In Answer to Prayer Part 1

In Answer to Prayer.

by W. Boyd Carpenter and Theodore L. Cuyler and John Watson and Knox Little and William Quarrier.

_PREFATORY NOTE_

_The following pages were originally written for the SUNDAY MAGAZINE.

In their present form it is hoped that they will reach another and not less appreciative public._

_Although Dr. Watson's contribution is of a character quite distinct from the other papers, it treats of a phase of religious experience so closely allied to that of answered prayer that it seems in the present collection to serve as a stage of transition from the sphere of the unseen and spiritual to that of the visible and tangible._

I

BY THE RIGHT REV.

W. BOYD CARPENTER, D.D.

LORD BISHOP OF RIPON

I have been asked to write some thoughts on answers to prayer. I am afraid that I cannot give from personal experience vivid and striking anecdotes such as others have chronicled. G.o.d does not deal with all alike, either in His gifts of faith or in those of experience. We differ also in the use we make of His gifts. But if I mistake not the object of these papers is not merely to gather together an array of startling experiences, but rather to unite in conference on the great subject of prayer and the answers to prayer.

No doubt every Christian spirit holds within his memory many cherished experiences of G.o.d's dealings with him, and these must touch the question of prayer. But the greater part of these experiences belong to that sanctuary life of the soul which, rightly or wrongly, we keep veiled from the world. There are some matters which would lose their charm if they were made public property. There is a reticence which is of faith, just as there may be a reticence which is of cowardice or unfaith. But like the little home treasures, which we only open to look upon when we are alone, so are some of the secret treasures of inward experiences. Nevertheless, none of us can have lived and thought without meeting with a sort of general confirmation or otherwise of the efficacy of prayer; and though I cannot chronicle positive and striking examples, I can say what I have known.

I have known men of a naturally timid and sensitive disposition who have grown at moments lion-like in courage, and they would tell you that courage came to them in prayer. I have known one man, who found himself face to face with a duty which was unexpected and from which he shrank with all his soul. I have known that such a one has prayed that the duty might not be pressed upon him, and yet that, if it were, he might be given strength to fulfil it. The duty still confronted him. In trembling and in much dismay he undertook it; and when the hour came, it found him calm and equable in spirit, neither dismayed nor demoralised by fears.

Such a one might not tell of great outward answers to prayer; but inward answers are not less real. At any rate, the Psalmist chronicled an answer such as this when he wrote: "In the day when I cried Thou answeredst me and strengthenedst me with strength in my soul" (Psalm cx.x.xviii. 3).

There is, further, a paradox of Christian experience which may be noted.

The soul which waits upon G.o.d finds out sooner or later that the prayers which seem to be unanswered are those which may be most truly answered.

For what is the answer to prayer which the praying heart looks for?

There is no true prayer without the proviso--Nevertheless not what I will, but what Thou wilt. In other words, there is no true prayer without reliance upon the greater wisdom and greater love of Him to whom we pray. Thus it is that G.o.d's answer may not be the answer as we looked for it. We form our expectations: they take shape from our poor little limited surroundings; but the prayer in its spirit may be wider than we imagine. To answer it according to our expectations might be not to answer it truly. To answer it according to our real meaning--_i.e._, according to our spiritual desire--must be the true answer to prayer.

One ill.u.s.tration will suffice. A man, pressed by difficulty and straitness, may pray that he may be moved to some place of greater freedom and ease. He thinks that he ought to move elsewhere. He prays for guidance and the openings of G.o.d's providence. In a short time a vacant post presents itself: he applies for it, it is just the thing he wished for. He continues his prayers. The post is given to another. His prayers have not been answered: such is his conclusion; but is not the answer really--"Not yet--not yet--wait awhile. My grace is sufficient for thee"? He waits; he leaves his life in G.o.d's hands. After an interval another opening occurs, and almost without an effort he is moved to the vacant place. It is this time, perhaps, not the kind of place he thought of; it is less interesting, it is more onerous, it fills him with fear as he undertakes its duties. He has prayed, but the answer came not as he wished or thought or hoped. The years go by. He looks back from the vantage-ground of distance. He can measure his life in better proportions. He sees now that the movements of his life have a deep meaning. He perceives that to have gone where he wished to have gone, and even where he prayed to be placed, would have been to miss some of the best experiences and highest trainings of this life. He begins to realise that there is not a spot which he has visited, not a place where he has toiled, which has not brought to him lessons that have been most helpful, nay, even needful, in his later life. He sees that G.o.d has sent him here or there to fit him for work which, unknown and unexpected in his earlier days, the future was to bring.

