08. The Prayers of Paul

The Prayers of Paul

Beyond all comparison Paul is the greatest figure in the history of the early Church. He was the Master’s aptest pupil; and the truth he learned from Him he applied with a courage, a penetration, a versatility, and an originality which are beyond all praise. The tremendous force that was brought into history by Jesus is well seen in the restless creative energy of Paul. Jesus lives in Him; and because he possesses the spirit of Jesus, he breathes new life into all that he touches—the men he meets, the theology he inherits, the prayers he offers. The contrast between Jesus and Paul is, in one respect, as striking as it could be. There are few, if any, verbal parallels between them. The direct remin­iscences of the Master’s teaching are not many; the intricate and impetuous prayers of Paul (Cf. Ephesians 1:16 ff.; Colossians 1:9 ff.) are unlike the simple serenity of Jesus. But the contrast is so great just because Paul is so completely overmastered and controlled by Jesus. He is at once His slave and His freeman. He does not so much possess the spirit of Jesus, rather He is possessed by it, and that spirit scorns imitation. It seeks out—as it always must, wherever its freshness and freedom are felt—new methods of expression and attack. It shows its true kinship with the Master by the originality with which it works. The contrast between the prayers of Jesus and Paul is great, nevertheless the similarity is very real. In particular, he had caught the Master’s note of thanks­giving. In everything, prayer and supplication have to be blended with thanksgiving (Php 4:6). He begins almost all his epistles with thanksgiving and often ends his arguments with doxology (Romans 11:33). “Thanks be unto God” is the motto of his life. It makes a very interesting study to compare the petitions and the prayers of thanksgiving offered by Paul: the latter far outweigh the former. The joy which had welled up in the heart of the Old Testament worshipper as he entered the courts of Jehovah was intensified in Paul a thousand times by his gratitude to God for His unspeakable gift (2 Corinthians 9:15). In Jesus Christ salvation had been brought nigh. All who enjoyed it and all who witnessed its triumph in the hearts of other men could not but “rejoice in the Lord always; and again I will say, ‘ Rejoice’” (Php 4:4). It was a duty “in everything to give thanks, for this is the will of God” (1 Thessalonians 5:18)—a duty to which all who loved God and men were invincibly constrained. “We are bound to give thanks to God always for you, because God chose you unto salvation” (2 Thessalonians 2:13). “We are bound to give thanks to God always for you, brethren”—for your faith and love to one another (2 Thessalonians 1:3): bound to give thanks for the salvation and spiritual progress of men. The number of allusions to thanksgiving is more than surprising upon an area so relatively small as the epistles of Paul. His many exhortations to gratitude show how much his own mind was controlled by this thought, and suggest, on the other hand, the tendency of average men to “forget His benefits.” “Be ye thankful,” “abound in thanksgiving,” “do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks unto God,” “continue steadfastly in prayer, watching therein with thanksgiving” (Colossians 3:15; Colossians 2:7; Colossians 3:17; Colossians 4:2)—all these admonitions come from one short epistle. He himself had taken to heart the advice he gave the Ephesians (Ephesians 5:20) to “give thanks always for all things to God.”

Though thanks must be given for all things, in point of fact the thanksgivings of Paul are nearly always connected with the salvation that came to men through Jesus. That was the fact that dwarfed all others in importance, and its effect upon the heart of himself and other men causes him to rejoice evermore. It is the depth of the riches of the wisdom of God (Romans 11:33) in send­ing one who had delivered men out of the power of darkness and translated them into the kingdom of the Son of His love (Colossians 1:13), one who had given them the victory over sin and death (1 Corinthians 15:55-57), one in whom they had been blessed with every spiritual blessing (Ephesians 1:3)—it is this that kindles the heart of Paul to rapture. The amazing unselfishness of the life of Paul is seen as clearly in his thanksgiving as in his petitions. His thanks are nearly always connected with the welfare of his converts or the progress of the gospel. Once he expresses gratitude for a specific gift of his own—that “I speak with tongues more than you all” (1 Corinthians 14:18); but he at once proceeds to speak somewhat depreciatingly of this power, at least in so far as it does not tend to the welfare of the Church. The thing to be grateful for is the progress of the truth, and any personal gift that contributes to that progress. In keeping with this altruistic view of life, Paul blesses God for the power he possesses of comforting others (2 Corinthians 1:4), he thanks Him for the fidelity of Titus (2 Corinthians 8:16), and he cannot find words to express his rapture at the thought of his Thessalonian converts (1 Thessalonians 3:9). The acceptance of Jesus by men and their fidelity to Him whom they had accepted—these are the things that chiefly inspire Paul to thanksgiving. He thanks God at the sight of men who had been the servants of sin becoming the servants of righteousness (Romans 6:17 f.), or when they received his message not as the word of man but as the word of God (1 Thessalonians 2:13), or—in more theological language —that God had chosen them unto salvation (2 Thessalonians 2:13). But especially did Paul rejoice over the fruits of conversion, over the visible signs that his converts were really possessed of the spirit of Jesus. He gives thanks for the universally acknowledged fidelity of the Roman Church (Romans 1:8), for the faith in Jesus and the love towards each other which characterized the Thessalonians (1 Thessalonians 1:2-3), the Colossians (Colossians 1:3-4), and the Ephesians (Ephesians 1:15 f.), for the faith and love of Philemon (Philemon 1:4-5), for the gifts of the Corin­thians (1 Corinthians 1:4 ff.), for the fellowship of the Philippians in fur­therance of the gospel (Php 1:3-5).

