Pray Everything

James 5:13-16

I don’t know about you, but there are days when James’ list presented here sounds like my life in a nutshell—yes, every single one of those things happened or is about to happen! Sometimes life bounces around like a pinball, taking us on a wild ride. One thing piles into another—and—BOOM!— the plate is spilling all over the floor.

James’ counsel is simple—pray.

As we read his words, though, we can feel like we are in one of those recent GEICO commercials where a person intones their catchphrase—“Gee, I can get insurance in fifteen minutes or less,” and their companion flatly says, “Everyone knows that,” and our original speaker responds with some ridiculous absurdity that no one knows in a twist on another cliche (“Did you know that Pinocchio was a terrible motivational speaker?”). Everyone knows we are supposed to pray. Prayer is probably the most fundamental expression of faith we have and use. But did you know it confounds so many of us so much of the time?

A truth of prayer is that everyone knows its essential nature and connection to faith praxis, but most of us also know the difficulty that arises when we try to practice prayer. There is no time; there are no words; the liturgical prayers become hollow rote exercises; hymns are beyond us; the biblical prayers seem so, well, biblical…The whole thing gets overwhelming, and we find ourselves having gone months without any real or intentional prayer apart from mumbling the prayers in the bulletin while at worship.

Then we hear James.

At first, we hear him as a scold. There he goes, heaping guilt upon us for being slack dogs. He chastises us for not stopping to pray in all things. He turns a cold shoulder to our excuses and exceptions. So, we reject him. That’ll show him!

And we are still left silent before God, our spirits arid and dry.

You are in good company with being uncomfortable with his sermon. Martin Luther found him irredeemable. James emphasizes the work of faith, rejecting any and all forms of proclamation without deeds to make the words live. Faith is not an intellectual exercise. Faith is not mouthing an acceptance of the basic premise of Christ. Faith is not even sitting in a church service week after week. Faith is life; life is faith for James. Our proclaimed trust, reliance on, and acceptance of Christ is only proved by our lives—do our words, actions, and interactions with the world reveal our complete and total acceptance of Christ? do we serve as we have been served? do we forgive as we have been forgiven? do we love as we have been loved? There is the proof. We, as Luther did before us, recoil from such a demanding stance. Who can meet such standards? What about grace? Christ was supposed to free us from all oppression, but this sounds like taking on a heavier yoke than before!

But James has a point.

Take a second look at James. 

What good is grace is we do not experience it? What good is love if we do not feel it? What good is freedom if we never use it?

Ergo, he pushes us to make it real and actual. He begins with the practice of prayer as an essential stone on which to build our praxis. As we pray, we bring ourselves into the wonderful place of discovery. As you can see from his list, there is no circumstance or context that is not worthy of prayer, from our highest pinnacles to our deepest valleys. Our greatest success? Pray in celebration. Our worst failure? Pray in confession. And all points in-between are further fodder for prayer. Everything is appropriate to pray through, finding God there. 

Make it simple—I deeply appreciate the lack of direction James offers—he simply calls for prayer, but leaves the rest up to us. Enjoy that freedom. Following an example of Paul, sometimes prayer is best when simply a sigh. Other times, the words may flow like water over a cascade. Use them all. Sometimes a group in prayer will ask us to join—do so, even if you simply silently follow along with what others say. Sometimes the closet will beckon, and there in the dark, we can sit and be with God.

That is key—remember always that prayer is no more and no less than being with God. It is as basic as acknowledging the presence of God wherever you happen to be, sharing the space as you do whatever it is you are doing. Sometimes, then, prayer is a simple, “You are here. I am here. Be with me.”

What happens as we more regularly enter times of prayer is a deeper awareness of who we are, what is happening, and how it effects us. We also begin to see how we effect others around us, and even begin to see what is happening to them and how that effects and affects them. We begin to see the ways in which we all share themes and experiences. We might even begin to see ways we can make a difference—a real and actual difference in those experiences.

Soon enough our faith leaps out of our heads and spills all over our lives. 

Now, a final word on behalf of Brother Luther—his fear of James’ sermon was that folks would fall right back into the horrible habit of thinking themselves as earning God’s notice by their wondrous commitment to works of faith. That inevitably leads to self-righteous haughtiness—I am good, my works show my goodness, and it all makes me far better than you! James himself offers a guard against any such error—we work, not earn God’s notice, favor, or special blessing over against everyone else; we do so to prove to ourselves that Christ’s promises are actual—we experience grace as we meet others with grace; we experience mercy as we meet others in mercy; and we experience love as we meet others in the totally self-emptying, other-centered love of Christ. If we can live these gifts of God, then they must be there for all. It is real.

Pray that. Pray everything.