Romans 12:12
“Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing instant in prayer;”
This is placed in connection with a large number of
brief but very weighty precepts. Prayer has a distinct
relationship to all Christian duties and graces. It is
not possible for us to carry out the holy commands of
our Lord Jesus unless we are abundant in supplication.
The Romans at the time that Paul wrote to them were
subject to persecution, and in this verse he mentions
two remedies for impatience under such afflictions,
remedies which are equally effectual under all the
trials of life. The old physicians tell us of two
antidotes against poison, the hot and the cold, and
they dilate upon the special excellence of each of
these: in like manner the apostle Paul gives us first
the warm antidote-"Rejoicing in hope," and then he
gives us the cool antidote, "Patient in tribulation."
Either of these, or both together, will work
wonderfully for the sustaining of the spirit in the
hour of affliction; but it is to be observed, that
neither of these remedies can be taken into the soul
except they be mixed with a draught of prayer. Joy and
patience are curative essences, but they must be
dropped into a glass full of supplication, and then
they will be wonderfully efficient. How can we "rejoice
in hope" if we know nothing about prayer to the God of
hope. Whenever your hope seems to fail you and your joy
begins to sink,-the shortest method is to take to your
knees. By remembering the promise in prayer hope will
be sustained, and then joy is sure to spring from it,
for joy is the first-born child of hope. As for
"patience," how can we be patient if we cannot pray?
Have not holy men of old always sustained themselves in
their worst times of grief and depression by betaking
themselves to prayer? Mind that you do the same.
Impatience will be sure to follow prayerlessness, but
the endurance of the divine will grows out of communion
with God in prayer. I like that beautiful, though sad,
picture of the Norwich martyr, Hudson, of whom Foxe
tells us that, when he stood at the stake with the
chain about him to be burnt, he fell under a cloud. The
Lord had withdrawn the light of his countenance from
him, and therefore this man of God slipped from under
the chain to have a few minutes alone with God. Some
thought that he was about to recant, and his fellow
martyrs began exhorting him to be steadfast and to play
the man, but this dear believer knew what he was at,
and when he had spoken with his God he came back to the
stake with a bright and beaming countenance, saying,
"Now, I thank God, I am strong, and fear not what man
can do unto me," and stood in his place with his fellow
sufferers and there burned quick to the death without
fear. Oh the power of prayer! If we do but know how to
get in contact with the Eternal and and Omnipotent, we
shall be joyful and patient in all tribulations, and
bravely endure even the keen edge of death.
Prayer is to be exercised in all things, for from its
position in the present context we are taught that it
is not without prayer that we proceed to "distribute to
the necessities of the saints." Because we have prayed
for them we are ready to befriend them by deeds of
love. If we have not been accustomed to pray for the
brethren, we shall not be "given to hospitality"; much
less shall we "bless them which persecute us." prayer
is the life-blood of duty, the secret sap of holiness,
the fountain of obedience. Upon prayer as spoken of in
the text may the Holy Spirit help us now to meditate.
Three things I shall speak upon which will be
remembered the better by being linked with three
words-Instant, constant, expectant.
I. First, then, Instant-"Continuing instant in prayer."
It may be proper a this stage to say that there words,
though I shall dwell upon them in the English, are not
identical with the Greek, in which there is but one
word. I do not know that a better translation could
possibly be given, and so I shall content myself with
the very words of our own version. The word "instant,"
as used by our translators, meant pressing, urgent,
importunate, earnest. The Greek word is said to have
the signification of "always applying strength in
prayer," or continuing with all your might in prayer.
