Those two things — glorifying God and enjoying God — do not always coincide in this life, but in the end they must be the same thing. We may pray for the coming of God’s kingdom, but if we don’t enjoy God supremely with all our being, we are not truly honoring him as Lord.
—Tim Keller (Prayer, 4)
When did you last really give yourself to prayer? When did you find yourself praying more often and with more urgency and expectancy? What burned in your heart, driving you to your knees? What provoked you to pray?
For most of us, it was a sudden or acute need.
Life was rolling along, certainly not perfectly but relatively smoothly, and then — wham. Maybe a surprise bill disrupted the budget and left you scrambling. Maybe conflict started a fire in a precious relationship — with a spouse, friend, colleague, child. Maybe a doctor’s visit went horribly wrong. Maybe temptation stalked and struck you. You already knew that you always need God, but then you felt that need again, in every vein of your body. And so you prayed.
“Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread . . .” (Matthew 6:9–11). Provide what I need. Heal the illness. Reconcile the relationship. Forgive my sin.
We instinctively know what to do when we’re desperate.
But tell me, what is your prayer life like when life isn’t that desperate? Do you pray less and with less expectancy? Do you pray at all? And what do your peacetime prayers suggest about the purpose of prayer?
Learning from a Prayerless People
God calls the prophet Jeremiah to go and confront his people over their prayerlessness. Before he rebukes them, though, the Lord recalls a different, sweeter season he enjoyed with them:
I remember the devotion of your youth,
your love as a bride,
how you followed me in the wilderness,
in a land not sown. (Jeremiah 2:2)
At one point, they were a young and adoring bride. He remembers their affection and devotion. And notice where their hearts were so warm toward him: “in the wilderness, in a land not sown.” They were warmest in the worst circumstances. They didn’t have a home. They were vulnerable to enemies and the elements. They had only enough food for the day. And yet they loved God. They drew close to him, their hearts aflame.
Then the flame went out: “What wrong did your fathers find in me that they went far from me, and went after worthlessness, and became worthless?” (Jeremiah 2:5). And notice where their hearts went cold:
I brought you into a plentiful land
to enjoy its fruits and its good things.
But when you came in, you defiled my land
and made my heritage an abomination. (Jeremiah 2:7)
In the wilderness, they were an adoring wife. In paradise, they left their first love.
Where Is the Lord?
The Lord puts his divine finger on a particular problem, though, an especially serious symptom of their spiritual disease:
They did not say, “Where is the Lord?” (Jeremiah 2:6, 8)
In other words, as soon as they escaped the wilderness, they stopped praying. When they felt their need for God — for hunger, for protection, for guidance — they ran looking for him. But as soon as those needs were met, they weren’t looking for him anymore. That made God angry.
Be appalled, O heavens, at this;
be shocked, be utterly desolate,
declares the Lord . . . (Jeremiah 2:12)
God calls the heavens to lie down in dust and ashes because the people stopped seeking him in prayer. Does that feel like an overreaction? Does prayerlessness deserve disgust?
We, of course, see their foolishness easily enough. Israel, how could you possibly neglect God after he brought you through so much? But then some of us do the same. God answers our prayers, our comfort returns, and we stop asking, “Where is the Lord?” — until we need something again. God is looking for a people who run to him in need and in plenty, in the wilderness and in paradise.
Satisfy Us in the Morning
This kind of prayer life isn’t merely about dependence. Remember, the Lord says, “I remember the devotion of your youth, your love as a bride.” He’s not just angry that they stopped praying; he’s angry that they stopped adoring. Jesus warned the scribes and Pharisees, “This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me” (Matthew 15:8). Listen to the rest of Jeremiah 2:12–13:
Be appalled, O heavens, at this;
be shocked, be utterly desolate,
declares the Lord,
for my people have committed two evils:
they have forsaken me,
the fountain of living waters,
and hewed out cisterns for themselves,
broken cisterns that can hold no water.
They stopped asking, “Where is the Lord?” and they stopped drinking at the fountain. God offered himself as an infinite, all-satisfying fountain, and they turned from him and started digging holes in the sand. That’s what sin is: rejecting the beauty and worth of God and trying to satisfy our souls somewhere else. John Piper says, “The essence of evil is to lose a taste for God and prefer anything more than God, especially when he offers to be for us the never-ending fountain of life and joy.”
So, the purpose of prayer is never mere dependence. Oh, we pray for God to provide, to heal, to reconcile, to forgive — daily and throughout the day. We pray out of dependence and even desperation, but we also pray out of affection and adoration. “Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days” (Psalm 90:14).
Cries of Dependence and Delight
In his excellent book on prayer, drawing on centuries of wisdom about its purpose and power, Tim Keller steps into this dance between dependence and delight. He talks about the marriage of “kingdom-prayer” (asking God to work in the world) and “communion-prayer” (enjoying the presence and relationship of God). He writes,
The Westminster Shorter Catechism tells us that our purpose is to “glorify God and enjoy him forever.” In this famous sentence we see reflected both kingdom-prayer and communion-prayer. Those two things — glorifying God and enjoying God — do not always coincide in this life, but in the end they must be the same thing. We may pray for the coming of God’s kingdom, but if we don’t enjoy God supremely with all our being, we are not truly honoring him as Lord. (Prayer, 4)
The kind of prayer life that truly honors God is a prayer life that delights in God. When we ask, “Where is the Lord?” — in the wilderness and in prosperity — it’s because we want to know him, see him, savor him. And when we do, we might almost hear him say,
Be thrilled, O heavens, at this;
be elated, be utterly overjoyed,
for my people have relentlessly pursued me,
the fountain of living waters,
even when I gave them everything.