The least-answered prayer may be the most-answered. It is the realisation that experiences fit us for the duties of later life which yields to us the a.s.surance that in the deepest sense our seemingly disregarded prayers have been most abundantly remembered before G.o.d.

Thus, indeed, we can enter into the spirit of familiar words and acknowledge concerning each prayer that it is

"Goodness still, Which grants it or denies."

And so it may come to pa.s.s in later life that our specific pet.i.tions for this or that thing may grow fewer. We may realise more and more our own ignorance in asking. We may rely more and more on the divine wisdom in giving. Even in the case of others we may recognise the unwisdom of asking many things on their behalf. Our love would tenderly s.h.i.+eld them from rough winds and bitter hours. We pray that the divine love would spare them dark days; and yet, are the prayers well prayed? Does G.o.d not lead souls through darkness into light? Is not the Valley of the Shadow the precursor of the table of love which G.o.d spreads? Can the head be anointed with G.o.d's kingly oil which has not been bowed down in the darkness? Ah! how little we know! how short-sighted we are! And how great and full and strong G.o.d's love is! And, this being so, may not experience bring us larger trust and lesser prayers--not less, indeed, in intensity, not less in the wrestling of spirit; not less in the striving to reach nearer to G.o.d's will, but less in the number and specific character of our pet.i.tions? To put it another way--the pet.i.tions are fewer because the prayer is deeper and truer.

"Not my weak longings, Lord, fulfil, But rather do Thy perfect will, For I am blind and wish for things Which granted bring heart-festerings.

Let me but know that I am blind, Let me but trust Thee wondrous kind."

II

BY THE REV.

THEODORE L. CUYLER, D.D.

OF NEW YORK

All of G.o.d's mighty men and women have been mighty in prayer. When Martin Luther was in the mid-valley of his conflict with the man of sin he used to say that he could not get on without three hours a day in prayer. Charles G. Finney's grip on G.o.d gave him a tremendous grip on sinners' hearts. The greatest preacher of our times--Spurgeon--had pre-eminently the "gift of the knees;" the last prayer I ever heard him utter (at his own family wors.h.i.+p) was one of the most wonderful that I ever listened to; it revealed the hiding of his power. Abraham Lincoln once said: "I have been driven many times to my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go; my own wisdom and that of all around me seemed insufficient for the day."

But what is prayer? Has every prayer power with G.o.d? Let us endeavour to get some clear ideas on that point. Some people seem to regard prayer as the rehearsal of a set form of solemn words, learned largely from the Bible or a liturgy; and when uttered they are only from the throat outward. Genuine prayer is a believing soul's _direct converse with_ G.o.d. Phillips Brooks has condensed it into four words--a "true wish sent G.o.dward." By it, adoration, thanksgiving, confession of sin, and pet.i.tion for mercies and gifts ascend to the throne, and by means of it infinite blessings are brought down from heaven. The pull of our prayer may not move the everlasting throne, but--like the pull on a line from the bow of a boat--it may draw us into closer fellows.h.i.+p with G.o.d, and fuller harmony with His wise and holy will.

1. This is the first characteristic of the prayer that has power: "Delight thyself in the Lord and He shall give thee the desires of thy heart." A great many prayers are born of selfishness and are too much like dictation or command. None of G.o.d's promises are unconditional; and we have no such a.s.sets to our credit that we have a right to draw our cheques and demand that G.o.d shall pay them. The indispensable quality of all right asking is a _right spirit toward our heavenly Father_. When a soul feels such an entire submissiveness towards G.o.d that it delights in seeing Him reign, and His glory advanced, it may fearlessly pour out its desires; for then the desires of G.o.d and the desires of that sincere submissive soul will _agree_. G.o.d loves to give to them who love to let Him have His way; they find their happiness in the chime of their own desires with the will of G.o.d.