Our prayer is to be full of strength; "blessed is the
man whose strength is in thee." Master Brooks saith
that the word is a metaphor taken from hunting dogs,
which will never give up the game till they have got
it. A hunting dog when in pursuit of its victim works
itself into full motion, using every limb and muscle to
follow as fast as possible. If you catch a glimpse of
it you will see that it throws itself forward with
intense eagerness, the whole body and soul of the dog
is in motion towards one object; no portion of him
lingers, not so much as a glance is given to anything
else, the whole creature is instant after the game
which it pursues, urgently pressing, hot foot, as we
say, to overtake the prey. Now, this is the way in
which we are to pray. Prayer as a mere form is but a
mockery; prayer in a languid, half-hearted manner may
be more dishonouring to God than honouring to him; we
ourselves may be rather injured by lukewarm prayer than
benefited by it. Prevalent prayer is frequently spoken
of in Scripture as an agony-"striving together with me
in your prayers." We frequently speak of it as
"wrestling," and we do well, for so it is. In wrestling
a man hath all his mind as well as all his body
occupied with the desire to overthrow his antagonist.
Now he bends and twists, and anon he strains and
stretches: now he uses one foot and then another; he
tries his arm and stretches: now he uses one foot and
then another; he tries his arm and now his leg; he
shifts his ground, he shifts his ground, he takes up
another position, and he keeps his eye perpetually open
lest he should be caught unawares. He hath both his
hands eager for a grip, his whole body ready for a
throw: the whole man is in his wrestling. After such a
manner pray ye; the whole of your mind, your memory,
your judgement, your affection, your hopes, your fears,
and even your imagination must be concentrated upon
this labour of prayer. May the Holy Ghost work in you
this comprehensive ardour, this energy of the whole
man. We must go with our whole soul to God or he will
not accept us. It will be ill for us if we are half-
hearted, for it is written, "their heart is divided;
now shall they be found faulty." "The Kingdom of heaven
suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force."
We are exhorted to "knock," and as our model we are
directed to him who at midnight aroused his slumbering
friend. We are exhorted to be importunate, like the
widow with the unjust judge. We are to pray as if all
depended upon our praying; though after all that
praying is in itself an affect of a cause which has
existed long before. We are to be as importunate as if
God were unwilling, and to plead as earnestly as if he
did not already know far better than we do what things
we have need of. Earnestness must be present in all our
prayers or they will return to us unanswered: this is
reasonable enough. Shall God be expected to give to us
that which we do not value? If we do not value the
blessing sufficiently to be eager in seeking it, is it
not right that he should withhold it until we are in a
better mind? Are we to worship God with a divided
reverence? Are we to treat him as though it were quite
enough for him if we gave him a stray thought, or a
half-hearted desire, now and then, as a sort of
compliment? Can we expect that he will receive our
sacrifice if we lay no fire under it? If we have no
impetuous earnestness of spirit, can we expect that we
shall be accepted? He loathes the lukewarm, will he not
loath our prayers? See how we deal with our fellow men;
if they ask a favour of us and we see that they care
but little about it, we are in no great haste to put
ourselves about to do them the turn, but if they are
very pressing, we yield to their entreaties; and so
doth God in his mercy yield to their entreaties of his
people. As one hath very prettily said, the nurse when
she hath her child in the cradle, though it beginneth
to cry and whinny a little, she leaves it and
continueth at her household work, and when it cries a
little more, and a little more she still hearkens, but
she lets it be where it is. But when at last the babe
takes to vehement crying, then straightway she presses
it to her bosom with many a kiss and a kindly word.
Children of God, you must cry mightily unto the Lord,
and pour out your hearts like water before him, and
then will he have regard unto the voice of your cry,
and it shall be unto you even according to your desire.
Instancy in prayer is needful; we must be fervent or
burning, or we shall not prevail.
How are we to attain to this urgency? God's gracious
Spirit must give it to us, but what are the methods by
which, under his direction, we may become instant in
prayer?
I answer first, let us study very thoroughly the value
of the mercy which we are seeking at God's hand.
Seeker, take heed to this.
Whatever it is that thou are asking for, it is nor
trifle. Look at it. If it be a thing about which thou
art not certain that it would be according to God's
mind, lay it aside: thou hast no right to be very
fervent about that which is of questionable necessity.