Surely there were never more remarkable prayers of thanksgiving than these. Self is forgotten: Christ, the converts, the progress of truth, faith, and love— these are everything. And the thanksgiving becomes all the more astonishing when we remember the fierce, hard life that Paul was compelled to lead: in affliction, in distresses, strifes, imprisonments, tumults, labors, vigils, fastings (2 Corinthians 6:4-5). “Five times I received forty stripes save one. Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I suffered shipwreck, I have been a day and a night in the deep, in journeyings often, in perils of rivers and robbers, of countrymen and heathen, of city, desert and sea, of hunger, thirst, cold, and nakedness” (2 Corinthians 11:24 ff.) But Paul remained more than conqueror. In all these things he rejoiced ever­more, because of the unspeakable gift.

It was inevitable that one who so rejoiced over the salvation and progress of his converts should pray for them. Intercessory prayer plays a great part in the life of St. Paul. It is the old story: the true pro­phet, the preacher who means what he says, will be an intercessor. The man who loves the truth and who also loves the men to whom he preaches it, will plead for them. So not only Paul’s heart’s desire, but also his supplication to God for the Jews (Romans 10:1) was that they should be saved. And once men have been won for Jesus, he prays that they may be sustained in the good life (1 Thessalonians 3:13), and enabled to bring forth much fruit, and this to the ultimate end “that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified” (2 Thessalonians 1:12; Romans 15:5-6; cf. Php 1:11). He prays not only that they may do no evil (2 Corinthians 13:7), but that they may, in a spirit of blameless sincerity (Php 1:10), do much good, especially that they may put into practice the Master’s royal lesson of love to one another and to all men (1 Thessalonians 3:12). But as the quality of the outward life depends entirely upon the inward spirit, it is usually towards this that the supplications of Paul are directed. If men are “to walk worthily of the Lord, bearing fruit in every good work,” then they must be “filled with the knowledge of His will (Colossians 1:9-10). He therefore prays that God may give them a spirit of wisdom that they may realize all that is theirs in Christ—the hope of the Divine calling, and the greatness of the Divine power as attested by the resurrection of Christ (Ephesians 1:17-20). What is needed is an inward strength, and this can only come through the indwelling of Christ in the heart; it is therefore for this that he prays (Ephesians 3:16-17). These requests are summed up in the prayer, “The Lord direct your hearts into the love of God, and into the patience of Christ” (2 Thessalonians 3:5) and “give you peace at all times in all ways” (2 Thessalonians 3:16).

Paul’s unbounded interest in his converts is attested by the almost extravagant language in which he describes his prayer for them. He struggles for them, he prays night and day exceedingly that he may see their face (1 Thessalonians 3:10). Like most great leaders of men, he probably knew personally those who were devoted to him and never forgot any with whom he had had individual personal relations. He speaks of “making my sup­plication with joy on behalf of you all” (Php 1:4). The names of long-forgotten men and women are scattered over his letters—unknown to us, but dear to him. He gave his life not for an abstraction, nor even for a gospel, but for Jesus and for men. In words of moving sincerity, he discloses the secret of his earnestness in intercessory prayer. He prayed for men because he loved them. “God is my witness,” he says, “how I long after you all in the tender mercies of Christ Jesus” (Php 1:8); and still more touchingly and simply, “I have you in my heart” (Php 1:7). So thoroughly is Paul in earnest about the duty and power of intercessory prayer that not only does he himself pray for his converts, but he asks them to pray for him. He knows that their supplications can help him (Php 1:13; 2 Corinthians 1:11; cf. Philemon 1:22). The very last injunction before his parting salutations to the Thessalonians is “Brethren, pray for us” (1 Thessalonians 5:25). As we might expect, the prayers he requests them to offer on his behalf are never selfish prayers: they are always intimately related to the progress of the gospel. Once indeed he beseeches his brethren (Romans 15:30 f.) to strive with himself in their prayers to God for him that he might be “delivered from them that are disobedient in Judaea”—in another case, “from unreasonable and evil men” (2 Thessalonians 3:1); but the con­text shows that this is really a prayer that his work, and the work of the Lord—which was the same— should move on unhindered. That the prayers he requested his converts to offer were really for the gospel’s sake rather than his own is usually made very explicit. They are to pray that he be enabled boldly to declare the mystery of the gospel (Ephesians 6:19; Colossians 4:3). That is the supreme ambition of Paul, for which he enlists the prayers of others—that the gospel may triumph, and that he may be. equipped to proclaim it.

Considering the power and fidelity with which Paul apprehended the teaching of Jesus, to say nothing of his own unselfish and enthusiastic devotion to the cause of evangelization, it can hardly be regarded as other than striking that he never directly recommends prayer for the heathen. (In Romans 10:1 Paul prays for the salvation of the Jews.) Jesus prayed for His enemies, Paul prayed for his friends. He even pronounces ana­thema upon any one who preaches other than the unadulterated gospel (Galatians 1:8-9), and upon any man who does not love the Lord (1 Corinthians 16:22). This anathema is nothing but the corollary—natural to a man of his impetuous temperament—of his flaming devotion to Christ. The absence of allusions to prayer for the heathen, though it cannot be accidental (Cf. John 17:9, where Jesus is made to say, “I pray not for the world.”), must not be unduly strained. The love recommended to the hungry and thirsty enemy (Romans 12:20), and extolled in one of the noblest prose-poems ever written (1 Corinthians 13), must surely also have expressed itself in prayer for the heathen. Such prayers are really involved in his prayers for the success of the gospel and in his requests for the similar prayers of others. First and last, he was a missionary; and what was all his crowded life but an unremitting prayer for the men for whom Christ died and rose again? The absolute selflessness of the life of Paul is very plainly seen in his petitions. He recommends indeed that in everything requests be made known unto God (Php 4:6), but his own recorded requests are nearly all for others. Very characteristically he assures the Philippians (Php 4:19), “My God shall supply every need of yours” His own needs were practically summed up in the desire for the new creation and preservation of men through Christ. For himself he prayed only that he might become a fitter instrument and win a wider oppor­tunity (Cf. 1 Thessalonians 3:11). He prays night and day that he may see the faces of the Thessalonians, but it is that he may make perfect that which is lacking in their faith (1 Thessalonians 3:10). He prays that he may be permitted to visit Rome, but it is that he may impart to them some spiritual gift (Romans 1:11).

