Lou: We’ve explored talking to God as with a friend. Yet I can still remember the shock I felt when in a public prayer, a seminary student spoke to God with a familiar “You.” I wondered at the time if this young man had lost his way. But really, when we come to church, we usually put on special clothes, something that’s just a little different than other times, out of respect. Isn’t there an analogy here perhaps as to the kind of language that we ought to use when we talk to God? He is our Friend, but we still want to show respect for His majesty. What about that?

Graham: It’s true that many of us dress in a special way when we come to church. But I don’t see us wearing antique clothing. And so, when we come into the presence of God, I believe we should use the best words we know to express ourselves. We should be reverent and respectful, to be clear, but it doesn’t mean we use old-fashioned words.

Lou: But isn’t reverence and respect the purpose of the “Thees” and “Thous?”

Graham: I believe that has come to be true for many, but I think people need to realize why they are doing it. The Thees and the Thous and the wists and the wots are the way English was spoken in those days. Folks can look at the Preface to the King James Version and notice that the language there is the same. Actually, if the garbage collector came in those days, you might say, “We salute thee, thou gatherer of refuse, and we prithee that thou wouldst place yonder vessel ere.” That’s how you would speak to the garbage man. That’s the way you talked to everybody back then. But today people say about our common speech, “Well, that’s no way to talk to God.” But King James English was simply the common language of the day. It’s beautiful language, but it was not special at that time. Forty years ago I was explaining that there’s no basis in the original language for using Thee and Thou and wist and wot. Yet I still find myself saying Thee and Thou when praying in public. These words have become a symbol of something, so I’m still doing it.

Lou: What words do you use in your personal prayer?

Graham: I often say “You,” and I’m comfortable with that. But I must say, I like the way you pray. You say “You” to God, but you say it very reverently; it’s in the tone of your voice. It’s in your choice of words. So I feel it’s very reverent. I’m accustomed to Thee and Thou in public prayer, and there are a number of people I feel might be a little distressed if I switched. I don’t want words to be a barrier. But maybe I’m just getting too old to shift.

Lou: Well, I’ve gone through my own struggle with that, and it strikes me that I really made the change after I came here to Loma Linda. Even here I wondered how the congregation would feel.

Graham: I think the important thing is: “Rend your heart and not your garments” (Joel 2:13). If the reverence is in your heart, the language is not the important thing. I want words to be my servant, and I want to use them with care. I’m ready to change as need be.

Lou: The crucial thing is that prayer is talking to God as to a friend.

Graham: Language mustn’t stand between us and our God.

Lou: It seems to me that this topic comes under the heading of what we could call “Practical Godliness.” You have been talking about our daily walk with God and practical Christianity. And people have a lot of questions about such things. These questions are not theoretical. They really address how we go about living our lives. The first question has to do with the wording of the Lord’s Prayer, the version you quoted didn’t sound familiar. “If we’re going to pray the Lord’s Prayer, shouldn’t we use the words that Jesus gave us instead of some new translation like this?”

Graham: Well, if we were to use the words that Jesus used, we would have to speak in Aramaic.

Lou: But King James English is so familiar to us, Graham. It’s so ingrained in our lives and in the worship of all Christian churches.

Graham: I think there’s a very important lesson in this. For the Sermon on the Mount, we are most familiar with the version of the Lord’s Prayer recorded in Matthew (6:9-13). But the version recorded in Luke (11:2-4) is the version He gave to His disciples when they came and said, “Teach us to pray.” The two are similar, but they have interesting differences, and that’s the point. As the Preface to the King James Version says, “The Kingdom of God is not words and syllables; it’s the great ideas.” You can translate those into any language. So it’s the meaning of the Lord’s Prayer that counts and not the precise words.

Lou: So this isn’t a prayer to be repeated over and over?

Graham: I don’t think we can pray it too often if it’s a meaningful experience. But the danger is, we can go from “Our Father” to “Amen” and not even remember what we have said in between, because we’ve done it so often.

Lou: That leads to another question: Why is this called the Lord’s Prayer?