If this may or may not be good for thee, put up thy
requests to the great Father gently once or twice, and
then lay them lightly in Jesus' hand. But when thou art
certain that the blessing sought for is a good and
necessary thing for thy soul, then in order that thy
spirit may be strong in prayer get a deep sense of it's
value, its goodness, and its necessity; examine it as a
goldsmith inspects a jewel when he wishes to estimate
its worth. A man's ardour in pursuit will be in
proportion to his consciousness of the value of that
which he pursues. Get thou to feel what a precious
thing grace is, what it cost the Lord to bring it to
thee; what blessings it brings with it for time and for
eternity, and when thy heart sees that it seeks after
an unspeakably precious gift, then will its desire be
stirred up to pray with intense longings.
When thou hast done this, meditate much upon thy
necessities that thou mayest get a sense of thy need of
the mercy thou art seeking. See thy soul's poverty and
thine own undeservingness. Look at what will happen to
thee unless this blessing come. If it be some
absolutely indispensable spiritual blessing, picture to
thyself where thou wilt be if God should withhold it,
what evils will spring of thy continuing in want of it,
and what further wants may yet beset thee. The more thy
need smites thee the more eagerly wilt thou cry unto
the Lord concerning it. Art thou desirous of bread for
thy soul, be hungry, and let thine hunger eat into thy
heart. Art thou desirous of the water of life; be
thirsty, and let thy thirst burn thee till thou art
dried up like a potsherd. Let thy necessities have
liberty, by meditation, to seize thee and to distress
thee with a sense of thine emptiness and nothingness.
Nothing sets a man more eagerly upon prayer than a deep
sense of his need of that which he is seeking at the
Lord's hand. He will eagerly seek for garments who
shivers in his nakedness amid the winter's blast. He
will earnestly long for home who feels himself lost
upon a moor in the midst of a midnight fog. Get thou a
consciousness of where and what thou art apart from
Christ and from the mercy of God, and then, when thou
perceivest well thy need, this, with a sense of the
greatness of the blessing, will much quicken thee as to
instancy in prayer.
Endeavour also to get a distinct consciousness of the
fact that God must give thee this blessing, or thou
wilt never have it. It requires time to think over
these things, therefore set thyself apart awhile from
all other occupations, and think on these matters. Say
to thyself-Here is such and such a spiritual mercy, and
I can never get it out of myself, for I am a dry well.
Nothing can come out of nothing, and I am nothing. I
cannot bring a clean thing out of an unclean, and I am
unclean. This spiritual blessing I cannot obtain from
my fellow-man; nor king nor priest could bring it to
me. I cannot climb to heaven after it, nor dive into
the abyss to find it; nor earth nor heaven can yield
it, nor can either time or eternity produce it. God
alone must give it to me, and he is a sovereign, he has
a right to give or to withhold. I cannot claim it of
him as a matter of right, he must give it to me of his
mere mercy, it must be a boon of undeserved favour. Oh,
if you get that truth well wrought into your soul you
will pray earnestly, and you will use the right
arguments,-"Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy
lovingkindness, according unto the multitude of thy
tender mercies." God alone can help you, and if he
refuse you are undone for ever, therefore cry mightily
unto him.
Further to make you instant in prayer endeavour eagerly
to desire the good thing. Stand not before God if thou
wouldst win at his hands, as one who will be content
whether or no. Say not "Give it or withhold it, it is
all one to me. I knock at thy door, and if thou open I
will be somewhat pleased, but if thy door be shut I
will be pleased too." Oh no; such listlessness will
never prevail with God. There are times when you must
be brought to this condition that you will not be
denied. There is a holy "impudency," as the Puritans
were wont to call it, to which we must be brought, in
which we shall with holy boldness dare to say like
Jacob, "I will not let thee go, except thou bless me."
