God Speaks to God
The Grace of Common Prayer, #3
This is the third in a four part series on prayer. You can find the other posts at the following links: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV
INTRODUCTION
In the two previous essays in this series, I traced both our contemporary struggles with prayer and their deeper roots in our broken communion with God. We saw how expressive individualism compounds these struggles, and we explored the biblical narrative of communication breakdown. But this is not where the story ends.
The entire history of salvation can be understood as God's persistent initiative to restore both communion and communication with His people. This restoration reaches its climax in the person of Jesus Christ - who is both fully God and fully human, the perfect bridge between God and man and between divine and human speech.
THE CONTEXT
Why do we need the mediation of Jesus? Because “we all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). As Paul explains in Ephesians 2, our sin means that we are no longer able to relate to God as Father:
And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience— among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind (Ephesians 2:1–3).
Remember those student testimonies I listed in the first essay? Their feelings of inadequacy, their questions about whether God listens, their uncertainty about prayer's effectiveness - these are all symptoms of our alienation from God as Father mentioned by Paul in Ephesians 2. The wonderful news is that, in Jesus Christ, these struggles can be redeemed and made a pathway to restored communion.
Through sin, humanity became alienated from God - "dead in trespasses and sins" as Paul puts it in Ephesians 2. We can do nothing to bridge this infinite chasm between Creator and creature. Yet in the incarnation of Jesus Christ, God does what is beyond our capacity: He redeems us by taking our nature upon himself without ceasing to be God.
TRUE GOD AND TRUE MAN
This is the distinctively Christian understanding of God - that in Jesus Christ, the maker of heaven and earth became one of us. The miracle is that he remained fully God without changing or diminishing the human nature of the person he became. This is crucial for understanding how prayer becomes possible again. In Jesus, we don't have a mere messenger from God or even a specially blessed human being. We have one person who is simultaneously and completely both God and human.
The Council of Chalcedon in 451 AD defined this mystery with great care: in Jesus of Nazareth, divine and human natures come together “without confusion, without change, without division, without separation, the distinction of natures being in no way annulled by the union.” Importantly, Jesus doesn't blur the line between divine and human natures - He unites them perfectly while maintaining their distinction.
The Chalcedonian definition isn't an abstraction - it tells us something fundamental about humankind. In Jesus, we see not just the union of divine and human natures, but what it means to be truly human. Unlike expressive individualism, which sees human nature as a blank slate for self-definition, the incarnation shows us that true human identity is found in perfect responsive relationship with God. Jesus shows us what human nature was always meant to be - neither autonomous from God (as modern individualism suggests) nor absorbed into God (as ancient paganism feared), but distinctly human precisely in perfect communion with the divine.
This reveals something crucial about God's nature with important implications for how we understand prayer. When God draws near to us in Christ, He doesn't overwhelm or diminish our humanity - He fulfills it. Unlike the gods of ancient mythology who destroyed humans by their presence, when the true God comes close in Christ, He makes us more truly ourselves.
In Letters to Malcolm, (Letter 13), C.S. Lewis explores the implications of Chalcedonian christology for prayer, through a reflection on the following poem:
They tell me, Lord that when I seem To be in speech with you, Since but one voice is heard, it’s all a dream, One talker aping two. Sometimes it is, yet not as they Conceive it. Rather, I Seek in myself the things I hoped to say, But lo!, my wells are dry. Then, seeing me empty, you forsake The listener’s role and through My dumb lips breathe and into utterance wake The thoughts I never knew. And thus you neither need reply Nor can; thus, while we seem Two talkers, thou are One forever, and I No dreamer, but thy dream.
He then goes on to explain the poem, saying that…
Dream makes it too like Pantheism and was perhaps dragged in for the rhyme. But is he not right in thinking that prayer in its most perfect state is a soliloquy? If the Holy Spirit speaks in the man, then in prayer God speaks to God. But the human petitioner does not therefore become a “dream”. As you said the other day, God and man cannot exclude one another, as man excludes man, at the point of junction, so to call it, between Creator and creature; the point where the mystery of creation—timeless for God, and incessant in time for us—is actually taking place. “God did (or said) it” and “I did (or said) it” can both be true.
A little further down in the same letter, he continues:
Creation seems to be delegation through and through. He will do nothing simply of Himself which can be done by creatures. I suppose this is because He is a giver. And He has nothing to give but Himself. And to give Himself is to do His deeds—in a sense, and on varying levels to be Himself through the things He has made.
