Too Big to Pray | AdventAI

Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · May 12, 1859

Too Big to Pray.

I tarried for a night with an old friend, who had always seemed indifferent on the subject of religion. His wife was pious, and endeavored to impress the minds of her children with proper views of God and eternity. Her little boy of two or three years, when about to retire to rest, knelt down by his mother, and reverently repeated a child's prayer. When he arose from his knees, he turned to his father, with a seeming consciousness that he had preformed a duty, and addressed him, "Father, I have said my prayers: have you said yours? or are you to big too pray?" I thought it was a question that would reach that father's heart, and it might yet be said of him, "Behold he prayeth."

I have since noticed many who were too big to pray. I knew a young man, a student of brilliant talents and fascinating manners; yet he would sneer at piety and pious men. He was considered a model by a certain class around him. In a revival meeting it was supposed that the Spirit of God had reached his heart. He professed to see his danger and resolved to reform. Then he thought of his companions who had witnessed his past life. They would say he was weak-minded and fickle. He would lose their respect. He could not come down from his high position. He could not take up the cross through good and evil report, and his serious impressions passed away, perhaps for ever. He was too big to pray.

I knew a man who had passed the middle age of life. His children had grown up around him, while he had been careless and unconcerned about their eternal welfare. A change seemed to have come over him, and he felt that duty called on him to pray in his family. But how could he assume such a task before his household, which would be astonished at such a strange event. He shrank from the effort, and finally relaxed into his former coldness and indifference. He was too big to pray.

I knew a physician who held a high rank in his profession. The urbanity of his deportment, joined with an intelligent mind, made him a pleasant companion. But he was skeptical in regard to the doctrines of the Bible. He witnessed the happy death of one who triumphed in the last trying hour, and his infidel opinions were shaken. "Almost he was persuaded to become a Christian." But the pride of his heart was not subdued. He could not humble himself at the foot of the cross. He was too big to pray.

How many thousands there are around us, who have been elevated to high places in our land, who would not dare to be seen upon their knees, supplicating the Majesty of heaven. They are too big to pray.

Now, in all such cases, there is something wrong. The heart once fairly pierced by the sword of the Spirit, there will soon be prayer. The fear of God will speedily overcome the fear of man. This is proved by all history and all experience. Where the Spirit descends in power, men in multitudes, with the royal Psalmist, will on all sides be crying out, "Come all ye that fear God, and I will tell you what he hath done for my soul."—Sel.