Such language would be blasphemy if it were not
permitted, it would be presumption if it were not
encouraged; but there is little fear of our being too
bold, for in these times men are more inclined to keep
at a distance than to come too near. We are permitted
to use the liberty of obedient, loving children. We are
allowed in the holy confidence of faith to resolve that
we will seek until we find, we will ask until we
receive, we will knock until the door is opened unto
us. Our case is urgent, and we must needs press it till
our suit is gained. Never was a man brought to such a
pass by the grace of God but what speedily the Lord was
pleased to open the hand of his liberality and give him
according to his desire; but this vehemence must be
manifested. A certain person is mentioned in John
Bunyan's "Holy War," Whose name is Mr. Desiresawake,
and their prayers lie dormant like certain wild beasts
in winter; fain would I stir them out of their dens.
Wake up, man, wake up when you pray, for it is
insulting to God to give him sleepy worship. Dreaming
at praying and playing at praying, as some do, are
grievous sins. No, no, prayer must be heart work, soul-
work, spirit work. Prayer ought to be the sweat of the
soul, it should sometimes be even as the bloody sweat
of an agonizing heart, crying mightily unto the Lord,
as Jesus did in the garden. To such the Lord sendeth
down his angel to strengthen them or in some way
heareth their pleadings in that concerning which they
were filled with anguish. Intensity of desire must be
exhibited or else it may come to pass that the time of
the bestowal is not yet come.
I will suppose, dear brother, that you have followed
these directions so far by the help of God's Spirit,
and now you know your need of the mercy, and something
of the value of it; you see that God alone can give it
you, and you are anxiously desirous to have it. Now
comes the tug of war; you are to plead with all your
might. Gather up all your faculties to see whether this
thing be a matter of promise or no. Take down the Book,
your charter and your Father's will, and see if there
be any part of the charter which promises this good
thing to you. When you have found the promise lay your
finger on it. Better still, with your spirit grasp it
in your hand, and go before God with it. If your prayer
be as Luther calls it, "bombarda Christianorum," the
Christian's great gun with which he doth bombard
heaven, then surely the promise is the shot which he
sends forth. Plead the promise by saying, "Lord, do as
thou hast said. Fulfil this word unto thy servant upon
which thou hast caused me to hope." If you do not seem
to prevail with one promise seek out another and plead
it. This, perhaps will be more to the point,-a promise
which your very soul seems to suck in as though it were
spoken to you newly and freshly, as if never another
man had ever received it. Spread this second promise
before the Lord. Nothing pleases him more than seeing
his own word pleaded by his own children. Try this, and
if it is manifest that you have not succeeded turn to
yet another promise, and another and another and
another, and then plead, "For thy name's sake, for thy
truth's sake, for thy covenant's sake" ; and then came
in with the greatest plea of all, "For Jesus' sake and
in his name, for the blood's sake, I plead with thee,
my God. O thou that hearest prayer, wilt thou not keep
touch with thine own word, and be true to thine own
Son?" You have prevailed there. By that sign you have
conquered. Again it shall be seen that the Lord hath
hearkened to the voice of a man.
Still there is one thing more wanted, and that is
strong faith, not only that God is, but that he is the
rewarder of them that diligently seek him. You cannot
be instant in prayer, nay, you cannot offer an
acceptable prayer at all except as you believe in the
prayer-hearing God. The modern wise men assure us, with
a patronizing air, that prayer is a pious exercise,
exceedingly beneficial to ourselves, but quite
inoperative with God. They are kind enough to allow us
to pray, only we must not suppose that it has the
slightest effect. And do they think that we are such
idiots that we would stand and whistle to the wind and
find good for our souls in such a stupid proceeding?