Only once does he offer a prayer for his own welfare, and even that is of a very modest and negative kind (2 Corinthians 12:8 f.). It was for the removal of a physical disability, which he doubtless considered was an impediment to his life work; so that even in this desire his passion for the gospel may have been implicated. But it is signifi­cant that this, his only recorded prayer for his own welfare, was not granted. Like the Master in Geth­semane, he prayed earnestly, three times, so that it must have been a matter lying heavily upon his heart. But when his petition is not granted, he knows what to do. He not only submits, but rejoices, because, through his weakness, he reaches a deeper experience of the power of the grace of Christ. The very numerous incidental allusions to prayer in the life of Paul show what an enormous place it must have had in his life. Often he speaks of “making mention of you in my prayers” (Romans 1:9; Ephesians 1:16; 1 Thessalonians 1:2). This phrase does not necessarily imply that Paul had regular hours of prayer, though this may well have been the case. He urges the Ephesian (Ephesians 6:18) and the Thessalonian (1 Thessalonians 5:17). Chris­tians to pray at all seasons, and this he does himself, praying ceaselessly (Romans 1:9; Ephesians 1:16; 1 Thessalonians 2:13; 2 Thessalonians 1:11), night and day exceedingly (1 Thessalonians 3:10). This last phrase, together with Paul’s advice to the married (1 Corinthians 7:5), and a few allusions to “watchings” (Cf. 2 Corinthians 6:5; 2 Corinthians 11:27; Ephesians 6:18), have created the impression that he believed in regular nightly vigils for prayer. But this seems to strain the words unduly. Paul was a practical genius; and knowing the spiritual value of order and regularity, it is highly probable that he carried over into his Chris­tian life his Jewish habit of praying three times a day. But he was no legalist. He, of all men, was a man of the spirit; and though, in his days of travel, it may not always have been possible for him, more than three times a day, to “bow the knee to the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named” (Ephesians 3:14), we may be sure that, like Nehemiah at the court of Artaxerxes (Nehemiah 2:4), he sent up many a swift and silent prayer to God, so that, apart from the conscious God-ward attitude of all his life, it may have been almost literally true that he prayed without ceasing.

We have now to raise the very important question of the attitude of Paul to Jesus in prayer. Did he pray to God only or to Jesus also? Before dealing with this question, it will be well to consider whether, apart from his epistles, there are other illustrations of prayer to Jesus, and whether Jesus ever directly pre­scribed or indirectly suggested this.

During the lifetime of Jesus, appeals, usually brief, were occasionally directed to Him, which sound like prayers. “Jesus, Thou son of David, have mercy upon me” (Mark 10:47-48). Thus He is addressed by the blind Bartimaeus (Cf. Matthew 9:27; Matthew 20:30 f.; Luke 18:38). The request is nearly always one for mercy or help, and was made to Him as the Messiah; but as the Messiah, though divinely equipped, was not necessarily regarded as Himself divine, this proves nothing for the possibility of prayer to Jesus. In a similar situation, He is addressed simply as “Jesus, Master” (Luke 17:13).

Addresses to Him as Lord look, at first sight, a little more in the direction of worship. “Lord, have mercy on my son” (Matthew 17:15), says the father of the epileptic boy. “Lord, save me” (Matthew 14:30), is the cry of Peter, and “Lord, save us, we perish” (Matthew 8:25), of the disciples on the sea. The word Lord, however, while it was a common designa­tion of God in the time of Jesus, could be equally well applied to man. It was a polite or deferential address: it is thus that the servants in the parable of the un­faithful steward address their master (Matthew 25:20; Matthew 25:22; Matthew 25:24). It was not unlike our “Sir,” and is the regular word in modern Greek for Mr. Considering, however, the religious use of the word, it was very natural that, soon after the resurrection of Jesus, His followers should apply the term to Him in the profounder religious sense: He was Lord, as God was Lord. But no inference can be drawn from the use of the word as addressed to Him during His lifetime. The dying thief, according to the true text in Luke 23:42, says, “Jesus, remember me”; but Jesus is transformed into Lord by the reverent instincts of a somewhat later age. We can here see the process at work (Cf. Luke 18:38; Luke 18:41; John 6:34). Nor can any inference be drawn from the use of the word worship, which occurs in the story of the visit of the Magi (Matthew 2:2; Matthew 2:11), and of the meeting of Jesus with the eleven disciples after His resurrection (Matthew 28:17; in Luke 24:52 the word is omitted in some manuscripts). The Greek word really implies no more than the prostration with which an inferior honored a superior: it is the word used to describe the attitude of the servant in the parable who could not pay his debt. “He fell down and pros­trated himself and said, ‘ Have patience with me and I will pay thee all’” (Matthew 18:26). It cannot be denied that in the two stories alluded to, especially as they are late, the idea of worship may have been more than remotely suggested; but that is not the essential meaning of the word. The fate of mistranslation has befallen alike the Greek word and the corresponding Hebrew word of the Old Testament.

