I confess I do not usually gravitate to books on prayer. It is almost certainly a flaw in me, but reading books on prayer comes to me with great reluctance.
The problem may have begun with my early enthusiasm for the works of E. M. Bounds, the great Methodist writer on prayer. His writing on prayer was prolific (nine books), and so filled with examples of Olympian prayer-feats, that I was inspired to wake at 4am to begin the kind of three-hour prayer sessions Bounds so often described. I tumbled out of bed, onto my knees, and began praying. I woke up at about 6am, still on my knees.
I soon realised mere aspiration and attempted imitation could not reproduce in me the prayer lives of the greats. Disillusionment set in. The spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak.
But the problem lay deeper still. John Piper helpfully said, “How easy it is to be more thrilled by radical devotion than by divine beauty. It is a subtle danger.” Subtle enough that we think we are doing both when we are in awe of the radically devoted prayer lives of past believers. But we may be doing nothing more than admiring a supposed ideal state of piety. I eventually realised that some of my initial attraction to those books on prayer may well have been a kind of unconsecrated ambition: the desire to achieve glorious heights of piety and be numbered with, well, the kind of people who ended up in E. M. Bounds’ books.
The fault, as I say, does not lie in Bounds’ books. It’s what my flesh did with the challenge to be a superior pray-er.
I did, however, find some books that worked on me differently. Both came from the British isles, and from a similar era. The Hidden Life of Prayer (1913) by David M’Intyre is warm, encouraging, and yet challenging. M’Intyre teaches that prayer is communion in secret with God, and to be sought out. He suggests the ‘equipment for prayer’ is God’s Word, a quiet place, enough time, and a reverent heart. M’Intyre highlights the importance of a devotional routine and spiritual discipline. He deals with distraction and wandering thoughts. And he describes prayer like a walk through the different chambers of the Tabernacle.
J. C. Ryle’s A Call to Prayer (1877) is similarly stirring, but more urgent and confrontational. Ryle calls on those who think they are Christians to examine themselves by their prayer lives. More given to the importance of prayer, this short treatise also has practical tips for prayer: pray regularly, pray earnestly, and pray sincerely. He encourages beginning with short, honest prayers, and growing steadily in consistency and depth.
Probably, different Christians are differently moved when it comes to devotional works on prayer. Ryle and M’Intyre have become justly celebrated for stirring us to prayer. Some of us have found that they do so without stirring the inner legalist in us all.