Prayer is a cop-out

 

Allow me to lay before you a scenario (that you’ve probably experienced if you’ve been on social media for any amount of time, especially during the last several months).

Something horrible happens in the news. People post varying responses to it. Some people are angry, some sad, some are really bad at empathizing, some don’t get why it’s a big deal.

Someone shares their thoughts about the event with an admonition to pray for healing or peace, or whatever they think the situation needs.

Someone else comments that saying you’ll pray for something is the exact opposite of action, and probably is actually more harmful than just saying nothing, because all it does is admit to your inaction and indifference.

I’ve seen this scenario play out more times than I can count, and I used to get a little worked up by that last comment, a little indignant at the ignorance. How can they think prayer amounts to inaction? Praying people know the impact prayer can have, and they’re not trying to be insensitive. They’re doing their best to DO something.

But you know, my thinking around this has shifted somewhat recently. We all know, to some extent, the paralyzation of this pandemic and all the other shocking things on our news feeds. It’s all coming out, we think, because this is a pivotal moment in history and people are fighting for things. Everyone has something to say. Everyone has a cause they’re fighting for. And if you don’t–how can you be sitting still? Your silence is violence.

The echo chamber of social media turns every issue into a personal one. Every status is a rallying cry, every tweet or innocent photo is viewed in the context of the turmoil the world is facing, and we put ourselves on trial for not doing enough, not caring enough. Not reading enough, not listening enough. Not weeping enough. A good day becomes a source of guilt when we are responsible for every piece of information that passes in front of our eyes.

What are YOU doing? The world is demanding to know. Don’t you think you should be DOING something?

And all this makes me think, is prayer action? Or is it inaction? Is it leading the charge for what’s clearly the right answer, or is it demonstrating uncertainty and hesitancy? Is the praying person taking a back seat, accepting defeat? In this world of privilege and oppression, of power and politics, of injustice and inhumanity, is the praying person really DOING anything?

And I have to say, in the midst of all this noise, that I think the answer is no.

No. When you pray, you aren’t DOING anything. Doing something implies a confidence in purpose, a notion that there is something in a situation that you have the power to control or fix.

Prayer is the opposite of that.

In prayer, you ARE acknowledging your own uncertainty. You are recognizing your own powerlessness. You are choosing to be silent, to be humble, to admit that you don’t have all the answers. You are letting go of the need to strive. You are relinquishing control of the things that overwhelm you. Prayer IS a cop out–but it’s a necessary one.

There are things in our lives that we can control. But so much of our lives–so much in the world–has gotten so completely out of control lately that we’re drowning.

And can we even recognize that? Can we even see how obtuse it is to think that we, as humans, who can barely maintain a grip on our sleep schedules or diets or finances, could somehow be qualified to take on all the world’s problems simply because we are AWARE of them? Suffocated by the weight of our own lives, we just keep reaching for extra pillows, thinking that somehow if we pull them all in close enough we’ll be able to learn how to breathe through them.

We aren’t equipped for this. We never were. Which is why prayer exists in the first place–it removes the responsibility from our shoulders, where we’ve placed it, and gives it up to God, whose hands can contain all the burdens of this world and then some. Prayer is an opportunity to say “I have no idea what I’m doing,” and to not be ashamed of that.

To say, someone help me! I’m tired of doing this by myself. I CAN’T do this by myself.

To say you give up, and hear God’s mighty voice answer: “now you will see what I can do.”