It is altogether improbable that Jesus directly counseled or even countenanced the worship of Himself during His lifetime (Cf. Mark 10:18). He disclaimed omniscience: “Of that day or that hour knoweth no one, not even the angels in heaven, nor yet the Son” (Mark 13:32). He refused to accede to the request of James and John in the words: “To sit on my right hand or on my left is not mine to give” (Mark 10:40). There may have been moments when the disciples felt towards their Master something more than reverence—moments when, under the influence of His manifest power and His strangely searching words, there arose instinctively in their hearts the con­sciousness that here was a being unlike any other. But it is another question whether they worshipped Him.

Many influences would contribute to render that, during His lifetime, practically impossible. First, there was the intense monotheism of Jewish religion. Jehovah was one, He was spirit; He was like man, but He was not man. He could speak through men and in them, but He could not be identified with man. Anything like the worship of a living man, however possible it may have been in other parts of the Roman empire, must have been inconceivable upon the soil of Judaism. Besides this, there was Jesus’ own express injunction to worship the Father. The manner of His own prayers and His own teaching on prayer must have gone to confirm, if it needed confirmation, the Jewish view of the exclusive right of God to worship. On the other hand, it cannot be denied that prayers are addressed to Jesus in the New Testament. Some­times, indeed, the question is complicated by the ambiguous use of the word Lord, to which we have already alluded. For example, the prayer of the dis­ciples for a successor to Judas is addressed to the Lord (Acts 1:24). Is this God or Jesus? The epithet “who knowest the heart” suggests that the address is to God, and this is confirmed by Acts 15:8, where this epithet is directly applied to God. But, on the other hand, three verses before the prayer, we meet the phrase the Lord Jesus; so that the prayer may, after all, be addressed to Jesus (Acts 9:17, the lord, even Jesus, etc). Against this, however, we may set the prayer of the Church for Peter in prison, which is expressly said to have been made to God (Acts 7:5), though a prayer to Jesus, for whose sake Peter was suffering, would not have been unnatural, had prayers to Jesus been common. The truth is that, leaving out the Pauline epistles, prayers to Jesus are exceedingly rare in the New Tes­tament. An undoubted case is the dying prayer of Stephen—Lord Jesus, receive my spirit (Acts 7:59)—which can at least be no later than the composition of the Book of Acts. There is further the brief prayer in Revelation 22:20, Come, Lord Jesus. These simple appeals are probably the earliest form of prayer to Jesus. A prayer to the risen Jesus, in a crisis into which one had been brought through fidelity to Him, would be very natural; and at a time when both the Jewish and the Christian atmosphere was filled with eschatological hopes, Come, Lord Jesus, would no doubt be a very common prayer on the lips of Christians.

Thomas’s address to Jesus (John 20:28), “My Lord and my God”—the only passage (In John 14:14, " If ye shall ask me anything in my name,” me is omitted in the best texts.) which suggests the worship of Him in the gospel which, more than any other, em­phasizes His divinity—is an address rather than a prayer. There is a doxology to Jesus in 2 Peter 3:18, and in Revelation 5:6-13 the Lamb is praised by a multitude of angels round about the throne in heaven. Though the Lamb, with the seven horns and seven eyes, is symbolical, and the scene is in heaven, not on earth, it seems not unfair to conclude from this, supported as it is by the other doxology and two prayers, that divine honors were early paid to Jesus. Christian, Jew and heathen could all alike appeal to God; Christian and Jew could alike address God as Lord; the Christian could distinguish himself from both by praying to Jesus.

Such warrant for prayer to Jesus as may be sup­posed to be derived from His own words comes from the Gospel of John, where occasional reference is made to prayer in His name (John 14:13-14; John 15:16; John 16:23). It is not without significance that this phrase, in this connection, is not found in the Synoptic Gospels, and it may reflect the later practice of the Church. But it is quite possible that Jesus did actually use the expression in the promises of those farewell days.

What does it exactly mean? The phrase “in the name of” has its roots deep in the past: it had once carried with it ideas of magic and superstition. To Semitic peoples the name meant far more than to us. It covered all that we mean by character, personality; it was mystically connected with the person named. But it also seemed sometimes to be regarded almost as an entity separable from the person with whom it was associated, and enjoying, in a sense, an independent existence alongside of him. The higher the being, the more powerful the name. There was hardly anything that could not be effected by the help of the Divine name. It could control the demons. The good spirits obeyed willingly, the evil could be compelled by the name to service. In the prayer of Manasseh, God is addressed as the one who has “shut up the deep and sealed it by Thy terrible and glorious name.”

Belief in the power of the Divine name existed long before the New Testament, and colors much of the language of both Old and New. When we read that certain strolling Jews, exorcists, took upon them to name the name of Jesus over those that had evil spirits (Acts 19:13), we cannot but suppose that a certain magical power was ascribed to the name. The nature and quality of the apostles’ faith in the name of Jesus must have been very different from that of these exorcists, and yet there were points of contact between the two. Their miracles were wrought in the name of Jesus (Acts 3:6; Acts 4:30; cf. James 5:14). Very singular are Peter’s words with reference to the healing of the lame man: “By faith in His name hath His name made this man strong” (Acts 3:16). It is hardly possible to deny that the name here is more than simply an equivalent for Jesus. Its curious promi­nence and its repetition in this verse, together with the fact that the name is actually pronounced when the cure is about to be effected, all seem to suggest, in accordance with ancient Semitic belief, that the mani­festation of the power of the person addressed is con­nected with the naming of his name. Similarly, in the late appendix to Mark those who believe in Jesus are to cast out devils in His name (Mark 16:17), and even those whom He rejects in the final judgment claim to have enjoyed the same power (Matthew 7:22). Does not this indisputable use of the word throw light upon the passages in which Jesus speaks of His disciples as “asking in His name”? To ask in the name of Jesus would mean to pray, and, in praying, to utter His name. (From this point of view, the statement, “Hitherto ye have asked nothing in my name,” is striking.) A prayer so offered would be answered either by Himself or His Father (John 14:13-14; John 15:16). It is not impossible that the ordinary Christian of those early times—heir as he was to the Semitic past—would, in a somewhat mechanical and superstitious way, associ­ate the power of Jesus, whether to act or to mediate, with the mere naming of His name. That, of course, cannot have been, in the remotest degree, the inten­tion of Jesus. Here, as everywhere else, He takes familiar words, and transforms them. Only those could count on being heard who believed on Him as they uttered His name. In other words, the thing of essential importance was their faith in Him (Acts 3:16), indicated by their appeal to Him, and not the mechanical utter­ance of His name. The person who offered a prayer in His name would be one whose will was in unison with His; so that prayer in the name of Jesus comes to mean practically prayer in His spirit, and carries also with it an implicit confession, on the part of the worshipper, of his supreme debt to Jesus for his new relation to God.

