for His
goodness. Then I jumped into bed and slept the night
through. My guest arrived the next day, and I quite enjoyed
her visit.

No one can lay down hard and fast rules of prayer, even
for himself. God’s gracious Holy Spirit alone can
direct us moment by moment. There, however, we must leave
the matter. God is our judge and our Guide. But let us
remember that prayer is a many-sided thing. As Bishop Moule
says, “True prayer can be uttered under innumerable
circumstances.” Very often

Prayer is the burden of a sigh
The falling of a tear,
The upward glancing of an eye
When none but God is near.

It may be just letting your request be made known unto God
(Phil. iv. 6). We cannot think that prayer need always be a
conflict and a wrestle. For if it were, many of us would
soon become physical wrecks, suffering from nervous
breakdown, and coming to an early grave.

And with many it is a physical impossibility to stay any
length of time in a posture of prayer. Dr. Moule says:
“Prayer, genuine and victorious, is continually
offered without the least physical effort or disturbance.
It is often in the deepest stillness of soul and body that
it wins its longest way. But there is another side of the
matter. Prayer is never meant to be indolently easy,
however simple and reliant it may be. It is meant to be an
infinitely important transaction between man and God. And
therefore, very often . . . it has to be viewed as a work
involving labor, persistence, conflict, if it would be
prayer indeed.”

No one can prescribe for another. Let each be persuaded in
his own mind how to pray, and the Holy Spirit will inspire
us and guide us how long to pray. And let us all be so full
of the love of God our Savior that prayer, at all times and
in all places, may be a joy as well as a means of grace.

Shepherd Divine, our wants relieve
In this and every day;
To all Thy tempted followers give
The power, to watch and pray.
The spirit of interceding grace
Give us the faith to claim;
To wrestle till we see Thy face
And know Thy hidden Name.

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