They must have formed their notion of our mental
condition from their own if they imagine that we should
pray if we knew that God did not hear us, and would not
answer us. Prayer apart from the idea of a hearing God
is not praying; it is soliloquizing, or, in plainer
words, a silly talking to yourself, such as one sees in
half-witted old persons who have outlived what few
senses they once possessed. You must believe that God
is, and that your pleadings are a part of the divine
way of blessing you, or else you are not praying but
maundering and chattering. The Lord does really listen
to the pleadings of his people, and though he does not
alter his ordinance and his decree, yet in some way or
other he makes the prayers of his people to be an
efficient link in the machinery of his providence and
grace, so that not without prayer doth he bless them,
but with it he doth bless them abundantly. Dear
friends, may the Lord the Holy Spirit stir us all up to
be instant in mighty, energetic prayer.
II. Now, secondly, comes the CONSTANT-"continuing
instant in prayer." To go back to the hunting dog with
which we set out. We saw him rushing like the wind
after his game, but this will not be enough if it only
lasts for a little; he must continue running if he is
to catch his prey. It matters not how fast the stag-
hound goes if after having kept the pace awhile he
begins to slacken-the stag will escape from him. It is
a sign of failure in the iron trade when the furnaces
are blown out; when business flourishes the fire blazes
both day and night; and so will it be with prayer when
the soul is in a flourishing state. If prayer be the
Christian's vital breath, how can he leave off praying?
We must maintain the ardour of prayer; we must be
intense always. Prayer is not to be a thing of
yesterday, but of to-day, and to-morrow, until it
changeth into praise above. Perhaps prayer will
continue even in heaven. Certainly the souls under the
alter cry "How long?" and unfulfilled prophecies yet
big with future events will be pleaded even there.
Praise, however, is the chief characteristic of the
future state, as prayer is the characteristic of the
present one. We are to get into a good pace-"instant in
prayer," and then to keep it up-continuing instant in
prayer. "That is difficult" says one. Who said it was
not? All the processes of the Christian life are
difficult; indeed, they are impossible apart from the
abiding help of the divine Spirit: but "the Spirit
helpeth our infirmities." Now then, brethren, that we
may be helped to keep up our fervency in prayer, please
to notice that prayer must be continuous, because it is
so singularly mixed with the whole gospel dispensation.
As the incense filled the temple, so does prayer fill
the gospel economy. The blood was upon the mercy seat,
and upon the alter, and the laver, and the candlestick,
and the book; it was sprinkled everywhere in the Jewish
Tabernacle, and thus atonement was the most conspicuous
object in the worship prescribed by the law of Moses;
but next to this, prayer was most prominent in the
continual calling upon God, and in the smoke of the
incense by which prayer was symbolized. It is the high
privilege of those who are believers in Jesus to draw
nigh unto God with their petitions perpetually. The
whole church, like the twelve tribes, is instantly
serving God day and night in prayer, hoping for the
fulfillment of the promise of the glorious appearing.
"Behold, he prayeth" is the very mark of the individual
Christian, and the unity, the life, and the
spirituality of the church are best seen in prayer.
"Nor prayer is made on earth alone;
The Holy Spirit pleads;
And Jesus, on the eternal throne,
For sinners intercedes."
Prayer was dear to Jesus when he was the Man of
Nazareth upon the mountain's lonely side; and prayer is
dear to him now that as the Son of God he intercedes in
glory. Even to him the covenant hath this condition of
prayer appended, "Ask of me, and I will give thee the
heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts
of the earth for thy possession." Prayer is the
atmosphere which surrounds Emanuel's land: as the
clouds hang on the mountains, so doth prayer linger
over every great mercy of God.
Prayer is connected with every covenant blessing. Why,
beloved, it is to him that calleth upon the name of the
Lord that the promise of salvation is given. Our
heavenly Father gives the Holy Spirit to those that ask
him. Justification was given to the publican rather
than to the Pharisee, because he had offered humble,
believing, acceptable prayer ; whereas the Pharisee
asked nothing, but only glorified himself. Adoption
begets prayer, for it brings us the spirit of adoption
whereby we cry, Abba, Father. From election right
onward to perfection in Christ there is no blessing of
the covenant but what is understood, received, enjoyed,
fed upon, and practically used in the way of prayer.
