Sometimes I am more American than Christian; that is, sometimes it is truer to say of me that I am an American who happens to be a Christian than it is to say that I am a Christian who happens to be an American. Too often, I confess, I am motivated by desires that reflect my worldly citizenship instead of my heavenly citizenship.

This is perhaps no where more evident than in the discipline of prayer. Or, more accurately, in the “lack of discipline” of prayer. My “Americanese” shows up first of all in resenting prayer to begin with. After all, as a citizen of the greatest nation in the history of the galaxy (if not the entire universe), I am entitled to certain things. Those “certain things” to which I am entitled include, but are not limited to, anything I want. That I should have to ask God for something is offensive to me as an American, especially since He already knows I need it before I ask (Mt 6.8). I don’t like being bothered with having to ask. I want it, He knows, He should deliver it. What’s the problem?

Then there’s the matter of my right to have an explanation when I’m told what to do. As an American, I shouldn’t have to do anything if it’s not explained to me first. This is because, to my American sensibilities, I have the right to decide whether or not I’ll do something – even if it is the Creator and Sustainer of the universe who is telling me to do it. So if God wants me to pray, He’d better have a good explanation for the trouble He’s creating for me.

The Christian-who-only-happens-to-be-American part of me is disgusted and frightened by this secret arrogance (well, not-so-secret now!), knowing that this is a manifestation of the very reason the wrath of God is being revealed (Rom 1.18). I should pray simply because God tells me to: He is the potter, I am the lumpy little piece of clay, and the latter should do what the Former tells it to do. Talking back is frowned upon (Rom 9.20). What God wants to do is what matters; what I want to do is usually a bad idea.

Still, I search for the sense behind prayer. I recognize the significance of prayer in terms of God’s glory, but I suspect that there’s more to it than that. I think there’s actually some good in it for me, that somehow it is part of the process of maturing in Christ and not just the evidence of maturity. I justify my quest for insight with Pr 25.2: “It is the glory of God to conceal a matter, but the glory of kings is to search out a matter” (NASB).

I am confident – or, at least, hopeful – that my understanding of the purpose of prayer will grow and change in the days and years ahead. Over the course of 30 years of being a Christian, my understanding of things has changed significantly, usually in the direction of realizing my ignorance. Maturity, it seems, is a process of putting away childish things.

What I believe now about prayer is closely connected to my understanding of the process of sanctification and the nature of our physical brains. Before discussing prayer, therefore, please allow me to explain what I believe goes on in the brain of Christians as we mature in Christ.

First, it is important to distinguish between spirit, mind, and brain. The mind is not simply a product of the brain – what some call “nothing buttery” – but is something that is at once independent of and inseparably dependent on the brain, or at least it is in this lifetime.

Think of it as electrical currents (spirit) and the physical circuits (brain) through which the energy flows. We all start with the same basic equipment – a human spirit and a brain – but each of us gets wired differently, depending upon the external environment and unique characteristics of our spirit. Personality is a function of the human spirit but is obviously affected by the physical brain and it’s health or lack thereof. The “mind” is the state of the human spirit and the brain at a moment of time, i.e., it is the makeup of a person’s nature at the particular instant it is being examined.

The spirit is not usually idle, however, and thus our minds are in a continual process of changing in one direction or another. For the Christian, the goal of the change is to be conformed not to the world (Rom 12.2) but to the image of Christ (Col 3.10). But how might this be accomplished? Perhaps it is as follows.

Over time, vast networks of thoughts and feelings are created in the brain. The more frequently a particular constellation of thoughts and feelings is activated, the more likely it becomes that it will be followed the next time, too. This is what creates consistency within us, for better or worse. The more frequently a Christian follows the (neuro)pathway of righteousness, the better the odds that it will be followed in the future.

Unfortunately, the same is true of unrighteous pathways. And the pathways never completely go away in this lifetime – thus the need for new, spiritual bodies in heaven (1 Cor 15.44) – although they do atrophy if not used regularly. Christians, of course, have He who is the Holy Spirit indwelling them: it is He who begins to transform us by creating new pathways in the brain. The material He uses to perform this is the Bible. The Holy Spirit begins making new connections both emotionally and cognitively, detouring us from the old, sinful paths we followed in the past. The more we read the Bible, the more material He has to work with, and the more new ways of thinking, feeling, and behaving He can establish within us.

Our conscious role – that is, the role of our human spirit – is to hitch a ride as the Holy Spirit does His work. We cooperate and facilitate His work by our compliance. We can, of course, quench Him by not following (1 Thes 5.19) and grieve Him by going off in our own direction (Eph 4.30), but He is relentless in His effort to glorify Jesus by changing us.

Prayer, for the purposes of sanctification, is crucial in this process. It is during prayer that we focus exclusively (hopefully) on God and allow the Spirit to work within us. It is for this reason that silence – external and internal – is so important. Our agendas must be silenced to allow the Holy Spirit to bring to mind – literally – the truth of Scripture and to begin to make connections between what we seek and what God says about such things. At both a cognitive and emotional level, the Spirit makes new connections and pathways of righteousness.

Our part in prayer is to stay focused and malleable, to allow Him to take us where He knows we need to go. Our prayers are answered but we must stay “online” long enough to have our minds changed about things. We may get what we seek, but our feelings toward and thoughts about it will change. Or we may not get it, and that will be OK, too.

To pray is to focus. It is to allow God the Holy Spirit to speak to us through the revealed will of God in the Bible. Our own thoughts and feelings must give way. We must yield. In time, we will begin to think His thoughts, see things from His perspective, and feel as He feels about life and what is important. Prayer is perhaps the only time we have such focused attention. Not that worship, service, Bible study, and other disciplines are not important, but prayer is the purest opportunity for the Holy Spirit to change us.


2 Cor 1:13