St. Augustine captured this same paradox when he said that God is simultaneously "more inward to me than my most inward part and higher than the highest element within me” (Confessions 3.6.11). God is entirely present with us but utterly transcendent as well. This is the God from whom, to whom, and through whom we pray - not a distant deity we must strain to reach, nor a force that threatens to overwhelm us, but the One who in Jesus Christ has bridged the gap between divine and human speech while preserving the integrity of both.
In Jesus Christ, then, we find not just the restoration of human communication with God but its perfection. He is, as the book of Hebrews tells us, our great High Priest who both speaks God's Word to us and offers our words back to God. This is why all Christian prayer is fundamentally prayer through Christ - He is the living bridge across the communication gap that sin created, the one mediator between God and man (1 Tim. 2:5).
BECOMING SONS OF GOD
Yet, even with this perfect bridge established in Christ, God still wants to be our Father, and the entire Old Testament tells the story of his effort to restore both communion and communication between Himself and His People.
He gathers a people to Himself beginning with Abraham (cf. Genesis 12:1-3, 15:1-6, 17:1-8)
He gives the law to Moses to restore communication and obedience (cf. Exodus 19:3-6, 20:1-21; Deuteronomy 5:1-22)
He comes to dwell with His people in the Tabernacle, then in the Temple (cf. Exodus 25:8-9, 40:34-38; 1 Kings 8:10-13; 2 Chronicles 7:1-3)
With each of these events God is preparing his people to receive the Word of God incarnate. The sacrificial system, the law, the prophets - these are all God's preliminary works to restore the broken lines of communication. Like Adam and Eve, Israel fails to obey the law and to honor His presence in their midst. But despite themselves, the patriarchs, priests, kings, and prophets are preparing the way for God's true and only Son - Jesus Christ. They are like shadows of the one "who was and is and is to come (Rev. 1:8)"
Think of a great cathedral's stained-glass windows. They capture and transmit the light, creating beautiful images that tell sacred stories. Yet they are not the light itself - they reflect and reveal it. The entire Old Testament is filled with such windows, each one catching and displaying different aspects of Christ's light, the true illumination that was to come.
Like all analogies, this one is helpful but cannot convey the fullness of the relationship between Old Testament types and Jesus, the antetype. Old Testament prophets, priests, and kings were truly God’s people, and the Old Testament is truly God’s Word – yet the fullness and perfection of everything that came before Jesus was only revealed fully and finally in Him.
JESUS: THE BELOVED SON
When Jesus steps into the Jordan River for baptism, a scene unfolds that perfectly captures what restored communion with God looks like. Luke tells us that "when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heavens were opened, and the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form, like a dove; and a voice came from heaven, 'You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased'" (Luke 3:21-22).
Notice all that is happening here. Jesus is praying - already in communication with the Father. The Spirit descends like a dove - making visible the perfect communion between Father and Son. Then comes the Father’s voice from heaven – communicating delight in his beloved Son. In this remarkable event, we see the Trinity's perfect communion and communication displayed.
But Jesus doesn't just show us this perfect communion - He lives it out through a life of constant prayer. Even in His darkest hour in Gethsemane, when the weight of His coming sacrifice presses down, Jesus maintains this communion: "Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done" (Luke 22:42). Here is perfect trust meeting perfect obedience. People often ask, why, if Jesus is God, does he pray to God? This question betrays a misunderstanding of both the nature of prayer and the nature of God. Prayer is communication with God, and in the Trinity, we see prayer as it should be - not a duty imposed from without but the ongoing communication of a Son towards his Father. Praying to the Father is entirely fitting for the Son.
Jesus’ perfect prayer life leads to the ultimate act of sonship - his sacrificial death that opens the way for our own adoption as God's children. As Paul tells us, "God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, he condemned sin in the flesh" (Romans 8:3). Through His death and resurrection, Jesus doesn't just show us what perfect communion with God looks like - He makes it possible for us.
ADOPTED INTO CHRIST'S SONSHIP
Paul's letter to the Galatians reveals a profound theological truth about our adoption in Christ: "Because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, 'Abba! Father!'" (Galatians 4:6). This text illuminates the essential connection between adoption and prayer. Through Christ's redemptive work, we receive not merely a legal status but participation in his own filial relationship with the Father.
This adoption carries significant implications for understanding Christian prayer. First, it establishes that authentic prayer flows from our new identity as adopted children of God. Second, it demonstrates that Christian prayer is fundamentally participatory - we pray not as autonomous individuals but as those incorporated into Christ's own sonship. Third, it reveals that prayer is enabled by the Spirit, who facilitates our participation in Christ's communion with the Father.