Those who would safely navigate the sea of life must
pray their passage to heaven.
Moreover, beloved, prayer has been connected with every
living spiritual experience you have ever had. Will you
kindly look back to the hour when you were under the
fig tree and Jesus saw you. Were you not at prayer?
When you first arose to go to your Father, was not you
first step a prayer? When you received the assurance of
salvation, was it not in answer to prayer? When his
banner over you has been love, have you not felt it
sweet to pray? When you have feasted at his table, and
he has revealed himself to you as he does not to the
world, have you not then been in the spirit of prayer?
The hill Mizar and the Hermonites-places you never can
forget, those choicest of spots, which seem as you look
back along the vista of life to be gleaming with a
supernatural splendour-has not prayer been connected
with them all? There has been nothing grandly great or
good in your spiritual life, but Jabbok has flowed near
it, and the top of Carmel has been near to view, where
you have wrestled with God and have prevailed.
Now, beloved, we are commanded to be constant in our
instancy. Is not this right? Is there any time when we
can afford to slacken prayer? Would you kindly put your
finger on the map of the way, and tell me where a
Christian man may leave off praying? Is it when he
prospers? No, for then he needs grace to carry a full
cup with a steady hand. Is it when he is in distress?
Doth not nature itself teach us that in time of
affliction we should especially draw near to God in
prayer? When should he pray, nay, when should he not
pray? Where may he pray? The answer is, he may pray
everywhere, for as one has well said, a man who carries
his temple about with him is always in a place where he
may pray ; and know ye not that your bodies are the
temples of the Holy Ghost? Wherever you go you carry
your temples with you, and therefore be sure that you
do pray. If you are on the housetop with Peter pray
there, and if waiting at table with Nehemiah, pray
there: if in the field with Isaac or on the mountain
with the Lord, or in the sea with Jonah, or in a prison
with Joseph, or in the article of death with Stephen,
pray there.
"Long as they live should Christians pray,
For only while they pray they live."
When they are under the wings of the cherubim crying
unto God at his mercy seat then are they in the secret
place of the tabernacle of the Most High, and then
shall they abide under the shadow of the Almighty.
But specially we ought to be constant in prayer,
because such remarkable gifts are vouchsafed to
importunity. God often gives liberally to prayer when
it speaks but once, but frequent pleading begets
abundant answering. That is the most soul-enriching
prayer which is long in winning its way with God. When
prayers like great ships have been long on the voyage
you may hope that they have gone far and have gathered
rich cargoes and will come home freighted with all the
goodlier merchandise. If you can but quietly hope, and
patiently wait, all will be well. The very choicest
blessings of heaven are reserved for the Elijahs who
can say, "Go again seven times," for the men who come
again and again and again and never faint. Wait then
upon the Lord with holy importunity of prayer, and your
reward shall more than repay you. It is good for us to
be compelled to pray like this ; it brings us up from
spiritual childhood to perfect manhood. Therefore be ye
constant in prayer, and gather strength for importunate
pleadings.
No reason can be given why we should not continue in
prayer. I can suppose one brother saying, "I feel I
cannot pray." When you feel you cannot pray, be sure
that you are more in need of prayer than ever. Is not a
disinclination to prayer one of the saddest marks of
your soul's condition, one of those reasons which ought
above all others to drive you to the mercy-seat? "Would
you say the same, sir, if I tell you that I can pray?"
