Lost in Place

Even before there is a word on my tongue, Behold, Lord, You know it all.  Psalm 139:4  NASB

You know it all – God knows everything, right?  Theologically, the idea is called omniscience.  This verse in Psalms supports the doctrine even if the actual Hebrew is only about words.  It’s clear that the Psalmist means God knows before we even speak the words.  Of course, that’s the kind of God we really want—and need.  How tragic for those who believe they have to explain their circumstances and wishes to a God who doesn’t fully understand.  No, indeed.  We want God to know it all.

But . . . if that’s true, then what is the purpose of prayer.  Why pray?  God already knows.  Do we suppose we need to remind Him?  I call this the omniscience excuse, that is, God knows everything so why bother telling Him what He already knows.  Prayer is useless when everything is known in advance.  Then I’m reminded that parents love to hear their children talk even when they know what they will say.  Even when they babble.  Maybe prayer isn’t about communicating information.  Maybe it’s just about communicating.  I conclude that the omniscience excuse isn’t any excuse at all.  It’s just a diversion.

There is another excuse for not praying; a much more potent one.  Shame!  You see, most of the time that I feel as if I can’t pray or I don’t want to pray is because I feel ashamed to come before God.  I’m not worthy.  My life is like sinful Swiss cheese—full of holes.  And since I don’t like to face up to the holes in my life, I avoid prayer because God knows.  I can’t hide any of these things from Him so prayer becomes an experience of exposure and it is the emotional distress that makes me want to avoid praying.  Once more I have to remind myself about parents and children.  Most of the time even human parents have a pretty good idea about what their children have done wrong.  After all, they were children too, so they know the routes of deception and the bastion of hiddenness.  Perhaps that’s why parents still want their children to talk with them.  It’s not about affixing blame.  It’s about offering relief from the stress of hiding from the truth.  If my picture of God is something akin to the moral Policeman, then I won’t want to tell Him anything that might bring judgment upon me, even though, of course, I know He already knows.  In fact, the fact that He already knows makes it worse since now He also knows that I’m trying to hide something from Him that He already knows.  You can see what a vicious circle this is, I’m sure.  I need to adjust my view of God.  I need a therapist God, not a prosecutor God.  Even then I might be resistant, but at least I can just cry.

Heschel once wrote, ““To live without prayer is to live without God, to live without a soul.”[1]   That sentence scares me.  I’m sure it’s true but for me it means I have to put aside that divine Policeman and trust in the divine Therapist.  If I want a soul, I need to find the God who feels my distress and tell Him all about it.

Topical Index: prayer, omniscience, shame, Psalm 139:4

[1] Abraham Heschel, Between God and Man: An Interpretation of Judaism (Free Press Paperbacks, 1959), p. 211.