Charles Bridges, in his classic work The Christian Ministry, wrote, “‘The spirit of our ministry is a spirit of prayer.’ Prayer is the ornament of the priesthood, the leading feature of our character. Without prayer, the minister is of no use to the church, nor of any advantage to mankind . . . It is prayer alone that gives the whole strength and efficacy to our different administrations . . . Prayer therefore is one half of our ministry; and it gives to the other half all its power and success.”¹

The Prince of Preachers, Charles Haddon Spurgeon, seems to agree when he says, “The preacher is above all others distinguished as a man of prayer. He prays as an ordinary Christian, else he were a hypocrite. He prays more than ordinary Christians, else he were disqualified for the office which he has undertaken.”²

I doubt any pastor would disagree with these vaunted 19th century brothers, but I do suspect that reading the quotes above brings a convicting cringe. Let’s face it, praying pastors are hard to find. Where today is the pastor whom, like Luther, gives his three best hours to the work of prayer?

My personal journey of devotion to prayer has been a long, painful, and often disappointing one. In my early days of ministry prayer was virtually non-existent; Spurgeon would have surely given me a good dressing down. Yet, God was kind to poke and prod in all the right places. The initial pokes were more like strong stabs as God handed me a cup of ministerial suffering to cause – among other things – my knees to become more familiar with the floor. Yet, once the suffering passed the peculiar devotion to prayer passed as well. Prayer, in my life, has ordinarily been a fleeting and vaporous devotion. The next poke came with the arrival of our first son. Parenting is a gloriously burdensome responsibility, a load lightened by devotion in prayer. But once it was clear my boy would be healthy and would sleep through the night, the winds of life again blew away devotion to prayer. God’s third poke came from one old Puritan and one modern Puritan. In the span of one month I read Thomas Brooks’ The Privy Key to Heaven and watched Joel Beeke deliver a stirring address at the Desiring God Pastor’s Conference on the pastor’s prayer life. The Spirit used this two-pronged Puritan prod to strike the deepest blow to date; secret prayer became more habitual and joyful. The final notable work of God in this area happened just over nine months ago when we planted a church. Few things will cause familiarity with the closet as bearing the primary preaching and pastoral responsibility.

I am by no means a Luther, Bradford, or Spurgeon when it comes to prayer; I am little more than an impatient plodder in the prioritizing of prayer. But God continues to mold and shape the frame that only He can build. Over the years I have discovered eight particular helps for persistence in the “first half of ministry,” and I post them here in hope that God might use them to poke and prod you unto devotion in prayer.

1. Study your Bible. It’s only in the Good Book that we find the goodness of our God and glory of His gospel. Consistently deep study of Scripture fuels an intimate knowledge of God that will naturally overflow into intimate communion with God. Deeper knowledge of God leads to deeper love of God, which in turn leads to deeper conversation with God.
2. Set a time. Few things in life get done without the intentional setting aside of time. Extended time in prayer needs exactly that, time. The demands of pastoral ministry are legion and will easily cut out prayer if a particular time is not protected. It seems best to carve out a few different periods for prayer throughout the day rather than lumping them all into one. Matthew Henry was on to something when he talked about beginning, spending, and ending your day with prayer. Personally, I find the middle afternoon hours are best for extended prayer, so that’s where I carve out a good chunk of time. For you it could be early in the morning or late at night.
3. Find your “closet.” Prayer has to be the most easily distracted spiritual discipline. Thus, it’s probably imperative that you find your “closet,” a place free of audible and visual distractions. This could be a spot in your house, a room in your church building, or a place out in the community. I happen to enjoy our master bedroom closet, but you might like a bench at tranquil park.
4. Have a plan. Aimless prayer is the seedbed for distracted prayer. Keep up a running prayer list that’s easily accessible via a journal, computer, tablet, or phone. Break the list up into categories that you find helpful; my list includes headings like, “Personal,” “Family,” “Church,” “Ministry,” “Missions,” etc.
5. Work less. Henry Martyn, in evaluating his first year of ministry, said he had dedicated “too much time to public ministrations, and too little to private communion with God.” Prayer is indeed pastoral work, but rarely do we think of it that way. Sometimes the only way to devote time to this work is to cut some of the other work.
6. Pray with others. The work of gospel ministry is always helped when done in concert with others. The work of prayer is no different. Few things encourage longevity in prayer as does regular prayer with others. This can be your family, a few co-laborers in ministry, a couple church members, or all of the above.
7. Read a good book on prayer. Because I am so prone to focus on everything but prayer, I find that having my reading list occupied with a book on prayer helps prioritize the work of prayer. Here are some books that have helped me.
8. Read a good book of prayers. Our prayers inevitably become stale and rote, thus a good book of prayers can be your best friend in cutting through the monotony. Psalms is a great place to start, for as you pray through a Psalm you will find the Spirit bringing a myriad of other concerns to mind through the inspired text. You might also try The Valley of Vision, Lifting Up Our Hearts, The Pastor in Prayer, or Henry’s Method for Prayer.