Graham: It’s called the Pater Noster in the Latin. “Pater” in Latin means “father,” and “noster” means “our.” Our Father. Actually, Jesus prayed other prayers that could be called the Lord’s Prayer. For example, that magnificent chapter 17 in John, when in the hearing of His disciples He prayed to the Father. Now that’s really the Lord’s Prayer. The title is just tradition, that’s all.

Lou: It might be better to say this is “our” prayer, the one He gave to us.

Graham: Yes. That’s right.

Lou: In many translations, the prayer seems to end abruptly. Those great words, “For Thine is the Kingdom, and the power and the glory” (Matt 6:13, KJV) are left out (compare the ESV, RSV and NIV with the KJV).

Graham: That’s because in the early manuscripts of Matthew it’s not there. And it isn’t in any manuscripts of Luke. So apparently when the Lord actually gave the “Lord’s Prayer,” it ended with, “Deliver us from evil or the evil one.” But does that mean we should stop repeating the doxology (a statement of praise) at the end? There’s a doxology in 1 Chronicles 29 that is four times as long as this one (1 Chr 29:10-13). David prayed it himself. It’s simply magnificent. So if one wants to be a purist when doing this, you could switch to 1 Chronicles 29 when you come to the end of the Lord’s Prayer. It’s very biblical and it’s also very beautiful. Personally, I like ending the prayer with a doxology. Jesus on other occasions may well have done the same. So it’s a beautiful custom to say the whole traditional prayer, as long as it’s meaningful and we’re thinking about it.

Lou: There’s something in the Lord’s Prayer as we traditionally use it that has puzzled me. In other churches they say, “Forgive us our trespasses,” while some of us were brought up saying, “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.” Which is right?

Graham: Actually, this was a problem in our home. Growing up in England, it was always “trespasses.” When we moved to this country, we learned “debts,” and the younger members of the family all changed, but my father never did. So even when I took my children home, they always knew, when praying with Grandpa, it was, “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” But in my own home it was, “Forgive us our debts,” and I don’t recall my children ever making a mistake, although I’ve heard people in church sometimes fumble over this.

Lou: Where did the word “trespasses” come from? Is that a particular translation?

Graham: The English Book of Common Prayer was quite an influence on the way some of these things are phrased. I think of Handel’s Messiah. “Why do the nations so furiously rage together?” You look in vain for that in the King James Version. It comes out of The Book of Common Prayer, I believe.

Lou: So maybe the word “trespasses” was used to avoid the idea that debts had to do with a money problem, rather than sin.

Graham: I like the translation that adds “if we’ve wronged anyone.” The meaning is clear. And the variety of words helps us concentrate on the meaning. That’s the all-important thing.

Lou: Now in the New English Bible it says, “Save us from the evil one” (Matt 6:13). The familiar version of that phrase is “deliver us from evil.” What’s the difference between evil and the evil one?

Graham: The Greek is exactly the same. To be delivered from the evil one is indeed to be delivered from evil; so it makes no difference. Many versions prefer “the evil one.” It brings the Great Controversy to mind rather vividly. But either way, the point is clear.

Lou: When we pray “lead us not into temptation,” what are we really praying? Does that imply, “God, be careful; please don’t get me into temptation?” Would God really want to do that?

Graham: It helps to know that the word “temptation” here actually means trial or testing. Some versions have, “Lead us not into hard testing.” The idea that God would tempt is unthinkable; James deals with this (James 1:13-15). He tells us that when we’re tempted, we shouldn’t even blame the Devil. “You are led away by your own lusts and enticements” (based on James 1:14). Certainly don’t blame God. He wouldn’t do any such thing. So “lead us not into temptation” cannot mean, “Please, don’t You tempt us,” but, “Lead us not into difficult trials.” Jesus prayed something similar in Gethsemane. He said there: “Remove this cup from Me, if possible” (based on Matthew 26:39). I don’t think we should pray, “Lord, I’m ready for it. Bring on the trials; I feel very strong today.” I believe we should say, “Lord, in all humility, don’t bring me into trial; nevertheless, Your will be done.”
“Lead us not into testing” must be coupled with, “Nevertheless, Your will be done.” Jesus did it in Gethsemane (Matt 26:39, 42; Mark 14:36), and we do it in the Lord’s Prayer (Matt 6:10). The Lord’s Prayer and the prayer in Gethsemane are very similar in a number of respects. So I think the prayer in Gethsemane helps us to understand the Lord’s Prayer.