Let us now return to the consideration of the prayers of Paul: did he pray to God only, or to Jesus also? It is remarkable that, in spite of Jesus’ injunction to pray to the Father, the address to God the Father— with the exception of the simple exclamation “Abba,

Father,” which occurs twice (Romans 8:15; Galatians 4:6)—is found only four times (Colossians 1:2; Colossians 1:12; Php 4:20; Ephesians 3:14). Everywhere else Christ is in some way im­plicated in Paul’s address to God, for whom the usual designation is “the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Colossians 1:3. It is interesting to note that here this fuller address immediately follows the simpler address to “God our Father”, Colossians 1:2.) This is certainly no accident. It is an eloquent testi­mony to the difference that Jesus made in Paul’s relations to God. What God now is to Paul, He is through Jesus. But does the phrase imply more? The answer to this question is somewhat facilitated by noting other expressions—chiefly two—in which Paul describes his approach to God; namely, “in the name of Christ,” and “through Christ.” As an illustration of the former, take Ephesians 5:20, “giving thanks always for all things in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ to God, even the Father,” and of the latter, Romans 1:8, “I thank my God through Jesus Christ for you all.” It does not, of course, go without saying that these expressions are identical in meaning; but, as they occur in very similar contexts, they cannot lie far apart. The meaning of “the name” we have already dis­cussed. Strictly speaking, to thank God in the name of Jesus would naturally mean to thank Him, uttering aloud—for whatever purpose—the name of Jesus. The purpose for which Jesus is appealed to is supposed by some to be indicated in the other phrase, where the thanks are offered to God through Jesus. In other words, it is contended that Jesus is summoned to con­vey the thanks to God. But there are serious objections to this view. While a certain magical force may well have been attributed to the name by average Christians of that time, we can hardly suppose this to have been the case with Paul. Any such mechanical conception can hardly be ascribed to one who saw so clearly into the essence of religion, any more than it can be ascribed to Jesus Himself. There would be something peculiarly wooden about this explanation as applied to so spon­taneous an utterance as “I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord” in Romans 8:25. Besides, it would be very remarkable if this explanation were correct, that Paul always thanks, and never entreats, through Jesus: it would be at least as natural, if not more so, to suppose that Jesus would also be sum­moned to convey petitions.

Through Jesus suggests mediation indeed, but prob­ably mediation of the salvation rather than of the prayer. A presumption in favor of this view is created by the triumphant words of 1 Corinthians 15:57, “Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” If this be the mean­ing of thanking God through Christ, some light is thus thrown on the other phrase—thanking Him “in the name of Christ.” The name of Christ is all that rises to the mind of the worshipper when He utters His name—notably the salvation which He mediated. Thus there would be in the expression a reminiscence of the older associations that clung to the name, but into it there would also be poured the grateful memory of the work wrought by Christ.

Thanks in the name of Christ does not therefore necessarily imply that Paul prayed to Christ; and even more direct phrases, such as the description of Christians as “those who call upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ,” (1 Corinthians 1:2; cf. Php 2:9 ff.) do not necessarily lead to this conclusion. This, while it might indeed involve prayer to Christ, may mean no more than that Chris­tians implicated the name of Christ in their prayers to God, as Paul himself did. Immediately after the phrase just quoted, Paul simply says, “I thank my God,” (1 Corinthians 1:4) and his prayers must certainly have been, in the main, directed to God (Romans 10:1). But are there no exceptions? Paul’s view of Christ is so exalted that the worship of Him is certainly any­thing but inconceivable. He is far above all rule and authority, not only in this world, but in that which is to come (Ephesians 1:20-23). He had existed in the form of God, before He emptied Himself and took upon Him the form of a servant (Php 2:6-11). He is the image of the invisible God, the first-born of all creation (Colossians 1:15-18), and in Him dwelleth all the fullness of the Godhead bodily (Colossians 2:9). The conception of Christ being so exalted, the surprise rather is that there should be so few passages which can, with any plausibility, be regarded either as direct prayers to Him, or as implying the possibility of such prayers, especially as in the introductory greetings to the letters, the Lord Jesus Christ is so frequently co­ordinated with “God our Father” as the giver of grace and peace (1 Corinthians 1:3; 2 Corinthians 1:2). This may be explained by the relativity or subor­dination of Christ to the Father which comes clearly to light in many other passages. God sent Him (Galatians 4:4), delivered Him up (Romans 8:32), raised Him from the dead (Romans 4:24).

