A
prayer meeting is so much more than ‘reciting a prayer.’ It is existential
participation in the drama and dynamic of the life of the fellowship.
It must have, therefore, its beginnings in the most deadly silence,
where nobody knows how to begin, and there is not a professional to
do it for us—no overhead projector, no song service and no priming and
prodding. It is only when the Spirit moves that the life of God flows,
and we are obedient to be yielded to that Spirit.
We have been so schooled
in the utilitarian world to look upon that as a waste: "Look at
all the time going to waste. For what purpose is this waste?" We
want to come into church by 10:00 a.m. and be out by 12:30 p.m. It is
a beautiful day, and we want to be out on the golf course, but the body
of Christ cannot be dealt with like that.
We had prayer meetings
for ten years in the first Ben Israel community, and there were occasions
when those meetings were agonizing and painful. We sat and looked at
each other in a room face-to-face in silence. Everything was itching
for something to be said. Nobody had a prayer, nobody had a word, nobody
had a thought and we waited and we waited and we waited. Our ears are
voluptuous. Sound and sight are sensual things. They are the senses,
and our senses want to be gratified with something to hear, something
to see, something to speak or something to do. Silence is death to the
senses and asserts the primacy of the rule of God over our senses that
want to have an independent existence from Him. Waiting is a form of
dying, and we could have alleviated that because we were clever enough.
We could have said something or broken into a chorus. It was a suffering
until someone finally prayed something or said something, but the sessions
that began in that kind of painful death frequently, if not invariably,
ended in glory.
Authentic prayer and even
authentic praise and worship are themselves a re-enactment of the Cross.
That re-enactment is our willingness to forsake and put aside human
confidence and dependence, and come trembling and dependent upon God,
willing to experience the foolishness of weakness. Are we praying safely
and timidly? Are our prayers conventional and respectable? Are they
"our" prayers that we conceive in our own minds? Or are they
His prayers? Have we ever let go of the one in order to obtain the other?
It is a fearful proposition
to die to our own prayers. We will never know if there will be another,
never know what form it will take or what its content will be. And even
if we begin it, will we be able to end it? And how will it sound? Will
it embarrass us? Will it confuse those who hear it? There are many forms
of death. Martyrdom is the easiest if it comes as a final moment, but
the truth of the Cross for the church is the daily dying. This is what
terrifies us – failure, humiliation, and what men will think. We are
afraid to take the risks of faith, lest we fail – because failure is
death. Humiliation is death, but it is the way of life.
If this dynamic of life
has apprehended us, our prayers would be of another kind altogether.
They would terrify the powers of darkness; they would be prayers that
even would astonish us. No more do we insist upon our own agenda and
the correctness of our own prayers. We have not let go and let God be
our source of prayer. It is a daily dying, and as often as we will,
when we die to ourselves, and are willing for the risk of embarrassment
and failure, then the life of God has its expression.
Every member should sense
his or her vital significance and importance. We need, therefore, to
prepare ourselves for the coming together of the saints. We do not go
direct from the television set to the prayer meeting. It is a holy coming
together for the Lord’s use of us, and we are expecting that. What begins
in awkwardness and silence becomes unspeakably rich. Each one is obedient
to express a word, or quote a Scripture, or sing a hymn, or to give
a prophecy. It becomes such a statement of God’s very heart, that requires
every part to be expressed, or we would not have the whole thing.
The quality of our corporate
prayer and the authenticity of it cannot exceed the quality of our relationships
and the authenticity of our life together. True prayer is relative to
the quality and the truth of the corporate life together. Prayer is
not the issue of virtuosity or skill. It is the statement of the truth
of the corporate life. Are we in a place of union and identification
with the Lord together, or are we disjointed and isolated individual
entities, who have not a significant and authentic reality in relationship
among ourselves? There is a Cross, which is to say, there is a horizontal
member and there is a vertical member, and they both must be authentic.
We delude ourselves to think that we can only have a vertical relationship
to God and some kind of solo, ‘lost in God’ feeling, and still be forgetful
of our neighbor. The safest way to measure our spirituality and relationship
to God is not by our euphoric ‘lostness’ in the heavenlies, but with
that flesh-and-blood thing right next to us.
Can we reprimand or rebuke
one of the members of our fellowship for praying a private or personal
prayer? There is a place for this kind of prayer, but not in a corporate
setting. True corporate prayer is the issue of corporate life, and it
is only this kind of prayer that does business with the principalities
and the powers of the air over our communities and nations. That kind
of prayer can only be, and must be, corporate.
The one thing that the
powers of darkness are required to acknowledge is authenticity¾the thing
that is real. I am an enemy, therefore, to what seems to be real in
prayer and praise, but it puts the emphasis on musical ability, on instruments,
on electronic technology, and on worship leaders. True praise is the
spontaneous expression of the redemptive work of God in the life of
the believers personally and corporately that finds expression involuntarily.
That is authentic, and when the powers hear that, they are required
to flee. Our worship will never exceed the quality of our relationships.
We can turn up the amplifiers all we want and create an euphoric musical
atmosphere – and yet be deceived. Worship is more than singing. The
heart of worship is sacrifice, and there is nothing more sacrificial
than the loss of our privacy and our individualism and the kinds of
things that we experience if we give ourselves in earnest relationship
one to another.
Community, as I have said
before, is the intensification of all of life, and brings to the surface
things that would otherwise have gone undetected because of that intensity.
Life together compels recognition and dealing, which is to say, suffering,
but it is out of that grit that the possibility is opened for reality
and the glory and grace of God. Worship is the spontaneous overflow
of joy and praise to God for the depth and the truth of His sanctifying
work that had come through struggle and suffering together. The praise
has got to be the unconscious, unpremeditated and unorchestrated spontaneous
expression of a reality that has come corporately through suffering,
by people who are long enough together and intensely enough together
to obtain it.
Reference:
True Fellowship, Arthur Katz - chapter 10
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