Do you Pray in Secret? by Nevins

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jun 30, 1863

Do you Pray in Secret?

By Nevins

I KNOW not how it is with the reader, but I know that many persons are not in the habit of secret prayer. They have no closet, no place of retirement to which they daily resort, and where, when they have shut the door, they pray to their Father which is in secret, and in solitude seek the society of God. I am acquainted with one who for many years neglected this duty, which all religions recognize, and which even nature teaches. Sometimes he read the Bible, and no part of it oftener than the sermon on the mount. Of course he must have frequently read those words of the great Teacher, in which, taking it for granted that his hearer prays, he tells him what he should do when he prays: "But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet;" (the person is supposed to have some place called his closet, to which he is accustomed to retire for prayer;) "and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly." He read this, but he gave no heed to it. During all this period he asked nothing, though he received much. God did not neglect him, though he neglected God; and as he prayed none, so he praised none. Sometimes, indeed, he said, "Thank God!" but it was said in so much thoughtlessness, that it was set down profaneness rather than praise. It is true, at that time he would never allow that he was ungrateful; but he was, and now he sees that he was. He lived, and moved, and had his being in God, and yet was without God in the world. Many and precious were the thoughts of God toward him, but in all his thoughts God was not. Not even when he was in trouble did he ask, "Where is God my maker?" I wonder the Lord had not become weary of bestowing his bounty on such an one. It is because he is the Lord and changes not. But for that, the person of whom I speak would have been consumed long ago. There is nothing he admires more than the long-suffering of God toward him, and he hopes to spend eternity in admiring it, and exchanging thoughts with his fellow-redeemed on this and kindred subjects.

He supposes he is not the only one who has neglected secret prayer. He fears that this neglect is even now the habit of many. They are shy of God. I know not why they should be. He is doing everything to woo and win them, and to secure their confidence. So much has he done, that he asks (and I cannot answer) what he could have done more. He waits on his throne of grace to be gracious to them, but they come not near to him. He even calls to them to come to him, using too the language of most affectionate address: "Son, my son;" but they respond not, "Abba, Father." It is strange they should treat this Father so. They treat no other father so. What child does not, in the morning, salute his father? and what father does not expect the salutation of each child as they come into his presence? Oh, yes, we love our father who is on earth; and we remember with gratitude the favors he does us. And does the Father of our spirits, the giver of every good gift, deserve no daily notice from us, no affectionate salutation, no grateful recognition of indebtedness to him? I am certain he expects it, for he says, "A son honoreth his father; if then I be a Father, where is mine honor?" He claims to be a Father; and O, how well he has established that claim! Truly he is a Father, and "like as a father piteth his children, so the Lord piteth" his. And to the compassion of the father, he adds the tender care and untiring mindfulness of the mother. "Can a woman," he asks, "forget her sucking child?" She may, he says, but He will not. How strange it is that men will not go to the closet to meet and to pray to such a Father!

Surely it is not for want of encouragement. If they have it not in his very nature, yet in his invitations, his promises, and his past acts of unsolicited kindness, they have all they could desire. Nor is it that they have no need of God. Never one of the prayerless will say that. They all know what would become of them but for that overlooking eye, and that supplying hand, and that supporting arm. And do they not know that God has a heart too—that he can love with all the fervor of a friend? And can they not imagine that in the interchange of affection between God and the soul of man there may, and indeed must be, ineffable delight? And who that looks but a little way forward, does not perceive an exigency when, in the utter inadequacy of earthly and human resources for comfort, he will want "the consolations of God?"

Ah, it is a sad as well as a strange thing, that so many enter no closet! seek no retirement, either in their houses or elsewhere, where they may be a little while alone with God; where they may look up and meet the light of his countenance as he looks down on them; where they may confess their sins, and receive the assurance of his pardoning love; where they may thank him for mercies past, and humbly ask for more; where they may take counsel of him; tell him of their griefs, and have their tears wiped away, and with him leave the weighty burden of their cares.

I know not whether this excites more my grief, or my wonder. I am not so much surprised that men should neglect a manifest duty, but when I think what a privilege it is, what a happiness, what an honor, to be on terms of intimacy, and in habits of intercourse with God, it amazes me that they should forego it. How will such reflect upon themselves hereafter—how execrate their folly! How will they wonder that they could have deliberately done their souls such a wrong! Then it will be too late to redress the wrong. They sought not the Lord while he might be found—they called not upon him while he was near. Yea, though he called, they refused. Now they may call, but he will not answer. If any one who is living in the neglect of secret prayer shall read this, will he not be persuaded to commence the practice, the very day he reads it, aye, that same hour, if it be possible? If it be not convenient, let him make it convenient. Let other things give way for this, rather than this for anything. Can he think his heart right in the sight of God, or his condition safe in prospect of eternity, while he neglects prayer? How dare he live without prayer? Without it can he have courage to die? At the mercy-seat of God he may decline to appear, but before his judgment-seat we must all stand. How a frequent access to the first, would prepare us for final arraignment at the other! How it would familiarize us with the presence of God! How it would serve to break the shock of the entrance into eternity!

Does any one, who is not in the habitual and daily practice of secret devotion, pretend to be a Christian? It is but pretence. He may believe the creed of the Christian, but certainly he does not pursue the practice nor possess the spirit of the Christian. Breathing is essential to living, and prayer is the Christian's vital breath. Does he walk with God who never converses with him?

Some spiritualize the direction of Christ, making the closet to mean the heart, and the duty of private devotion to be discharged in mere mental prayer. But Christ did not so trifle. His closet was not his heart; he could not have meant that ours should be. He selected the still morning, and sought out the solitary place for prayer. May we be less attentive to the circumstances of time and place? Shall we talk about entering into ourselves and there thinking prayer? Jesus, even in his most retired intercourse with his Father, used his voice. That prayer, "Let this cup pass from me," was vocal—and that petition, "God be merciful to me a sinner," was expressed in words. Shall we reserve the voice exclusively for our intercourse with men, and not with it also supplicate and bless God?

Is any one inquiring after truth? What place more appropriate for asking "What is truth," than the closet? Who so likely to be taught of God as they who

ask of God? Some men carry that question to the Bible, and press it there, as indeed they should; but they carry it not to the throne of grace, and press it there also. They read to know what truth is but do not pray to know it.

Oh, how an hour in the morning, spent with God, prepares us pleasantly and profitably to pass the other hours of the day with men; and at night, what so composing as communion with God! In resigning ourselves into the arms of sleep—that image of death, what security like that of prayer! It engages Him who never slumbers nor sleeps, to watch over us.

Has any one become remiss in secret devotion? What! tired of God! weary of communion with him! How sad the state of such a soul!—Nevins.