Men of prayer must be men of steel, for they will be assaulted by Satan even before they attempt to assault his kingdom.
Praying which is merely putting in a request sheet to the Ruler of the Universe is but the smallest side of this many-faced truth. Like everything else in the Christian’s life, prayer can become lopsided. Prayer is no substitute for work; equally true is it that work is no substitute for prayer. In his masterly but little-known work, The Weapon of Prayer, E. M. Bounds says, ‘‘It is better to let the work go by default than to let the praying go by neglect.’’ Again he says, ‘‘The most efficient agents in disseminating the knowledge of God, in prosecuting His work upon the earth, and in standing as a breakwater against the billows of evil, have been praying church leaders. God depends upon them, employs them, and blesses them.’’
Surely revival delays because prayer decays. Nothing do Satan or hell fear more than praying men. But to live well you don’t have to live long. A man only twenty-eight years old may die a hundred years old in wisdom. The dragonfly rends his husk and harnesses himself in a clean plate of sapphire mail for a pilgrimage to the dewy fields lasting but a few days; yet no flowers on earth have a richer blue than the color of his cuirass. So in the spiritual sphere, the richest garments of the soul are spun on the looms of prayer and dyed in the travail that fills up the sufferings of Christ. Fellow missionaries envied Henry Martyn’s spirituality. One says of him, ‘‘Oh to be able to emulate his excellences, his elevation of piety, his diligence, his superiority to the world, his love for souls, his anxiety to improve all occasions to do souls good, his insight into Christ and the heavenly temper!’’ These are the secrets of the wonderful impression he made in India. Martyn says of himself, ‘‘The ways of wisdom appear more sweet and reasonable than ever, and the world more insipid and vexatious.’’ ‘‘The chief thing I mourn over,’’ he adds, ‘‘is my want of power and lack of fervour in secret prayer, especially when I plead for the heathen. In proportion to my light, warmth does not increase within me.’’ Does anybody feel like casting the first stone at Henry Martyn? Would we not all have to say that in intercession we lack ‘‘heat’’?
By its very nature, fire begets fire. If other combustible material is about, fire will only spread its kind. ‘‘See how great a matter a little fire kindleth.’’ Fire can never make ice, the devil certainly cannot make saints; neither can prayerless pastors produce warriors of intercession; yet one spark from an anvil may set a city on fire. From one candle, ten thousand others may take a light! From the matchless prayer life of David Brainerd, outstanding stars in the firmament of soul-winners have caught their initial light (like Carey, Payson, etc.).
William Carey read Brainerd’s life story, and a dynamo started within the young soul-winner’s breast, finally landing him on India’s coral strand. At the flame of Brainerd’s molten soul, the candle of Edward Payson’s heart was lighted under God. Thus from just the diary of the pain-wracked, cowhide-clad apostle to the North American Indians, Payson caught the motivating inspiration, and began at twenty a prayer life that almost eclipsed Brainerd’s. To add yet another soul-kinsman of Brainerd’s, another master of prayer, who tottered into his grave at the ‘‘ripe old age’’ of twenty-nine years, we speak of Robert Murray McCheyne. This giant in prayer was first magnetized to this ‘‘greatest of all human offices that the soul of man can exercise’’ by reading about Brainerd.
Then another soul, the great Jonathan Edwards, watched Brainerd (while his daughter Jerusha wept), as the tides of consumption grew greater over Brainerd’s body. Godly Edwards wrote: ‘‘I praise God that in His providence Brainerd should die in my house so that I might hear his prayers, so that I might witness his consecration, and be inspired by his example.’’ When Brainerd was dying, Wesley was in about the prime of his spiritual conquest. Listen to Master Wesley talking to his conference in England. (Bear in mind here the other chapter where I quoted Dr. Sangster at this year’s (1958) Methodist Conference in England.) Wesley said, ‘‘What can be done to revive the work of the Lord where it has decayed?’’ And then the relentless, tireless evangelist, who shook three kingdoms, answered his own question by saying, ‘‘Let every preacher read carefully the life of David Brainerd.’’
So there we have it. Let’s line them up: Payson, Mc-Cheyne, Carey, Edwards, Wesley—men of renown, yet all kindled by one flame, and all debtors to the sickly but supplicating Brainerd.