James and John once came to Jesus and made to Him the amazing request that He would place one of them on His right hand and the other on His left hand when He set up His imperial government at Jerusalem! As long as these self-seeking disciples sought only their own glory, Christ could not give them the askings of their ambitious hearts. By-and-by, when their hearts had been renewed by the Holy Spirit, and they had become so consecrated to Christ that they were in complete chime with Him, they were not afraid to pour out their deepest desires. James declares that, if we do not "ask _amiss_," G.o.d will "give liberally."

John declares that "whatsoever we ask, we receive of Him, because we keep His commandments and do those things that are pleasing in His sight." Just as soon as those two Christians found their supreme happiness in Christ and His cause they received the desires of their hearts.

2. The second trait of prevailing prayer is that it aims at a mark, and knows what it is after. When we enter a store or shop we ask the salesman to hand us the particular article we want. There is an enormous amount of pointless, prayerless praying done in our devotional meetings; it begins with nothing and ends nowhere. The model prayers mentioned in the Bible were short and right to the mark. "G.o.d be merciful to me a sinner!" "Lord, save me!" cries sinking Peter. "Come down, ere my child die!" exclaims the heart-stricken n.o.bleman. Old Rowland Hill used to say, "I like short, ejaculatory prayer; it reaches heaven before the devil can get a shot at it."

3. In the next place, the prayer that has power with G.o.d must be a _prepaid_ prayer. If we expect a letter to reach its destination we put a stamp on it; otherwise it goes to the Dead-letter Office. There is what may be called a Dead-prayer Office, and thousands of well-worded pet.i.tions get buried up there. All of G.o.d's promises have their conditions; we must comply with those conditions, or we cannot expect the blessings coupled with the promises. No farmer is such an idiot as to look for a crop of wheat unless he has ploughed and sowed his fields.

In prayer, we must first be sure that we are doing our part if we expect G.o.d to do His part. There is a legitimate sense in which every Christian should do his utmost for the answering of his own prayers.

When a certain venerable minister was called on to pray in a missionary convention he first fumbled in his pocket, and when he had tossed the coin into the plate he said, "I cannot pray until I have given something." He prepaid his prayer. For the Churches in these days to pray, "Thy kingdom come," and then spend more money on jewellery and cigars than in the enterprise of Foreign Missions, looks almost like a solemn farce. G.o.d has no blessings for stingy pockets. When I hear requests for prayer for the conversion of a son or daughter, I say to myself, How much is that parent doing to win that child for Christ? The G.o.dly wife who makes her daily life attractive to her husband has a right to ask G.o.d for the conversion of that husband; she is co-operating with the Holy Spirit, and prepaying her heart's request. G.o.d never defaults; but He requires that we prove our faith by our works, and that we never ask for a blessing that we are not ready to labour for, and to make any sacrifice to secure the blessing which our souls desire.

4. Another essential of the prayer that has power with G.o.d is that it be the prayer of faith, and be offered in the name of Jesus Christ.

"Whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, that will I do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son." The chief "wrestling" that we are to do is not with any reluctance on G.o.d's part; it is with the obstacles which sin and unbelief put in our pathway. What G.o.d orders we must submit to uncomplainingly; but we must never submit to what G.o.d can better. Never submit to be blocked in any pious purpose or holy undertaking if, with G.o.d's help, you can roll the blocks out of your pathway. The faith that works while it prays commonly conquers; for such faith creates such a condition of things that our heavenly Father can wisely hear and help us. Oh, what a magnificent epic the triumphs of striving, toiling, victorious faith make! The firmament of Bible story blazes with answers to prayer, from the days when Elijah unlocked the heavens on to the days when the pet.i.tions in the house of John Mark unlocked the dungeon, and brought liberated Peter into their presence. The whole field of providential history is covered with answered prayers as thickly as bright-eyed daisies cover our Western prairies. Find thy happiness in pleasing G.o.d, and sooner or later He will surely grant thee the desires of thy heart.

III

BY THE REV.

JOHN WATSON, M.A., D.D.