“When all things have been subjected unto Him, then shall the Son also Himself be subjected”—or shall subject Himself—unto God the Father (1 Corinthians 15:28). Even in the lofty passages just quoted, this sense of subordi­nation is not absent. The Father of glory raised Christ from the dead, and set Him at His right hand (Ephesians 1:20). He gave Him the name which is above every name (Php 2:9); and He is the first-born of all creation (Colossians 1:15). Sometimes there is a sharp distinction drawn between God and Christ. “There is one God the Father, of whom are all things and we unto Him; and one Lord Jesus Christ, through whom are all things and we through Him” (1 Corinthians 8:6; cf. Ephesians 4:5-6). When Paul became a Christian, he did not forget the strict monotheism he had learnt as a Jew. “There is no God but one” (1 Corinthians 8:4-6; cf. Romans 3:30; Ephesians 4:6), and “of Him and through Him and unto Him are all things” (Romans 11:36).

Yet there are phenomena which leave room for the possibility that Paul did address Christ in prayer. The revelation of God in Him was so complete that, in spite of the historical and theoretical distinction between them, there is, for the devotional life, where logical categories are forgotten, a practical identity. Sometimes, immediately after both have been named, the verb that follows is in the singular, and of course the function expressed by the verb is equally ascribed to both. For example: “May our Lord Jesus Christ Himself, and God our Father . . . comfort your hearts and establish them in every good work” (2 Thessalonians 2:16). It is not impossible that the double address at the be­ginning of the verse has been forgotten under the influence of the parenthetic clause of twelve Greek words which follows it. But this explanation of the singular verbs will not hold in 1 Thessalonians 3:11, where the verb immediately follows its two subjects: “May our God and Father Himself and our Lord Jesus Christ direct our way unto you.” In these passages, Jesus equally with God is the comforter, the strengthener, and the guide of life, and the possibility of prayer to Him must be conceded. The passage which is supposed to raise this possi­bility into an actuality is 2 Corinthians 12:8. “Con­cerning this thing”—his thorn in the flesh—“I be­sought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me.” But who is the Lord? We have already seen how naturally the early Church applied this term to Jesus; it is also Paul’s favorite designation of Jesus. But though there are many cases where the term may equally refer to God or Christ, and few, if any, where it necessarily refers to God (Perhaps Romans 14:6 is such a passage; he who eateth eateth to the Lord, for he giveth God thanks.), it is altogether probable that Paul could also have applied the word quite naturally to God, especially as it was so familiar a designation of Him in the Greek version of the Old Testament. Indeed, from this he quotes passages containing the word Lord (Romans 4:8 = Psalms 32:2; 1 Corinthians 3:20 = Psalms 94:11), which he must have felt referred primarily to God, though it would be begging the question to say that, in the mind of Paul, the reference to Christ was absolutely excluded. The prayer then, for the removal of the thorn in the flesh may, after all, be a prayer to God. But in candor it must be confessed that the context seems to point the other way. “He”—that is, the Lord— “said unto me, ‘My grace is sufficient for thee; for (the) power is made perfect in weakness.’” That is the answer to the prayer. Paul goes on: “Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me” (2 Corinthians 12:9). It is impossible not to hear in these words an echo of the answer; in that case, the answer must have come, from Christ, and the prayer been directed to Christ. This would seem to be the only indubitable instance of prayer to Christ in the epistles of Paul. Such prayer could be justified by the completeness with which God was revealed in Jesus, and would be facili­tated by the use of the term Lord for each alike. Nevertheless it is significant that such prayers should be so very few—elsewhere in the New Testament only the prayer of Stephen, and the brief cry “Come, Lord Jesus.” There is no direct word of Jesus enjoining prayer to Himself. Even in the gospel of John, though Jesus urges His disciples to “ask in His name,” He seems deliberately to avoid urging them to ask Himself (John 14:13-14. Note the dogmatic addition of me in certain texts; of. John 14:14.), and explicitly urges them to ask the Father (John 15:16; John 16:23). At first the impulse to pray to Jesus would be hindered by the deep-seated monotheistic instincts of His contemporaries, by His own command to pray to the Father, and not least, by their recollection of Him as a man. But the farther men receded from the times of the historical Jesus, the more easy and natural would prayer to Him become. If the question of the legitimacy of prayer to Him has to be settled on the basis of His own demands alone, then it would have to be settled in the negative. He did not claim this honor for Himself. But the greatness of His per­sonality is not to be measured by His formulated claims, great as these sometimes were. The stupen­dous impression He made upon the world issued naturally in the offering to Him not only of praise, but of prayer. History was so moved by Him that, with­out any express warrant from Himself, she thrust this homage upon Him. The Difference that Jesus Made

Jesus was at once conservative and revolutionary. In fulfilling, He destroyed; in destroying, He fulfilled. The prayers that follow His appearance in history have something, even much, in common with those that precede Him; yet, in the main, they are different. It will therefore be worth while to gather up here the scattered impressions that the argument has made, and to look briefly at the difference that Jesus made. That difference must have been more or less obvious to all who heard Jesus pray. “As He was praying, when He ceased, one of His disciples said to Him, ‘ Lord, teach us to pray, even as John also taught his disciples’” (Luke 11:1). Here is a recognition of the felt import­ance of prayer, and also of knowing its true method or secret; but it is also an acknowledgment of the difference that was felt to exist between John and Jesus in prayer as well as in preaching. The prayer that follows the answer to this question, while it is primarily intended to serve His disciples as a model, is also an implicit criticism of existing practice, from which it differed partly in form, and partly in content.