Precisely the same, for now when the wind is favourable
you should hoist all sail. If you cannot make progress
now, when will you? Therefore pray when you can pray,
and pray when you cannot pray. "Alas, sir, I cannot get
beyond a groan." Brother, be not distressed, for the
best praying in all the world consists of "groanings
that cannot be uttered." We may sometimes have a doubt
whether the Spirit of God helps us to pray in cheerful
prayers, though I do not say that there is any need for
the doubt,-but we cannot have a question about our sad
prayings, for it is expressly said he "maketh
intercession for us with groanings which cannot be
uttered." Do you think that the chief end of a
Christian's life is to be comfortable? It is often more
good to us to mourn like doves than to sing like
nightingales. Sometimes there may be more prayer in a
sigh than in a long oration. Often do I myself
personally look back upon times of bondage when I cried
to God with all my soul, and thought I did not pray,
and I wish that I prayed now as I did then. Therefore
always pray; whether you feel in a mind for prayer or
not, still pray. The fisherman at Mentone keep on
fishing with their great net; ay, by the score these
fishermen take it out and haul it in again, and
frequently they get no more than one little sardine for
their pains. Many and many a time I have seen no more
than they could hold in their hand as the produce of a
net which covered acres of the sea. But why do they go
on? Because they are fishermen, and cannot do anything
else. You and I are praying men, and there is nothing
else we can do but wait upon the Lord. So if, after
many a throw of the net, we get but one small answer,
we will try again, for this is all we can do. "Lord, to
whom should we go but thee?"
Continue in prayer because the continuance of our
instancy in prayer is the test of the reality of our
devotion. Men that are in business and are in earnest
cannot afford to open the shop and do a little
occasional trade, and then put up a notice, "The
proprietor of this shop has gone out for an excursion,
and will resume his business when he feels inclined
to." This would be trifling, and not trading; and it is
so in prayer: a little bit of praying and then a
stretch of neglect will prove a delusion and a snare. A
poor simpleton who had never been to sea before, when
he was going to Australia, asked a friend on board the
vessel what the sailors did with the vessel at night.
"Do of a night," was the reply, "Why, sail as fast as
they can go." "I did not know," he said, "they worked
in the night, I thought they stopped the ship." He must
have thought he was out on some pleasure excursion
along the coast, and that the yacht would anchor when
the sun went down; but he was in an ocean clipper which
was out for work and not for play. The man who means
business must sail whether it is dark or light; and so
in prayer we must serve God instantly, both day and
night. Real prayers are constant prayers. There is a
fish, you know, that sometimes attempts to fly, but it
is no bird for all that. It only takes a little flight
and then it is in the water again; but a true bird
keeps on the wing, especially if it is such a bird as
the eagle, whose untiring wing bears it above the
clouds. Beware of prayers which leap up like a
grasshopper and are soon down again. Let your prayers
have the wings of a dove, let them fly away from earth
and rest in God. Hypocrites pray by fits and starts,
the genuine Christian "prays without ceasing."
Beware of judging yourselves by certain spasms of
prayer. When I put my lamp out last night, as I
thought, it flashed up, then went down again, and yet
again flashed up; it did so many times, as I stood
waiting, but I knew it must go out ere long. Some have
a way of flashing a prayer or two, but their piety is
only a dying light, it will all be over soon. Continue
instant in prayer, it shall be the test of whether your
prayer is a lamp of the Lord or a dying light of your
own kindling.
Beloved, we must continue in prayer, but the Holy
Spirit alone can enable us to do it. We may, however,
be much helped in it by occasionally setting apart a
special time. Days of prayer and hours of prayer, and
set seasons of prayer are very helpful. We ought to
have our appointed seasons each day, but special times
over and above our regular custom may stir the fire and
enable it to burn more brightly. To unite with other
Christians in prayer is often very helpful. Private
prayer is more important than public prayer under any
aspects, and is a better test of a Christian; still
public prayer often reacts upon private devotion, and
when two or three are together, and are agreed as
touching the kingdom, their supplications will often be
helpful to each other and obtain the thing which they
desire.
