By Jeff Gill
One of the areas of pastoral care I think I’m worst at is teaching people how to pray.
Part of the problem may be that people are hoping for a simpler method than I am able to offer. They’d like a “30 days couch to 5K” kind of step-by-step program, and honestly, I don’t think there is such a thing.
People are different, and I really don’t believe prayer is exactly the same for one person than another. Some of us pray better in motion than at rest, and I don’t see anything in scripture to say that’s a problem.
Walking prayer has a long tradition in spirituality, and it’s very different from having a chair and a cup of tea and quiet time with God in front of a window: which is a spiritual discipline I know has great value for some lovely people.
Prayer books, like the Anglican “Book of Common Prayer” going back to 1549 in England, have an honored place in many spiritual traditions. I do most frequently, I think, direct people to the Psalms in their Bibles; it’s both hymn book and prayer book, with a range of models for addressing God with one’s heart and mind.
Others strongly call for extemporaneous prayer as the most sincere, best form of personal prayer. I think those can be heartfelt, but I also know how “impromptu” prayers can turn into a familiar cycle of phrases and statements as unvarying as the pages of any old book.
One book I do often recommend, but not always (because people are different), is a very slim volume called “Beginning to Pray.” It was written in the 1970s in England by a Russian Orthodox archbishop, whose name is usually found in title and author listings as Anthony Bloom.
There’s no method outlined, really, in “Beginning to Pray.” Bloom tells stories about his journey to faith and spiritual practice, and the lessons come indirectly, inductively. His story is one of adventures only obliquely referenced as well, but he was a doctor before his ordination, serving in the French Resistance during World War II. He is familiar with tragedy and questions about God’s purpose, even existence, which you’ll also find I might add in the Psalms. But as a pastor and priest and bishop and finally a metropolitan in his tradition (something like a Catholic cardinal) he is still “Beginning to Pray.”
I tried years ago to write a pamphlet for local church use modeled on this little book, an even shorter treatment I titled “Praying on Asphalt.” But so much of prayer is like riding a bicycle; it’s the kind of thing you learn by doing. You fall down a bit, there’s no helping it, even with training wheels. And the real question becomes whether or not you get back up and try again after skinning a knee or scraping an elbow.
You don’t need a teacher or coach or an archbishop to tell you that if your praying is just asking for stuff, you may not be approaching the whole matter in the right way. On the other hand, your relationship with a parent may not be all it can be if you just come to them when you need help, but that doesn’t mean they don’t still love you. They’re just waiting for the relationship to develop and mature. That’s pretty much what the Bible says God is thinking as we muddle along, calling only occasionally and perfunctorily when we need something.
All of which makes me think of evangelism, but we’ll save that for another week.
—————
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he’s still beginning to pray, too. Tell him what resources helped you learn to pray at knapsack 77@gmail.com, or follow @Knap sack77 on Threads or Bluesky.
One of the areas of pastoral care I think I’m worst at is teaching people how to pray.
Part of the problem may be that people are hoping for a simpler method than I am able to offer. They’d like a “30 days couch to 5K” kind of step-by-step program, and honestly, I don’t think there is such a thing.
People are different, and I really don’t believe prayer is exactly the same for one person than another. Some of us pray better in motion than at rest, and I don’t see anything in scripture to say that’s a problem.
Walking prayer has a long tradition in spirituality, and it’s very different from having a chair and a cup of tea and quiet time with God in front of a window: which is a spiritual discipline I know has great value for some lovely people.
Prayer books, like the Anglican “Book of Common Prayer” going back to 1549 in England, have an honored place in many spiritual traditions. I do most frequently, I think, direct people to the Psalms in their Bibles; it’s both hymn book and prayer book, with a range of models for addressing God with one’s heart and mind.
Others strongly call for extemporaneous prayer as the most sincere, best form of personal prayer. I think those can be heartfelt, but I also know how “impromptu” prayers can turn into a familiar cycle of phrases and statements as unvarying as the pages of any old book.
One book I do often recommend, but not always (because people are different), is a very slim volume called “Beginning to Pray.” It was written in the 1970s in England by a Russian Orthodox archbishop, whose name is usually found in title and author listings as Anthony Bloom.
There’s no method outlined, really, in “Beginning to Pray.” Bloom tells stories about his journey to faith and spiritual practice, and the lessons come indirectly, inductively. His story is one of adventures only obliquely referenced as well, but he was a doctor before his ordination, serving in the French Resistance during World War II. He is familiar with tragedy and questions about God’s purpose, even existence, which you’ll also find I might add in the Psalms. But as a pastor and priest and bishop and finally a metropolitan in his tradition (something like a Catholic cardinal) he is still “Beginning to Pray.”
I tried years ago to write a pamphlet for local church use modeled on this little book, an even shorter treatment I titled “Praying on Asphalt.” But so much of prayer is like riding a bicycle; it’s the kind of thing you learn by doing. You fall down a bit, there’s no helping it, even with training wheels. And the real question becomes whether or not you get back up and try again after skinning a knee or scraping an elbow.
You don’t need a teacher or coach or an archbishop to tell you that if your praying is just asking for stuff, you may not be approaching the whole matter in the right way. On the other hand, your relationship with a parent may not be all it can be if you just come to them when you need help, but that doesn’t mean they don’t still love you. They’re just waiting for the relationship to develop and mature. That’s pretty much what the Bible says God is thinking as we muddle along, calling only occasionally and perfunctorily when we need something.
All of which makes me think of evangelism, but we’ll save that for another week.
—————
Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he’s still beginning to pray, too. Tell him what resources helped you learn to pray at knapsack 77@gmail.com, or follow @Knap sack77 on Threads or Bluesky.
