Pray Without Ceasing

Yesterday, in one of my devotional books, I read a piece which declared prayerlessness to be a sin. Initially, I wasn't all that surprised. Total lack of communication with God? I suppose at some level it could be labeled a sin. What took me by surprise was the fact that the author went on to declare that anything less than ceaseless prayer is a sin.

'A sin?' I thought. 'Surely not a sin.'

It's an interesting perspective, though. It gave me pause. Is anything less than ceaseless prayer really a sin? By not being in absolutely constant communion with God, am I actually leading a lifestyle of sin?

I doubted at first, of course, because it's so drastic. How could it be sinful to have a few moments when God isn't at the forefront of my mind? That question really did give me pause. I began to wonder if, perhaps, I was writing off the author's dramatic declaration simply because it wasn't the feel-good devotional I wanted. This challenged me.

There has only been one time in my life in which I was even close to ceaseless prayer. My first two years of high-school, I probably thought of myself the least, because I wasn't as pretty as I'd have liked to be, and I wasn't popular or particularly amazing at sports, or academics, or anything, really. I spent that year with a lot of focus on my relationship with God and on my own behavior as a Christian going to a Christian school where most of the students played a lot of the church games they always do as adolescents in the church. I remember sitting in a chapel session that was focused on that idea of praying without ceasing.

Whoa. It wasn't a novel idea, really, but the fact was that I had never heard it put in such plain terms before. Ceaseless prayer? It's just talking to God about anything and everything that happens during the day. You see a random person. You pray for them. Just a quick prayer, nothing special or wordy or eloquent. Something like, "God, whatever that person struggles with, be in the midst of their life today." Or if you see something particularly beautiful, thank God for it.

I started to try it, that very same day.

It took practice, of course. I was constantly having to remind myself that I should be praying. I prayed for the people around me, and I prayed for people I thought of, and I thanked God for whatever I saw that I thought was good or pleasing, and I went about my day. It was hard, though, if I was upset or angry.

After a while, it got easier. Even when upset, I prayed for whomever I was upset with, or I prayed kind of like David--you know, the "rescue me, God" and "You are my stronghold, I take shelter under your wings."

I think, to be honest, while nothing much really happened during those years, I remember them as some of the times I was most joyful.

It's been a long time since then. I've tried a few times to get back in the habit, but that hasn't really been cutting it. If I want to try ceaseless prayer, I'm going to have to be very, very intentional about it.

But back to the beginning. Is a life without ceaseless prayer really sinful? It's a strange thing to simply call the absence of lack of continual communication with God a sin, but I'm starting to see his point. Without constant communication with God, it's that much more difficult to know God's will. It makes sense to me that if we aren't in constant contact with God in some shape or form, then, essentially, we are sinful. I know in my experience that knowing the right thing to do isn't easy. During those few years in which I tried to engage in ceaseless prayer, though, I remember it just wasn't difficult. The right thing always seemed crystal clear. I was spending my arguments praying for the other person, rather than trying to figure out how to win the argument. I was much more easily able to put down my pride and admit being wrong than ever before (which, if you know me, is probably one of the hardest lessons I've had to learn).

Basically, when I'm not talking to God, I sin a lot. When I am talking to God, I sin less.

Granted, I'll always mess up (I know I'm not perfect in any stretch of the imagination), but that doesn't change the viewpoint. It's almost like being physically lighter, more buoyant--as if gravity has a little bit less of a hold on you as it does everyone else. Probably because it does.