This theological framework stands in marked contrast to contemporary notions of authenticity and identity. Where expressive individualism locates authenticity in autonomous self-expression, Christian adoption teaches that true identity is received as gift through incorporation into Christ. The Spirit's cry of "Abba, Father" represents not individual self-expression but participation in the Son's eternal communion with the Father.
FAITH AS THE MODE OF ADOPTION
Faith plays a crucial role in our adoption and subsequent prayer life, but its nature is often misunderstood as either a subjective feeling or a spiritual power we must generate. On the contrary, faith is the God-given means by which we participate in Christ's sonship. As Paul writes to the Galatians, "in Christ Jesus you are all sons of God, through faith" (Gal 3:26). Faith is thus not primarily about our subjective experience but about the objective reality of our incorporation into Christ.
The Greek word pistis (faith) encompasses three essential dimensions: knowledge, trust, and obedience. First, faith has an intellectual dimension - we must know its object. This cognitive aspect involves understanding who God is and what He has promised. It's not blind faith but informed trust based on God's revealed character in Scripture and, ultimately, in Christ. Second, faith involves trust - an affective response to what is known. This goes beyond mere intellectual assent to include a deep confidence in God's faithfulness, wisdom, and love. It's the kind of trust that enabled Abraham to leave his homeland or David to face Goliath. Third, faith includes obedience - a volitional commitment to act on what is known and trusted. This aspect of faith moves us beyond both understanding and feeling into actual response - the kind of faith that, as James tells us, is demonstrated in a faithful life (James 2:18).
As Goldsworthy explains:
Biblical faith can be illustrated by considering the faith we would need when about to drive a vehicle across a rickety-looking bridge. We would not ask, 'Have I got enough faith?' Rather the appropriate question is, 'Can this bridge take the load?' Once we can answer in the affirmative, the question about faith vanishes. Faith is just there because of what we perceive about its object. When faith is lacking the antidote is not introspective self-examination but contemplation of the object of our faith: Jesus the Lord, our sufficient Saviour (Graeme Goldworthy, Prayer and the Knowledge of God, Chapter 5).
This analogy illuminates several crucial points about faith in prayer. First, faith is not a power we conjure from within or a means of manipulating God. Rather, it is simultaneously a gift of God generated by the Holy Spirit and a genuine human activity. Second, faith's strength or weakness relates directly to its object. As Jesus taught, even faith "as small as a mustard seed" (Matt 17:20) can accomplish what seems impossible because what matters is not the quantity of faith but its object.
This understanding transforms how we approach prayer. Rather than attempting to generate enough faith to make our prayers "work," we are called to focus on the trustworthiness of the One to whom we pray. Faith becomes our participation in Christ's own trust in and obedience to the Father, made possible by the Spirit who links us to Christ's sonship. Thus, authentic Christian prayer flows not from our own spiritual achievements but from our Spirit-enabled participation in Christ's perfect faith.
This is why Paul can write so encouragingly about our weakness in prayer: "The Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words" (Romans 8:26). Like a master translator, the Spirit takes even our most fumbling prayers and expresses them perfectly to the Father.
ETERNAL COMMUNICAITON AMONG THREE PERSONS
The Spirit's role in prayer points to an even more profound truth: authentic Christian prayer involves the entire Trinity. While we often think of prayer as a simple dialogue between ourselves and God the Father, the reality is far richer. C.S. Lewis captures this trinitarian dimension of prayer beautifully in a passage from Mere Christianity:
You may ask, "if we cannot imagine a three-personal Being, what is the good of talking about Him?" Well, there isn't any good talking about Him. The thing that matters is being actually drawn into that three-personal life, and that may begin any time – tonight, if you like.
What I mean is this. An ordinary simple Christian kneels down to say his prayers. He is trying to get into touch with God. But if a Christian, he knows that what is prompting him to pray is also God: God, so to speak, inside him. But he also knows that all his real knowledge of God comes through Christ, the Man who was God – that Christ is standing beside him, helping him to pray, praying for him. You see what is happening. God is the thing to which he is praying – the goal he is trying to reach. God is also the thing inside him which is pushing him on – the motive power. God is also the road or bridge along which he is being pushed to that goal. So that the whole three-fold life of the three personal being is actually going on in that ordinary little bedroom where an ordinary Christian is saying his prayers.
Lewis's insight illuminates the deeply trinitarian nature of Christian prayer. When we pray, we participate in an eternal dialogue that precedes and transcends our individual petitions. This understanding has several implications for how we approach prayer.