When we have such a relationship, prayer simply cannot be a trite formality, it is honest conversation about the things that matter the most to us. Above all, the conversation must be honest, or it isn’t real friendship after all. Suppose there’s a Brother Jones working near you who is irritating you to death and that night you kneel and say, “Oh Lord, do bless Brother Jones. Thou knowest how I love him.” If you listen closely you might hear God say, “That’s very sweet. But, why don’t you tell me the truth? You hate the ground he walks on. And if you would only just admit it, maybe I could begin to help you. But so long as you pretend, there is not much I can do.”

When King David was depressed, he said so:

Will the Lord spurn forever, and never again be favorable? Has his steadfast love for ever [sic] ceased? Are his promises at an end for all time? Has God forgotten to be gracious? . . . And I say, “It is my grief that the right hand of the Most High has changed” (Psa 77:7-10, RSV).

David said that to God in prayer. Of course, that is only the first half of the psalm. You will find at the end of the seventy-seventh Psalm how David resolved his depression (Psa 77:11-20). But if David wanted vengeance, he wouldn’t say, “Lord, thou knowest how I love Brother Isaac and I hope his crops will flourish this year,” when really David wished that the blood of Brother Isaac would flow down the street and would water the furrows of his field and the locusts would consume his crops! So David would kneel and say something like, “Lord, thou knowest my thoughts anyway, so why should I pretend?” Based on Psalm 139:1-12. Then he would continue:

O that thou wouldst slay the wicked, O God. . . . Do I not hate them that hate thee, O Lord? And do I not loathe them that rise up against thee? I hate them with perfect hatred; I count them my enemies. Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting (Psalm 139:19, 21-24, RSV).

In this passage David invited healing. He knew he needed a new heart and a right spirit, truth in the inner man. So first he presented himself honestly to God. He said, “You know all my thoughts anyway. So, why should I hide? You know how I feel. So search me and may my thoughts and the meditations and the words of my mouth be acceptable to you.”

If you should watch a loved one die, and you should cry, “Why God? Why?” would God be offended? Or would the God you know reach down and put an arm around your shoulder and say, “I understand how you feel. You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t feel that way. Someday I’ll make it plain to you. I wish I could right now. But please trust Me, and trust Me enough to be willing to wait.” But, you see, we have to know God well before those emergencies arise, so that we can trust Him and pray to Him like this.

Paul assures us that the Holy Spirit will help us pray: “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought. . . .” Rom 8:26, RSV. And so the Holy Spirit brings the truth about God to us. He helps us to see that truth and to be convinced about it. He helps us see the truth about ourselves, and learn how to tell that truth to our gracious heavenly Father. And then God can do good things for us. Paul even said we should pray without ceasing: “Never stop praying.” 1 Thess 5:17, Norlie. Or as Goodspeed translates it: “Never give up praying.” But if we should spend all our time on our knees, we would never get anything else done. So how can one pray without ceasing and still be effective in this life? To put it simply, prayer in its very essence is thinking toward God. It means that God is at the very center of our thoughts. Eventually it becomes a habit that God should be at the very center of all our plans, always.

When we see God face to face one day, will that be the end of prayer? Could prayer be yet another of the emergency measures that keep the channels of communication open between God and His children, until the time comes when there will be no need for emergency measures anymore? What do we mean when we sing, “Farewell, farewell, sweet hour of prayer?” Do we mean “Farewell, farewell, I will never talk to you again, God?” No, if prayer is conversation with a friend, then when we meet God face to face, the hour of prayer will have just begun.