Any other helps you would offer?

“If you are in any form of spiritual leadership, work at your public prayers. It does not matter whether the form of spiritual leadership you exercise is the teaching of a Sunday school class, pastoral ministry, small-group evangelism, or anything else: if at any point you pray in public as a leader, then work at your public prayers.

Some people think this advice distinctly corrupt.  It smells too much of public relations, of concern for public image.  After all, whether we are praying in private or in public, we are praying to God: Surely he is the one we should be thinking about, no one else.

This objection misses the point.  Certainly if we must choose between trying to please God in prayer, and trying to please our fellow creatures, we must unhesitatingly opt for the former.  But that is not the issue.  It is not a question of pleasing our human hearers, but of instructing them and edifying them.

The ultimate sanction for this approach is none less than Jesus himself.  At the tomb of Lazarus, after the stone has been removed, Jesus looks to heaven and prays, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me.  I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me” (John 11:41-42).  Here, then, is a prayer of Jesus himself that is shaped in part by his awareness of what his human hearers need to hear.

The point is that although public prayer is addressed to God, it is addressed to God while others are overhearing it.  Of course, if the one who is praying is more concerned to impress these human hearers than to pray to God, then rank hypocrisy takes over.  That is why Jesus so roundly condemns much of the public praying of his day and insists on the primacy of private prayer (Matt. 6:5-8).  But that does not mean that there is no place at all for public prayer.  Rather, it means that public prayer ought to be the overflow of one’s private praying.  And then, judging by the example of Jesus at the tomb of Lazarus, there is ample reason to reflect on just what my prayer, rightly directed to God, is saying to the people who hear me.

In  brief, public praying is a pedagogical opportunity.  It provides the one who is praying with an opportunity to instruct or encourage or edify all who hear the prayer.  In liturgical churches, many of the prayers are well-crafted, but to some ears they lack spontaneity.  In nonliturgical churches, many of the prayers are so predictable that they are scarcely any more spontaneous than written prayers, and most of them are not nearly as well-crafted.  The answer to both situations is to provide more prayers that are carefully and freshly prepared.  That does not necessarily mean writing them out verbatim (though that can be a good thing to do).  At the least, it means thinking through in advance and in some detail just where the prayer is going, preparing, perhaps, some notes, and memorizing them.

Public praying is a responsibility as well as a privilege.  In the last century, the great English preacher Charles Spurgeon did not mind sharing his pulpit: others sometimes preached in his home church even when he was present.  But when he came to the “pastoral prayer,” if he was present, he reserved that part of the service for himself.  This decision did not arise out of any priestly conviction that his prayers were more efficacious than those of others.  Rather, it arose from his love for his people, his high view of prayer, his conviction that public praying should not only intercede with God but also instruct and edify and encourage the saints.

Many facets of Christian discipleship, not least prayer, are rather more effectively passed on by modeling than by formal teaching.  Good praying is more easily caught than taught.  If it is right to say that we should choose models from whom we can learn, then the obverse truth is that we ourselves become responsible to become models for others.  So whether you are leading a service or family prayers, whether you are praying in a small-group Bible study or at a convention, work at your public prayers.”

D. A. Carson, A Call to Spiritual Reformation: Priorities from Paul and His Prayers (Baker, 1992), 34-35.  HT: Brian Hedges