THE DIVINE INITIATIVE IN PRAYER
First, being drawn into the Trinity's life means prayer isn't primarily about us trying to influence God. Prayer begins with God's eternal speaking -- we're joining a conversation that's been happening since before time began. When we pray, we're not initiating contact with God; we're responding to His prior Word.
This leads us to a crucial theological question: How precisely does prayer "work"? Many Christians imagine prayer operating as a form of divine persuasion: we pray, God considers our request, and then He decides whether to grant it. However, this model fundamentally misunderstands both the nature of God and the purpose of prayer.
THE TRUE EFFICACY OF PRAYER
C.S. Lewis explains in an essay titled, "The Efficacy of Prayer," that our conventional understanding of prayer's effectiveness often misses the mark. "The very question 'Does prayer work?' puts us in the wrong frame of mind from the outset," he writes. "Prayer is either a sheer illusion or a personal contact between embryonic, incomplete persons (ourselves) and the utterly concrete Person."
Lewis helps us understand that prayer isn't primarily about getting results but about abiding in the one who works all things for good (See Romans 8:28). He writes:
"Prayer in the sense of petition, asking for things, is a small part of it; confession and penitence are its threshold, adoration its sanctuary, the presence and vision and enjoyment of God its bread and wine. In it God shows Himself to us. That He answers prayers is a corollary— not necessarily the most important one from that revelation. What He does is learned from what He is."
What’s more…
"They [our prayers] have not advised or changed God's mind—that is, His over-all purpose. But that purpose will be realized in different ways according to the actions, including the prayers, of His creatures."
Here, Lewis reminds us that God works through created means - including our prayers - not because He needs our input but because He chooses to involve us in His purposes. "He allows soils and weather and animals and the muscles, minds, and wills of men to co-operate in the execution of His will. ‘God,’ said Pascal, ‘instituted prayer in order to lend to His creatures the dignity of causality.’”
Lewis notes that we often approach petition as if it were magic or a machine - something that functions automatically. But he points out that even in human relationships, establishing clear causal connections between requests and their fulfillment is not straightforward: "Your neighbor may be a humane person who would not have let your cat starve even if you had forgotten to make any arrangement... Your employer is never so likely to grant your request for a raise as when he is aware that you could get better money from a rival firm."
Just as in human relationships, our assurance about prayer's effectiveness comes not through scientific proof but through knowing the one to whom we pray. As Lewis puts it, "Those who best know a man best know whether, when he did what they asked, he did it because they asked... I think those who best know God will best know whether He sent me to the barber's shop because the barber prayed."
PRACTICAL IMPLICATIONS
What does all of this mean for our own practices of prayer? Let's explore three practical implications:
Prayer is participation in an eternal conversation, not a performance we must perfect. As Lewis explains in “The Efficacy of Prayer,” "Our act, when we pray, must not, any more than all our other acts, be separated from the continuous act of God Himself, in which alone all finite causes operate." Thus, we should be unburdened and look to God and God’s Word in order to get started in prayer. I’ll say more about this in the next post.
We don't need to be "perfect" at prayer. When we stumble over words or our minds wander, we're still participating in God's work. Lewis notes that "the refused prayer of Christ in Gethsemane is answer enough" to any notion that prayer depends on our perfection.
Growing in prayer is part of our sanctification. Lewis observes that prayer often becomes more challenging as we mature spiritually: "The refusals, too, are not only more frequent; they become more unmistakable, more emphatic."
SUMMARY AND INVITATION
We can list some of the threads covered in this post as follows:
Prayer begins with God, not us - He has been speaking from all eternity
Our prayers are made possible by Christ's work - He is the bridge across the communication gap
The Holy Spirit helps us pray - we're never left alone to figure it out
Faith focuses on God's promises, character, and will, not our ability to pray well
Prayer is about participation in God's purposes, not changing His mind
Again, prayer is not a burden we must bear but a gift we learn to accept, embrace, and exercise. That is because, what we do when we pray is to 'join in', and what we join in exists, in its eternal fullness, whether we pray or not.
Through His perfect sonship, His sacrificial death, and the gift of His Spirit, we're enabled by grace through faith to participate in the eternal Word: the eternal dialogue of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. In the next essay, I’ll focus on the grace of common prayer, exploring the ways that our Book of Common Prayer enables us to “join in” and abide in the Word that “was in the beginning, was with God, and was God” (John 1:1) and “became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14).