III. Our last word EXPECTANT. It is not in the text
verbally, but it must be there really, because there
will be no such thing as instancy or constancy unless
there is an expectation, and a belief that God can and
will give that which we seek. Let us go back to our dog
again: the dog would not run at so great a rate if he
did not expect to seize his prey; but see how every
limb is stretched with intensity, and he goes over
hedge and ditch after his game because he has almost
seized it, and though it flies before him with all its
might, yet he close upon it. There is no praying with
any fervour unless there is faith that God will hear
you; at least if instancy can be felt for a while,
constancy cannot be kept up long without it. Expectancy
that God will hear. I was awakened at about four
o'clock this morning by a sharp shrill sound. I thought
it was a swallow screaming by the window, and I fell
asleep again. A young bird had found its way into my
room, and was crying for liberty. I left my bed and
opened the window to let the captive free. It did not
seem to know its way, and so I caught it and gently
placed it at the window, and in a moment it flew to the
oak tree close by and sat itself down. I watched its
movement. The moment it had perched itself comfortably
it began to utter sharp cries, and it turned its little
head round on all sides as if looking for some one. It
was crying for its mother, and why? Because it expected
to be fed. And why did it expect to be fed? Because it
had been fed before. If it had been a full-grown bird,
it would not have called for food, but would have
helped itself; but this poor little creature had been
nourished by its parents, and it was looking round to
be supplied again. This is why we pray. O Lord, thou
hast supplied our wants so long and so often in answer
to prayer, that we are in the way of it; and now we
pray, not only because we ought to do so, but because
it has become natural to us to pray, and we expect thee
to hear us. When thou dost hear us we bless thee, but
we are not surprised, as though it were a strange
thing. Thy truth causes great admiration but no
astonishment, for it is like thee to keep thy word, We
are poor dependent children, and thou a wise and tender
Father; thou has never left us and thou wilt never
leave us, and so we continue instant in prayer, because
we are expectant of thy grace. Some professors seldom
exercise expectancy in prayer, but the soul of prayer
is gone when you have no expectation. God will the cry
of your desire, but the hand into which he will put the
mercy is the hand of your expectation. You must believe
that you have the blessing, or you will not have it
unless it be by some extraordinary mercy beyond what is
promised. His usual way is to raise our expectations so
that we look out for the favour, and then he sends it.
If some people looked out for answers to prayer they
might soon have them, for their prayers would be
answered by themselves. I was reminded of that by a
little boy whose father prayed in the family that the
Lord would visit the poor and relieve their wants. When
he had finished, his little boy said, "Father, I wish I
had your money." "Why so?" "Because," he said, "I would
answer your prayers for you." "Which prayers, John?"
"Why, father, you prayed that the poor might be helped,
and you could do it very well with your own money." I
like better still that story of the good man at the
prayer-meeting, who reading the list of prayers found
one for a poor widow that her distress might be
relived, so he began to read it, but stopped and added,
"we won't trouble the Lord with that, I will attend to
that myself." Numbers of prayers are of that kind: we
are praying God to do what we ought to do ourselves,
and that is sheer impertinence. If we really prayed in
earnest, expecting to be heard, our answer would often
come in this very way, by our being stirred up to see
that the Lord had heard us. The Lord might well say to
us, "Thou sayest, Thy kingdom come; arise and help to
make my kingdom come! Thou askest that my name may be
hallowed; go thyself and hallow my name." Oh, that we
had the expectancy which would teach us practical
action, so that we should find the answer to our prayer
given before we asked, according to the promise,
"Before they call I will answer them, and while they
are yet speaking I will hear."
I had many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear
them now, for the time has passed. I shall close by
recommending to all of you one simple but very
comprehensive prayer. It was offered by a poor man in
Fife, and it was copied out by the Duchess of Gordon,
and found among her papers when she died. "O Lord, give
me grace to feel my need of thy grace! Give me grace to
ask for thy grace! Give me grace to receive thy grace!"
See ye not what scope there is for prayer! You will
never need to leave off pleading for want of subjects.
Continue, therefore, to be instant in it.
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