Is it all right to ask questions of our God? Job certainly did. He boldly, reverently, agonized with God—to the consternation of his friends. They worried that God would smite Job down for daring to talk to the Father like this. In a way, the whole book of Job is on this subject. Note what Job says in the following excerpts:

If only my life could once again be as it was when God watched over me. God was always with me then. . . . And the friendship of God protected my home. . . . I call to you, O God, but you never answer; and when I pray, you pay no attention (Job 29:2-4; 30:20, GNB).

How that worried Job’s friends! But was God offended? No, to the contrary. God later said to the three friends, “You did not speak the truth about me, the way my servant Job did” (Job 42:7, GNB). You see, Job knew God and he honored God with those cries. But God was not talking to him just then. And Job was deeply upset, because their friendship seemed to be at an end. So what upset Job’s friends actually complimented God, and spoke well of their relationship.

Surely there are serious questions we also could ask about God. Think of the accidents that happen, sometimes to the best people among us. Did that person’s guardian angels relax their protection? Serious questions about God often arise when people are dying or seriously ill. Why is it that God sometimes does not heal his trusting friends, even though we ask Him to? I believe that God, as we know Him, might well say to us, “Trust Me. I can’t explain it to you just now. I hope that you will trust Me enough to wait for the day when I can make it plain to you. I hope you have found enough evidence and enough reason for trusting Me that much. Besides, you know I would never allow you to be tried and tested more than you are able to bear.” Paul expressed this clearly later on: “God can be depended on not to let you be tried beyond your strength” (1 Cor 10:13, Goodspeed). Or as he said in Romans: “We know that in all things God works for good with those who love him. . . .” Rom 8:28, GNB.

If we trusted God enough to really listen, then, we might hear God provoke the questions Himself. Think about how God provoked His friend Abraham as He was on His way down to Sodom and Gomorrah to consume those cities. He said, “I wouldn’t do this without first telling My friend, Abraham.” In response Abraham dared to reason with his God: “Then Abraham drew near, and said, ‘Wilt thou indeed destroy the righteous with the wicked? . . . Far be that from thee! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?’” Gen 18:23, 25, RSV. Have you ever dared to say something like that to God? Was God offended by what Abraham said? No, “Abraham was called God’s friend” (Jam 2:23, GNB).

And that’s just one of the places in the Bible where God is addressed in such a way. You may remember how God spoke to Moses, another of His friends. He essentially said, “I am sick and tired of these people [the Israelites]. Step aside and let me destroy them” (based on Exod 32:9-10). But look at how Moses responds to God:

Then the Egyptians will hear of it. . . . The nations who have heard thy fame will say, “Because the Lord was not able to bring this people into the land which he swore to give to them, therefore he has slain them in the wilderness” (Num 14:13, 15-16, RSV).

In this passage Moses showed his jealousy for God’s reputation. Was God offended by this? No, “The Lord would speak with Moses face-to-face, just as a man speaks with a friend” (Exod 33:11, GNB). Now, one would need to know God very well to talk to God like this. And surely Moses and Abraham knew God well. You recall how even Peter once dared to say “No” to God. In fact, he did it three times in his vision of the unclean animals (Acts 10:5-16). “There came a voice to him, `Rise, Peter; kill and eat.’ But Peter said, `No, Lord’” (Acts 10:13-14, RSV). Did God rebuke Peter for doing that? No, this is the kind of relationship that God desires to have with us, His children.

Conversation means at least two people speaking. But how do we converse with God when we can’t see Him because of the present emergency? In this emergency situation, He does not reveal Himself visibly to us, for our sakes. This is why the Bible is called the Word of God—it is God speaking to us. If we wish to hear God speak, except in extraordinary circumstances, He speaks to us through the Bible. We speak to Him in prayer. Truly, as someone has said, “We commune with God through the study of the Scriptures.”

I certainly find prayer much more meaningful while reading the Bible. Have you ever had the experience of talking to God while reading certain parts of the Scriptures? I often find myself saying out loud, “That’s magnificent!” Who am I talking to at that moment? That’s real conversation. We read and we listen in that way. And then we talk back to God.

