World War II was raging when I was born and most of the younger men from our village had volunteered or been drafted into the armed forces—even the Vicar was in uniform, serving as an Army chaplain. Thus my youthful role models were largely men of my grandfather’s age.
This, doubtless, explains why my idea of “cool” manly attributes included a receding hairline, false teeth, wire-rimmed spectacles and a nicotine-stained mustache. Fortunately my grandmother convinced me that a four-year old would look pretty stupid with a bald head and a nicotine-stained mustache.
I didn’t give up on the false teeth until a couple of years later, however. After all, they seemed such fun. You could make such droll faces with them. In any event, I eventually acquired a set of those longed-for false teeth. They had belonged to a great aunt who had passed away and no longer needed them.
Funnily enough, by the time I was big enough to cram them into my mouth, I discovered I no longer wanted them at all.
Not so a motorbike—the object of my heart’s desire since I had first seen an Army dispatch rider careening around the country lanes on a glorious 500cc Norton. Ah, the sound and the smell of the thing were utterly enrapturing!
Naturally, a motorbike featured in my prayers, initially ahead of the receding hairline, false teeth, wire-rimmed spectacles and nicotine-stained mustache, and ultimately replacing them entirely.
To begin with it came well down the prayer list—after my parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins. But when no motorcycle arrived, I decided God obviously hadn’t gotten the message, so I moved it up the list a bit.
Eventually, the miserable thing displaced all but my immediate family in my intercessions. At this point, grandmother broke the news God had most certainly got my message, but that he probably thought six-year-old boys were just a bit too small for motorcycles.
Chagrined, I abandoned the quest in favor of praying for a big white rabbit with pink eyes. On its arrival my faith in prayer was immediately restored.
Not surprisingly, as adults our prayers still tend to resemble shopping lists. Of course, we don’t ask for motorcycles or Barbie Dolls; still less receding hairlines, false teeth, wire-rimmed spectacles, and nicotine-stained mustaches.
But while our requests to God are generally more altruistic, they more often than not conform to the age old shopping list format.
Please don’t think I’m denigrating this sort of intercession—especially when we do so on behalf of others. Such altruistic intercessions certainly conform to Jesus’ commandment that we love our neighbor as much as we love ourselves.
But prayer is essentially a conversation with God, and conversations require us to listen as well as to speak. Indeed, when we are in conversation with the almighty Creator of the Universe, it should surely behoove us to listen an awful lot more than we speak.
A good place to start is by reading the beautiful collect on Page 595 of the Prayer Book, entitled For Quiet Confidence:
O God of peace, who hast taught us that in returning and rest shall we be saved, in quietness and confidence shall be our strength; By the might of thy Spirit lift us, we pray thee, to thy presence, where we may be still and know that thou art God. Amen.
GPH✠
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