After this manner pray ye: briefly. That was not the existing manner—the scribes made long prayers (Mark 12:40)—nor is it the manner of the later prayers of the Old Testament. It is as if Jesus said: A true prayer must be brief; ye shall not be heard for your much speaking. The publican’s prayer, which is approved, is little more than a cry; the Pharisee’s, which is condemned, is relatively much longer (Luke 18:11-13). The former prayer forms, in particular, a very striking contrast to the elaborate confessional prayer of Manasseh already quoted.

Again, “when ye pray, say, ‘ Father.’” This is the correct text in Luke 11:2, and is in itself very probable. That it was the favorite word of Jesus is made prac­tically certain by the cry Abba, Father (Romans 8:15; Galatians 4:6; Mark 14:36; cf. Matthew 11:25; John 18:1), uttered by those who possess the spirit of sonship. The Aramaic word of Jesus—Abba—appears to have been so inte­gral a part of His prayer that it was perpetuated even among the Greek-speaking Christians. He no doubt also said, “My Father” (Cf. Matthew 26:39; Matthew 26:42). The word Father had been used centuries before in prayer (Isaiah 63:16; Isaiah 64:8), though God had usually been regarded as the Father of the nation. Before the time of Jesus, however, the word Father appears also to have been addressed to God by the individual; but, even so, we have the incontrovertible testimony of Paul that, after the revelation of Jesus, the Fatherhood seemed to be a different thing. Since Jesus, sonship was realized in another way, or another degree; the thought of it stirred an emotion which had never been so stirred before, with the result that the sons cry Abba, Father (Romans 8:15).

Jesus had, for the first time, placed the fatherhood of God in the center of religious thought. It is characteristic that neither the Pharisee nor the publican, though the one offers a prayer of gratitude, and the other for mercy, uses the term Father; they both address God simply as God (Luke 18:11; Luke 18:13). The difference that Jesus made in this connection is very strikingly seen in the use He made of the words “Into Thy hands I commend My spirit,” on the cross (Luke 23:46). These words come from Psalms 31:5a; and that they are ad­dressed to the Lord, or Jehovah, is clear from Psalms 31:5b. But by the simple change of Lord to Father, the words are transfigured. In this little word lies the real difference between the Old Testament and the New, and that word we owe to Jesus. With it, of course, goes a whole wealth of new associations, and a totally different attitude to God. In the Old Testament, the attitude is rather that of a servant to his master. Especially in the later period God is felt to be far away (Cf. Ecclesiastes 5:2). There is an importunity about some of the Psalms, for example, which suggests that God may be ultimately worn into granting His grace by the worshipper’s vehemence and persistency (Cf. Luke 18:5). Though New Testament prayer is not less earnest, it is more restful and confident. It is sure of the divine love, for it has seen Jesus. God is not now distant, but nigh. His worshippers therefore speak of ap­proaching Him not only with confidence, but with boldness, for the spirit of bondage has been cast out and replaced by the spirit of sonship. The reverence due to God is not forgotten. He is still the invisible (Colossians 1:15), the incorruptible (Romans 1:23), the only wise God (Romans 16:27), the Father of glory (Ephesians 1:17); but He is also now the God of peace (Romans 15:33; Romans 16:20; Php 4:9; 1 Thessalonians 5:23), of love (2 Corinthians 13:11), of hope (Romans 15:13), of consolation (Romans 15:5). When ye pray, say Father—simply Father. It had been the custom for three or four centuries before Jesus’ time to enrich the divine name with epithets. The tendency is already quite marked in the prayers of Ezra. In the Apocrypha, a prayer begins thus:—

“O Lord, Thou that dwellest in everlasting­ness, who beholdest from above things in heaven and in the air, whose throne is inestimable, whose glory may not be comprehended, before whom the hosts of angels stand with trembling, whose service is conversant in wind and fire, whose word is true and sayings constant, whose commandment is strong and ordinance fearful, whose look drieth up the depths, and indignation maketh the mountains to melt away. . . O hear the prayer of Thy servant” (2Es 8:20-24). A prayer probably contemporary with Jesus and certainly in the contemporary manner, begins thus:—

“Blessed art Thou, O Jehovah, our God and the God of our fathers, God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob, the great and mighty and terrible God, God most High, maker of heaven and earth, our shield and the shield of our fathers.”

How profound, simple, original and welcome, would be the simple “Father.” This word did not indeed imply an absolute condemnation of all titles in prayer—Jesus Himself also prayed to the “Father, Lord of heaven and earth”; also, according to John, to the “holy” and “righteous Father”—but they must be chosen with regard to their relevance and propriety. They will in any case be few, and will be often, if not usually, absent altogether. Again, in addressing God simply as Father, Jesus obliterates all the old national associations of prayer. (For the value and relative justification of the national element in prayer, cf. Part 2:Modern Prayer, The Nature and Content of Prayer.) “All flesh shall come to Thee.” God is not now the God of Israel, or of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, but the Father of all. Whereas ancient Jewish prayer was fond of enumerating what God had done for Israel (Cf. Nehemiah 9), Paul dwells rather on what He had done for men in Christ: He is the God “who reconciled us to Himself through Christ” (2 Corinthians 5:18). The difference which Jesus made is very conspicuous if we contrast His prayers with those of Jeremiah. The similarity between their careers is more than re­markable. No Old Testament figure is so prophetic of Jesus as Jeremiah. Each was rejected by his own townsmen (Jeremiah 11:21; Mark 6:1-30, the life of each was sought by the priests of Jerusalem (Jeremiah 11:19), each was led as a lamb to the slaughter (Jeremiah 26:8), each was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, each sought and found strength in prayer. But how different was the temper of the prayer! Jeremiah’s passionate readiness to reason the cause with God, his challenges of the divine ways (Jeremiah 12:1), which are repeated in the still bolder challenges of Job, and find an echo in Psalms as late as the second century B.C. (Psalms 44:23) have nothing to match them in the prayers of Jesus, except the single heart-broken cry, wrung from the depths of an agony incomparably deeper than Jeremiah’s, “Why hast Thou forsaken me? (Cf. Jeremiah 15:18).