Going back to the imaginary fellowship room, our heavenly Father waits and we begin to speak. What language should we use? Should we look at our heavenly Father respectfully and say, “We prithee Lord that Thou wouldst bestow unctions upon us from on high?” I think He would smile sweetly and say, “Please relax, you can talk a little more plainly if you wish.” Unless of course, you are used to talking that way all the time. But did the disciples talk to God that way? Did Moses? Did Abraham? No, they all used up to date, everyday speech. They wanted to be clear. It was the language of their times.

I believe if we began to speak to God in that fellowship room, we would surely be reverent, yet we would be conversing with a friend and should use the kind of language we would use with our closest friends. Just what that should be is a personal preference. But surely we would use the best possible language to clarify our convictions, our feelings, our desires, our admirations, and our worship. The important thing is to converse with our heavenly Father as with a friend.

So what language would you use? Jesus addressed His Father as “Abba, Father” (Mark 14:36). Abba is the Aramaic word for “father.” So it is almost like saying, “Father, Father,” although it is a term of endearment. Some versions translate “Abba, Father” as “Dear Father,” the way some of us like to start our prayers. Paul urges us to do the same in Romans (8:15) and Galatians (4:6). He says that when the Spirit of Truth dwells within us, we will address the Father as “Dear Father.”

But most importantly, what would you talk about? Would you take time on such a precious occasion to say, “Thank you, God, for today’s groceries and here is my list for tomorrow, amen,” and then go on about your business? Or would you say, “Bless the missionaries as they carry the truth to the far-flung corners of the earth”? The Lord might say, “How sweet. How is it that you only think of these things when you are praying?” Of course, if you are the mother of a missionary, it would be appropriate for you to talk to God about your loved ones. But if we only think about missionaries when we talk to God, why do we talk about them and not the things we have really been thinking about all day?

You see, those well-worn phrases we think we ought to use when we pray, might seem rather empty when we are talking face to face with God. Suppose one of us left the meeting and walked with God through a garden nearby, wouldn’t it be natural to comment to God about the beauty and fragrance of a rose, and the beautiful sounds of the mockingbird? Or the lovely, lonely sound of the mourning dove? Couldn’t we tell Him how beautiful it was of Him to create things that way? Or would we simply say, “We thank thee, Lord, for the beauties of nature that surround us?” We do have such well-worn phrases to cover these things. It seems to me that if God really were our Friend, we would take time to talk about these everyday things, and to be as specific about them as we would be with other members of the family. We might even venture to ask Him about the thorns on a rose. “Did you put them there? If so, why?”

Imagine the Father appearing visibly at the front of your church, or even better, in a cozy fellowship room. A group would gather around Him there, just as the crowds did around Jesus. Suppose we could talk there freely with God the Father for a whole hour. Would it be appropriate at the end for someone among us to rise and say, “This has been such a special occasion, don’t you think we ought to close this meeting with a word of prayer?” Or would it be correct to understand that, having just been in conversation with our God as with a friend, we have been praying the whole hour long?

Or could such a conversation only be possible with Jesus the Son? Is it even thinkable that we could converse with the Father, the awesome One, as with a friend? The disciples wondered about this. They were comfortable with Jesus, and appreciated how He wanted them to regard themselves as His friends. He said this more than once. One of those places is John 15:15, RSV: “I have called you friends. . . .” Their friendship with Jesus prompted Phillip to say, “Could the Father be like you?” John 14:8. You may remember Jesus’ answer: “If you really knew me, you would know my Father as well. . . . Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14:7, 9, NIV).

Marvelous as that is, I think much of our theology and worship fails to recognize that magnificent truth, to know the Son is to know the Father. That is why Jesus went on to say those stunning words, hardly ever incorporated into Christian theology: “There is no need for me to pray to the Father for you, for the Father loves you Himself” (based on John 16:26-27). Notice Goodspeed’s translation of the same text: “I do not promise to intercede with the Father for you, for the Father loves you himself.”