The conflict of the ages is upon us. This unbiblical distorted thing called the church, that mixes with the world and dishonors its so-called Lord, has been found out for what it is, a fraud. The true Church is born from above. In it there are no sinners, and outside of it no saints. No man can put another’s name on its member’s roll; and no man can cross another’s name off that roll. This Church—of which, bless the Lord, there is still a small remnant in the world—lives and moves and has its being in prayer. Prayer is its soul’s sincere desire.
As the first atom bomb shook Hiroshima, so prayer alone can release that power which would shake the hearts of men. This cultured paganism at our doors, those idol temples, those fear-gripped, sin-mesmerized millions can only be moved to God as the Church is moved of God for their lost condition. With every possible guile that he knows, the devil would snatch us from the closet of prayer. For in prayer man is linked with God, and in that union Satan is baffled and beaten. Well he knows this; and so, if the closet is shut tightly, the mind is invaded with legitimate cares or with imaginations as big or more real than life. Here we need to plead our main defense—the blood. Another useful way to offset wandering thoughts and to help concentration is to pray audibly or to give some utterance at least, though it need not be loud.
Having thus moved and gained the mastery over Satan, our next power is in the ‘‘exceeding great and precious promises of God.’’ Here we are on concrete foundation. Here are our trading currencies with heaven. Here God is pledged, and longs to hear us honor Him. Here we may be engaged in warfare not with God but against principalities, for Satan delights in loss no more than any other being. Souls of men are his treasures. Damned souls, doubting souls, drunk souls, disobedient souls, sick souls, religious souls, souls of the young, souls of the old, and all souls outside of the regenerating power of the Spirit are mastered by him, though the degrees of his mastery vary. Souls, in various degrees of spirituality, are special targets for his fiery arrows, but the ‘‘shield of faith’’ will brush them all off and, bless the Lord, leave us all unscathed. Prayer is not for defence. The shield of faith is for that. Prayer is our secret weapon. (It seems secret to many of the Lord’s people. Who of us, despite all that we have read, claims to know much about this masterly work of prayer?) We do not conquer Satan by prayer; Christ conquered him two thousand years ago. Satan fools and feints, blows and bluffs, and we so often take his threats to heart and forget ‘‘the exceeding greatness of God’s power to usward.’’ The Master Prayer said, ‘‘I give you power over all the power of the enemy.’’ That is the victory. The soul is drawn out in prayer. True prayer is a time-eater. In the elementary stages, the clock seems to drag; later, as the soul gets used to the holy exercise, time flies when we pray. Prayer makes the soul tender. Notice, we never pray for folks we gossip about, and we never gossip about the folk for whom we pray! For prayer is a great detergent. I am aware that the blood is the great soul-cleanser. But in prayer, if there is anything within of condemnation, the blood drawn from Emmanuel’s veins will speak by the Spirit in mighty cleansing.
Satan would have us increase even in Bible knowledge, I believe, as long as we keep from prayer, which is the exercise of the instruction we have received through the Word. What use is deeper knowledge if we have shallower hearts? What use is greater standing with men if we have less standing with God? What use is personal physical hygiene if we have filthiness of the mind and of the spirit? What use is religious piety if we have soul carnality? Why strut with physical strength if we have spiritual weakness? Of what use is worldly wealth if we have spiritual poverty? Who can take comfort in social popularity if he is unknown in hell? Prayer takes care of all these spiritual maladjustments.
The soul that would be free from the false spiritual reckoning of this hour will need to steel itself to a closer walk with God, a calm and heavenly frame of mind. The aspirant for spiritual wealth and for the ear of God will know much loneliness and will eat much of ‘‘the bread of affliction.’’ He may not know too much about family or social opposition; on the other hand, he may. But this is sure, he will know much of soul conflict, and of silences (which may create misunderstandings), and of withdrawal from even the best of company. For lovers love to be alone, and the high peaks of the soul are reached in solitude. The poet says,
‘‘I heard a call, ‘Come follow,’
That was all.
Earth’s joys grew dim,
My soul went after Him,
I rose and followed—
That was all.
Will you not follow
If you hear His call?’’