Again, we have already seen how frequent and terrible are Jeremiah’s prayers for vengeance. “Bring upon them the day of evil, and destroy them with double destruction” (Jeremiah 17:18). “Deliver up their children to the famine, and give them over to the power of the sword, and let their wives become childless and widows, and let their men be slain of death, and their young men smitten of the sword in battle. Forgive not their iniquity, neither blot out their sin from Thy sight, but let them be overthrown before Thee; deal Thou with them in the time of Thine anger” (Jeremiah 18:21; Jeremiah 18:23). Such prayers are common in all periods of Hebrew history. Joshua (Joshua 10:13) and Samson (Judges 16:28), at the beginning of Hebrew history, pray for vengeance upon their enemies. So Nehemiah (Nehemiah 4:5)—“Cover not their iniquity, and let not their sin be blotted out”—and these terrible petitions ring throughout the whole history (Psalms 69:22 ff., Psalms 109). What a con­trast they form to Jesus’ command, “Pray for them that persecute you,” and to His dying prayer, “Father, forgive them.” The Jewish passion for vengeance was hard to slay, and it was not at once destroyed by the spirit of Jesus; its voice is still heard plainly enough in early Jewish Christianity (Revelation 6:10; Revelation 16:5-6). But, in the main, such prayers are offered no more. The dying prayer of Samson ran: “O Lord Jehovah, remember me, I pray Thee, and strengthen me, I pray Thee, only this once, O God, that I may be avenged of the Philistines for my two eyes” (Judges 16:28). The dying words of Stephen were: “Lord, lay not this sin to their charge” (Acts 7:60). That was the difference that Jesus made.

Another difference lay in the predominant emphasis which He placed on prayer in spiritual things. Even the Old Testament occasionally touches this height. “Though the fig-tree flourish not, and there be no herd in the stalls, yet will I joy in the God of my salvation” (Habakkuk 3:17-18). If I have but Thee, I ask for nothing in heaven or earth (Psalms 73:25). But, as a rule, these heights were reached only after a struggle, and they were held by very few. Jesus Himself recognized both in practice and in prayer the place of things material. Much of His ministry was given to caring for the bodies of men, and He taught His disciples to pray for bread. Nevertheless, with Him the kingdom of God is first and everywhere; and in the epistles of Paul, as we have already seen abundantly, the supreme and almost the exclusive place is occupied by the things of the spirit. That was another difference that Jesus made. But perhaps the most remarkable difference of all was the shifting of the emphasis from petition to thanksgiving. The Old Testament is indeed a glad book. Worshipping a God of Salvation, a God who had saved and who could save in real and tangible ways, the people could not but be happy in their worship. This at least was the mood of pre-exilic times. From the exile on, the religion became much more somber; but joy was far from being obliterated. The call to “give thanks to Jehovah, for He is good; for His mercy endureth for ever,” is peculiarly frequent in post-exilic times. The one hundred and seventh Psalm is an eloquent and grateful testimony to the goodness of Jehovah. Many of the later Psalms form one continuous shout of jubilation (Psalms 145-150), and some of the later prayers acknowledge very fully the goodness of God to Israel in history (Nehemiah 9).

Nevertheless, petition vastly outweighed thanks­giving. With a deepening recognition of the majesty of God, petition becomes more reverent. The old complaints, in which man spoke to God as to a friend with whom he was angry, become fewer and fewer. They are common still in Jeremiah; but, except for the book of Job, which is practically a dramatic poem, and some stray utterances in the Psalms, complaints practically disappear. But, with the coming of Jesus, the absence of complaint merges into positive thanksgiving. “Father, I thank Thee”—that was the motto of Jesus. The change is very obvious in the prayers of His greatest disciple. We have already seen how the epistles of Paul are crowded with prayers of thanksgiving, and this proportion between thanks­giving and petition is an altogether new thing in prayer.

Further, the thanks is more personal than was cus­tomary in Jewish prayer. A common introductory formula was, “Blessed be God,” etc.; and this more distant and impersonal form is occasionally retained by Paul himself, who would naturally carry into Christianity many of the usages of the Judaism in which he had been trained (Ephesians 1:3). But the characteris­tically Christian prayer is, “I thank Thee” (Php 1:3; Revelation 11:17). It is warm with the gratitude of a human heart. It im­plies a definite personal relationship of reverent affection. With full heart, the finite man kneels before his infinite Benefactor and says—not merely “Blessed be God,” but—“I thank Thee” And that personal note is made more intensely personal by the thought which, even when unex­pressed, must ever be present to Christian prayer, of the worshipper’s infinite debt to Christ. The fre­quency of Paul’s references to Christ in prayer to God is very significant. It was He who taught men their new relation to the Father, and He who brought them into it. The Christian cannot even call God Father without acknowledging his debt to Christ. And the Christ who taught him that dear name is also the Christ who loved him and gave Himself for him (Galatians 2:20). He knows what he has to be grateful for. He thanks his Father for rain and sunshine, food and raiment, seedtime and harvest, day and night, sorrow and joy, defeat and victory, friendship and love, the inspiration of the past and the opportunities of the present; but, most of all, for His unspeakable gift. The form and spirit that characterize true Christian prayer ultimately rest upon a clear recognition of all that is involved in the fatherhood of God. It is this that makes prayer brief—for the Father knows; and it is this that makes it grateful and glad—for the Father cares.