How hard it has been for God to convince us that He really is our Friend. Centuries ago, when He came to speak to the people on Mount Sinai, they were so terrified (Exod 19:16) that they said to Moses, “Don’t let God speak to us, lest we die” (Exod 20:19). But Moses stood there in the midst of all the thunder and lightning and said to the people, “There is no need to be afraid” (Exod 20:20). You see, all those centuries before Christ, Moses already understood the truth that John wrote about: “There is no fear in love; perfect love drives out all fear. So then, love has not been made perfect in anyone who is afraid, because fear has to do with punishment” (1 John 4:18, GNB).

If you were ushered right now into the presence of God, would you be afraid He might hurt you? That He might hit you? Do you trust Him with His almighty power? On the day that every one of us approaches God, the way we approach Him will reveal the kind of person we are persuaded He really is. With this series of conversations in mind, then, let’s go back with renewed courage to the imaginary fellowship room where God is waiting. Whether the One there is Father, Son, or Holy Spirit should make no difference to us. For Paul said in Romans 8 that all three are on our side, all three are our Friends.

Now as we walk into the room, we know that God is the all powerful Creator of the whole vast universe. We know that the mighty angels, sinless as they are, stand overwhelmed with awe and wonder at the majesty and glory of God. Nevertheless, if we are afraid to go in, God has failed to convince us of the truth about Himself. And Jesus has also failed to convince us, not just with His words, but with what He has demonstrated to be true when He was here: That God is infinitely powerful, but equally gracious, and there is no need to be afraid. And so, overwhelmed with awe, we venture to go inside anyway.

God is seated there and we gather around Him. What should we say? Should one of us be the first to speak? Once we have started speaking, would we talk all the time? Or would we let God speak now and then? Normally, when we pray we do all the talking, don’t we? And when we’re done, we say “Amen” and go about our business, or go to sleep. That kind of prayer would be like meeting in a room with our heavenly Father, talking to Him incessantly for several minutes, and then saying, “Amen, thank you very much,” and then leaving. It wouldn’t make sense if He were there, would it? It certainly wouldn’t be the kind of conversation one has with a friend.

If the Father were to appear visibly among us, how would we address Him? What language would we use? Would we be too afraid to speak? Would we feel constrained to mention only the most lofty themes, or would we be free to talk candidly about what He already knows is in our hearts? Would it be easier to discuss such matters with the Son? Would it be more appropriate to speak or listen? How does one listen to the voice of God?

As you can see, the purpose of this chapter is to describe what prayer is all about. As with all the topics in our conversations, the way we pray depends upon the kind of person we believe our God to be. Surely no one knew better how to talk to God than the Son of God Himself, the one we call Jesus. In the Sermon on the Mount, you recall, He gave some very clear advice as to how to pray:

When you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; they love to say their prayers . . . for everyone to see them. . . . But when you pray, go into a room by yourself, shut the door, and pray to your Father who is there in the secret place. . . . In your prayers do not go babbling on like the heathen, who imagine that the more they say the more likely they are to be heard. . . . Your Father knows what your needs are before you ask him. This is how you should pray: “Our Father in heaven, thy name be hallowed; thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as in heaven. Give us today our daily bread. Forgive us the wrong we have done, as we have forgiven those who have wronged us. And do not bring us to the test, but save us from the evil one” (Matt 6:9-15, NEB).

If God already knows our needs before we ask Him, why should we take time to pray at all? That question assumes, of course, that the primary purpose of prayer is to lodge our requests with the Lord. But there are others who prefer to understand prayer as conversation with God as with a friend. It’s in the biblical record that the Son of God Himself engaged in many such conversations with His Father. We are told that “He went up into the hills by himself to pray” (Matt 14:23, RSV), often after a very busy day. “All night he continued in prayer to God” (Luke 6:12, RSV).

Have you ever prayed all night? How could Jesus pray to His Father all night long without a certain amount of repetition? Do you think Jesus babbled on like the heathen, supposing that the more He said the more likely His Father was to hear Him? That would be inconceivable, wouldn’t it? Or were His conversations with His Father so real that the night hours simply slipped away? Haven’t you had the experience of visiting with a friend of whom you are especially fond, and the hours just flew away? You see, everything depends on whether or not God is our friend. The way we pray reveals to others, and to ourselves, the kind of person we believe and understand our God to be.