Week 43:
The bit where I introduce:
I came across this quote recently from Søren Kierkegaard (Danish philosopher)
“The function of prayer is not to influence God, but rather to change the nature of the one who prays.”
And initially I liked it. Quite a lot. There is something appealing about the idea that prayer is not about persuading God to give us what we want. Prayer changes us. It slows us down. It teaches us gratitude. It exposes things in us that perhaps need changing. All good stuff.
But then I started wondering. Is that really all prayer does? Because when I looked to the Bible, the answer seemed to be… no. Quite a few biblical stories appear to suggest something considerably more uncomfortable.
People pray.
God listens.
And what God was going to do changes. So once again, down the rabbit hole I went… Come with me.
The bit where we refer to the bible and ask a few rhetorical questions:
Read exodus 32 whole chapter (if you can)
11 But Moses tried to pacify the Lord his God. “O Lord!” he said. “Why are you so angry with your own people whom you brought from the land of Egypt with such great power and such a strong hand? 12 Why let the Egyptians say, ‘Their God rescued them with the evil intention of slaughtering them in the mountains and wiping them from the face of the earth’? Turn away from your fierce anger. Change your mind about this terrible disaster you have threatened against your people! 13 Remember your servants Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.[a] You bound yourself with an oath to them, saying, ‘I will make your descendants as numerous as the stars of heaven. And I will give them all of this land that I have promised to your descendants, and they will possess it forever.’”
14 So the Lord changed his mind about the terrible disaster he had threatened to bring on his people.
One of the clearest examples I could find occurs in Exodus 32. Israel has made the golden calf, and God tells Moses that judgement is coming. Moses pleads with God not to destroy them. And then we get this extraordinary sentence:
“So, the Lord changed his mind about the terrible disaster he had threatened to bring on his people.”
That for me is difficult to fit into the idea that prayer changes only the person praying. Moses prays. And according to the story, something changes.
It happens again in Amos 7. Amos sees a vision of judgement and cries out to God. God relents. Another vision comes. Amos pleads again. God relents again.
Also, in Hezekiah in 2 Kings 20. Isaiah tells him that he is going to die. Hezekiah turns towards the wall and prays. Before Isaiah has even left the palace, God sends him back.
“I have heard your prayer and seen your tears.” Hezekiah is given another fifteen years.
So, what exactly are we supposed to do with that?
Maybe prayer is more relational than I realised: I understand why Kierkegaard’s statement is attractive. It protects us from a terrible theology of prayer. God is not a vending machine!
Insert prayer.
Select desired outcome.
Receive miracle.
And if nothing happens, perhaps you did not pray hard enough. Or perhaps you lacked faith. Or perhaps someone secretly sinned.
I have heard enough versions of that theology in my time to understand why people want to get as far away from it as possible. But I wonder whether we sometimes travel too far in the opposite direction. We can end up with a God who cannot be affected by relationship at all.
We speak.
God already knows.
We ask.
God has already decided.
We plead.
Nothing about God can possibly change.
Eventually prayer starts looking suspiciously like something we are doing entirely to ourselves while God watches. And… I am not sure after going down the rabbit hole that is the God the biblical writers imagined.
Abraham apparently did not get the memo either, Genesis 18 contains one of the strangest conversations with God. God tells Abraham about the coming judgement of Sodom. Abraham asks: What if there are fifty righteous people? God agrees not to destroy the city. Forty-five? Fine. Forty? Fine. Thirty? Fine. Twenty? Fine. Ten? Fine.
It reads almost like Abraham is bargaining with God.
Whatever else we make of the story, Abraham clearly believes that speaking to God matters. Not simply because Abraham needs changing. But because relationship matters. His voice matters. And God listens. Then Jesus tells us to ask, (He does not seem embarrassed by petitionary prayer either)
“Ask, and it will be given to you.”
“Seek, and you will find.”
“Knock, and the door will be opened.”
When Jesus teaches his disciples to pray, he does not simply teach them to meditate until they become better people. Give us our daily bread. Forgive us. Lead us. Deliver us. Those are requests.
James says something similar when he says:
“The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” Not merely therapeutic. Effective. But does this mean God changes his mind?
This is where things get complicated. Traditional Christian theology has often said no.
God is perfect. God knows everything. God does not suddenly discover information and think: You know what, Moses makes a good point.
I hadn’t considered that. Fair enough. I can understand why theologians resist that picture. But I also wonder whether we lose something if we explain all the relational language away. If God is genuinely relational, then perhaps our relationship with God actually matters to God.
Not because we manipulate God. Not because we tell God something God does not know. But because love responds. If someone I love speaks to me, their words matter. Their pain matters. Their hopes matter. Being responsive does not make love unstable. Perhaps responsiveness is part of what makes love, love.
Maybe prayer changes both of us: Perhaps Kierkegaard is partly right. Prayer absolutely changes the person praying.
I don’t know about you but sometimes I begin prayer wanting God to change somebody else and discover that I am the person who needs changing. Sometimes I pray about injustice and slowly realise that I cannot keep asking God to act while refusing to participate myself. Sometimes prayer exposes fear, anger or selfishness I did not realise I was carrying. Prayer changes us.
But perhaps that does not require us to say that prayer changes only us. I discovered the Bible seems comfortable holding both together. Prayer transforms people. Prayer also matters to God. Moses speaks and God responds.
Amos pleads and God responds.
Hezekiah weeps and God responds.
Jesus tells us to ask. Perhaps prayer is not about controlling God. Perhaps it is about participating in a real relationship with God. And real relationships involve responsiveness.
What do I take from all of this is…I still like Kierkegaard’s quote. I just do not think I completely agree with it. Prayer changes us. Hopefully. But the Bible seems unwilling to reduce prayer to spiritual self-improvement.
It portrays a God who listens.
A God who responds.
A God who can be pleaded with.
Maybe saying prayer “changes God” is too simplistic. But saying prayer cannot possibly affect God seems too simplistic as well. Perhaps prayer is not about persuading a reluctant God to become loving. Perhaps it is about relationship with a God whose love is already responsive.
And maybe that means our prayers matter more than we sometimes imagine. Not because they control the future. But because relationship matters. Because we matter. Because others matter.
And… because perhaps God has chosen to make room within the life of His realm for the voices of those God loves.
The bit where you get to think about stuff: Questions for the week.
When I pray, do I expect a genuine relationship with God, or am I mainly talking to myself in God’s presence?
Have I ever treated unanswered prayer as evidence that prayer does not matter, or answered prayer as evidence that I somehow prayed correctly?
What might change if I believed that prayer could transform me while also genuinely mattering to God?
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