("IAN MACLAREN")

During the course of my ministry, and especially of recent years, I have been moved to certain actions for which there seemed no reason, and which I only performed under the influence of a sudden impulse. As often as I yielded to this inward guidance, and before the issue was determined, my mind had a sense of relief and satisfaction, and in all distinct and important cases my course was in the end most fully justified. With the afterlook one is most thankful that on certain occasions he was not disobedient to the touch of the unseen, and only bitterly regrets that on other occasions he was callous and wilful or was overcome by shame and timidity. What seem just and temperate inferences from such experiences will be indicated after they have been described, and it only remains for me to a.s.sure my readers that they are selected from carefully treasured memories, and will be given in as full and accurate detail as may be possible in circ.u.mstances which involve other people and one's own private life.

It was my privilege, before I came to Sefton Park Church, to serve as colleague with a venerable minister to whom I was sincerely attached and who showed me much kindness. We both felt the separation keenly and kept up a constant correspondence, while this good and affectionate man followed my work with spiritual interest and constant prayer. When news came one day that he was dangerously ill it was natural that his friend should be gravely concerned, and as the days of anxiety grew, that the matter should take firm hold of the mind. It was a great relief to learn, towards the end of a week, that the sickness had abated, and when, on Sunday morning, a letter came with strong and final a.s.surance of recovery the strain was quite relaxed, and I did my duty at morning service with a light heart. During the afternoon my satisfaction began to fail, and I grew uneasy till, by evening service, the letter of the morning counted for nothing.

After returning home my mind was torn with anxiety and became most miserable, fearing that this good man was still in danger and, it might be, near unto death. Gradually the conviction deepened and took hold of me that he was dying and that I would never see him again, till at last it was laid on me that if I hoped to receive his blessing I must make haste, and by-and-by that I had better go at once. It did not seem as if I had now any choice, and I certainly had no longer any doubt; so, having written to break two engagements for Monday, I left at midnight for Glasgow. As I whirled through the darkness it certainly did occur to me that I had done an unusual thing, for here was a fairly busy man leaving his work and going a long night's journey to visit a sick friend, of whose well-being he had been a.s.sured on good authority. By every evidence which could tell on another person he was acting foolishly, and yet he was obeying an almost irresistible impulse.

The day broke as we climbed the ascent beyond Moffat, and I was now only concerned lest time should be lost on the way. On arrival I drove rapidly to the well-known house, and was in no way astonished that the servant who opened the door should be weeping bitterly, for the fact that word had come from that very house that all was going well did not now weigh one grain against my own inward knowledge.

"He had a relapse yesterday afternoon, and he is ... dying now." No one in the room seemed surprised that I should have come, although they had not sent for me, and I held my reverend father's hand till he fell asleep in about twenty minutes. He was beyond speech when I came, but, as we believed, recognised me and was content. My night's journey was a pious act, for which I thanked G.o.d, and my absolute conviction is that I was guided to its performance by spiritual influence.

Some years ago I was at work one forenoon in my study, and very busy, when my mind became distracted and I could not think out my sermon. It was as if a side stream had rushed into a river, confusing and discolouring the water; and at last, when the confusion was over and the water was clear, I was conscious of a new subject. Some short time before, a brother minister, whom I knew well and greatly respected, had suffered from dissension in his congregation and had received our sincere sympathy. He had not, however, been in my mind that day, but now I found myself unable to think of anything else. My imagination began to work in the case till I seemed, in the midst of the circ.u.mstances, as if I were the sufferer. Very soon a suggestion arose and grew into a commandment, that I should offer to take a day's duty for my brother.

At this point I pulled myself together and resisted what seemed a vagrant notion. "Was such a thing ever heard of,--that for no reason save a vague sympathy one should leave one's own pulpit and undertake the work of another, who had not asked him and might not want him?" So I turned to my ma.n.u.script to complete a broken sentence, but could only write "Dear A. B." Nothing remained but to submit to this mysterious dictation and compose a letter as best one could, till the question of date arose. There I paused and waited, when an exact day came up before my mind, and so I concluded the letter. It was, however, too absurd to send; and so, having rid myself of this irrelevancy, I threw the letter into the fire and set to work again; but all day I was haunted by the idea that my brother needed my help. In the evening a letter came from him, written that very forenoon, explaining that it would be a great service to him and his people if I could preach some Sunday soon in his church, and that, owing to certain circ.u.mstances, the service would be doubled if I could come on such and such a day; and it was my date! My course was perfectly plain, and I at once accepted his invitation under a distinct sense of a special call, and my only regret was that I had not posted my first letter.