Natural conversation

 

A little boy was asked one day if he said prayers before his meals. He replied, “I don’t have to—my mum’s a good cook!” It’s a great and rather innocent reply, but it points to something much deeper: that is how easily we associate prayer only with need. 

We sometimes treat prayer as merely the spiritual equivalent of seasoning—sprinkled over life in moments of desperation. But the truth is, prayer is not an emergency button or a decorative ritual—it is actually the very language of relationship with God.

For many of us, prayer comes naturally when we’re in a crisis: in illness, in grief, in anxiety. But what about on ordinary days? What about in the mundane, or in the joyful, in the hopeful? It then doesn’t seem to flow so naturally. But, what if prayer wasn’t just a reaction, but a rhythm of life?

Rowan Williams beautifully wrote, “The Lord’s Prayer is completely fresh. It never gets stale because what it’s talking about is the human condition in the presence of God.” He reminds us that the Lord’s Prayer is a bridge between the world as it is—and the world as God intends it to be. And that bridge, like so much of our faith, is revolutionary. When we pray “your kingdom come,” we’re inviting divine disruption. We’re seeking God’s justice to flow into unjust places, God’s mercy into hardened hearts, God’s provision into dry deserts.

Think about this more. When Jesus teaches us to ask for daily bread, to seek forgiveness, to extend mercy - he’s not offering polite, passive phrases. He is giving us language that can reshape communities and heal brokenness.

This revolutionary spirit is at the heart of our Diocesan mission statement: Faith in Our Future. That’s a call to cultivate hope, embrace renewal, and recognise that prayer isn’t just an inward devotion—it’s an outward mission. It’s about changing things, including ourselves. 

Our faith doesn’t live in the past, it breathes into the future. And our future begins with prayer. And that prayer is any sort of conversation - it doesn’t have to involve attractive well constructed language - it is our honest petition to God. And it recognises our need to depend on God day by day. 

In Paul’s letter to the Colossians, he speaks of lives “rooted and built up in Christ.” He cautions against empty philosophies and distractions that shift our gaze from the truth that Jesus is to be our example as well as our inspiration for life... In a world filled with noise and busyness, we are reminded to re-centre our lives on Jesus - not through our abilities or performance or perfection, but through prayerful dependence.

And isn’t that the challenge of today? With so much vying for our attention—political tension, economic anxiety, personal pressures—it is easy to drift from the focus that is Jesus. But faith calls us back. Prayer calls us deeper. Not just to survive the week, but to shape a life built on what lasts. A life that isn’t just about survival but is about the possibility of thriving in what we do and who we are.

Our world may reward strength and self-sufficiency in material terms, but the Kingdom of God honours humility, persistence, and trust. Consider Jesus’ teaching to his disciples: ‘Ask, and it will be given; seek, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened’. These aren’t mere suggestions—they’re invitations to relentless trust.

Jesus shares the story of a friend knocking for bread at midnight. Though it’s inconvenient and poorly timed, persistence wins the day. And in this story we see that prayer isn’t measured by eloquence or convenience, but by sincerity and perseverance. Even when the door seems shut, even when answers feel distant—God listens. We are never alone.

And just in case we doubt his goodness, Jesus offers an image of a parent giving to their child: ‘If your child asks for a fish, would you give a snake? If your child asks for an egg, would you give a scorpion?’ Of course not. And if earthly parents can give so generously, how much more will your Father in heaven?

There’s real power in those stories. Power to remind us that prayer is both simple and yet sacred. That God’s love exceeds human love, and that the answers may not always look how we expect—but they will be filled with grace.

Martin Luther captured this beautifully when he said, “Pray as if everything depends on God; work as if everything depends on you.” Prayer is not a substitute for action—it is the fuel for action. It invites us to be transformed, not just informed. To serve, not just speak. To live out what we believe.

And so, we come back to the idea of Faith in Our Future. Because our future as a church isn’t just about buildings or the number of people attending our services, important though these things are. But the future is about people—people rooted in prayer, built in faith, overflowing with love. People who dare to trust that God is not finished with the church, with our communities, or with us.

Let us be a people who pray boldly. Who recognise that the smallest voice lifted in prayer can, as I once heard it said, echo through eternity. Who know that prayer is not weakness—it is strength. And let us reclaim prayer not just as routine, but as relationship. Not just as silence, but as surrender. Not just in times of the most need, but something as regular and natural as breathing. 

 William Barclay offered this encouragement and reflection... He wrote:

“When we pray, remember:  The love of God that wants the best for us,  The wisdom of God that knows what is best for us,  The power of God that can accomplish it.”

Prayer is God’s gift to us. It’s a gift to be tried and explored, to be used and enjoyed… Let’s not let it gather dust. Let us rise with it in the morning. Let us move forward with it through each day. Let us lay down at night with prayer and always, know that we are building our future on it. Amen