1. What Prayer Means.
Prayer is described as a conflict. We have a similar expression used of the prayers of Epaphras, in the words “labouring fervently” (Col. iv. 12). The same word “conflict” is associated with faith, “the good fight of faith” (1 Tim. vi. 12), and with the “good fight” of the Apostle’s entire life (2 Tim. iv. 7). Prayer regarded as a conflict includes the two ideas of toil and strife.
The toil of prayer shows us the work involved in it. Sometimes we hear the expression, “If you can do nothing else, you can pray,” as though prayer were the easiest of all things. As a simple fact, it is the hardest. No man knows what prayer means unless he knows what it is to “labour” in prayer. The strife involved in prayer implies opposition—the opposing force of one who wishes above all things to check and thwart our prayers. We discern something of this opposition in the well-known words, “We wrestle” (Eph. vi. 12); and the words of the hymn are as true as they are familiar—
“And Satan trembles when he sees
The weakest saint upon his knees.”
The Apostle knew by spiritual experience that to pray was to rouse up against himself a mighty opposition, and it was this force that made his prayer such a “great conflict.” No believer should be surprised at his prayers “being hindered” (1 Pet. iii. 7). It is evidently one of Satan’s main objects to get the Christian to restrain prayer. The Christian man or the Christian Church that continues instant in prayer may rest assured of malignant opposition from the hosts of spiritual wickedness in high places. On the other hand, we may be sure that Satan scarcely troubles himself about the believer or congregation whose private, family, and public praying is neglected or thought little of. Prayer is, therefore, a “great conflict.” It is not solicitude only, but a struggle; not merely anxiety, but activity. As Bishop Moule says: “Prayer is never meant to be indolently easy, however simple and reliant it may be. It is meant to be an infinitely important transaction between man and God. And therefore very often, when subjects and circumstances call for it, it has to be viewed as a work involving labour, persistency, conflict, if it would be prayer indeed” (Colossian Studies, p. 124). The Bishop goes on to quote a familiar incident which illustrates this great truth: “A visitor knocked betimes one morning at the door of a good man, a saint of the noblest Puritan type—and that was a fine type indeed. He called as a friend to consult a friend, sure of his welcome. But he was kept waiting long. At last a servant came to explain the delay: ‘My master has been at prayer, and this morning he has been long in getting access.’”
The practical question for us is whether this is our idea of prayer, or whether we are merely playing at prayer, and not regarding it with true seriousness. If we know what it is to have “great conflict” in prayer, happy are we. If we do not, we may well ask God to search our hearts and change our minds about prayer.
Prayer is characterised by unselfishness. The conflict of the Apostle was not self-centred. It was on behalf of others: “Great conflict I have for you, and for them at Laodicea.” This is the essence of prayer—intercession on behalf of others. If our seasons of prayer are largely taken up with prayers for our own needs, however genuine, we are failing at a crucial point; but if our time is mainly taken up with prayers for others, we shall soon find that our own blessings begin to abound. “There is that scattereth and yet increaseth.”
Prayer also implies sympathy. The Apostle was praying for people whom he had never seen, and probably never would see. This is not easy—indeed, is very difficult—but it is a real test of spirituality. “Out of sight, out of mind.” We are tempted to limit our prayers to friends whom we know, causes in which we are interested, subjects spiritually near and akin to us. Not so the Apostle, whose heart went out to the whole Church of God in every place where he knew through friends that little bodies of Christians were to be found. His sympathy was at once quick, wide, and deep, and it is one of the supreme tests of true spirituality to have a sympathy possessed of all these three characteristics. Our sympathy may be quick and yet narrow, or wide but not deep, or even deep and not wide; but to be at once quick, wide, and deep in sympathy is to be a true follower of Christ.
As we ponder these things—conflict, unselfishness, sympathy—do not our hearts condemn us? Instead of conflict, how easy-going have been our prayers! Instead of unselfish, how self-centred, instead of sympathetic, how contracted! Thus the Apostle searches and tests us as we dwell on his wonderful life of prayer.