Some amazing stories are told of people whose lives are changed by prayer.
I read the other day of a child born with a rare heart condition. She was not expected to live, so the family started to pray for her; they prayed for a miracle. And when they took her back for further tests, the doctor said, ‘I am an expert on this rare heart condition, and I don’t know what else to say. I can’t find anything wrong with her. She is healed.’

Naturally, the family put it down to the power of prayer. And like the psalmist, their response was ‘O Lord my God I cried to you for help: and you have restored my health.’
But we know it doesn’t always go this way. There are times when it seems our prayers go unanswered, at least in the way we would’ve liked, and we are left wondering ‘what is the point?’ ‘Is there a God?’ And if there is, ‘why does God not answer my prayers?’
For example, when I was in my early twenties, a friend of mine was diagnosed with cancer. We’d worked together for a Christian youth organization. He was a wonderful guy; faithful, generous and kind. And this news came as a shock to all who knew him.
After his diagnosis, I remember going to his parent’s house, on several occasions, and joining family and members of his church, to pray for him. We prayed God would heal him, and there were days when it looked like our prayers were making a difference. But then the tumor got worse. And we gathered not only to pray but to say good-bye.
There are also the devastating images we have seen this week on the news. One that stands out for me is a lone brick wall of a church. A cross is visible amongst the ashes, a memorial to those incinerated by the fires which have ravaged parts of Victoria. And I can’t help but think of the many who cried out to God to save them, but to no avail.
Of course, in this case, there are stories of miracles, of lives saved from the flames. No doubt some will have given thanks to God for their good fortunes, as the psalmist does for his, but what of the others, I ask, and what of my friend who died all too young.
Why did God do nothing? Why does God answer some prayers but not others?
You would expect us to find an answer in the Bible. But today’s gospel doesn’t seem to help. There, we read of a leper, a person with a skin-disease that has excluded him from participation in his community. He comes to Jesus, for he must have heard what he is able to do, and begs him to heal him. ‘If only you will,’ he pleads, ‘you can cleanse me.’
And Jesus says ‘I will.’ Moved by a sense of compassion, of pity, he stretches out his hand, and touches the man. Jesus makes himself unclean to restore another to life. And the leprosy leaves the man, and he goes and spreads his story of healing far and wide.
Now hearing a story like this makes me want to rejoice. Just as I want to rejoice with all who have felt God’s healing in their lives; but what about all the others? What about those who have begged Jesus to heal them, who have prayed for a miracle, asking God to bring wholeness to their lives, and felt nothing? Does prayer make a difference?
You may guess I struggle with prayer; at least the sort of prayer which treats God as a kind of divine fix-it man. But this doesn’t mean prayer is not important to me. Prayer is the core of my life; it is what I do. Someone has described it being like breathing, and I agree. If I don’t breathe deeply enough of the life of God, then I am in serious trouble.
So I pray for you. I pray for the life we share together. I pray for our witness in this community and beyond. I pray for myself. But in my prayers I do not so much pray for God to act in our world; I pray instead that you, that we, may be drawn ever closer to the heart of God; that our lives may be in tune with the deepest source of our being.
Philip Yancey, a popular Christian writer and speaker, has some insightful comments to make about prayer. In his book ‘Prayer, Does it make any difference?’ he writes of his own experience of prayer. He tells of occasions when his prayers have gone unanswered, and of the letters he’s received over the years from those who have experienced the same.
‘My own emphasis in prayer’ he writes, ‘has moved from petition to companionship, and I no longer agonise over the issue of unanswered prayer as I once did. Yet I know that for many people unanswered prayer forms a barrier that blocks any desire to keep company with God. What kind of companion who has the power to save a life or heal a disease would ‘sit on his hands’ despite urgent pleas for help?’
So, here is someone who takes the Christian life seriously, a person passionate about prayer, acknowledging how unanswered prayer can be a barrier to faith, but for whom prayer is much more than petition, asking God for what we want; it is about keeping company with God, sharing our lives in a relationship of mutuality and trust.
And this, I suggest, is what we see when we look closely at Jesus’ life. He is centred in prayer; and from this central place, this place of oneness with God, Jesus acts. We see this in his identification with the leper, but perhaps we see it most clearly in the way he responds to the cross. Before his death Jesus prays, in Gethsemane, ‘My Father, if it is possible may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.’
Rob Bell, commenting on this text, explains how there are two parts to Jesus’ prayer. First, he says Jesus is being brutally honest with God. He is saying, ‘Is there some way out of this? I don’t really want to go through with it.’ But then, Jesus continues, he says, ‘Well, I guess this is going to happen. Nothing I can do to stop it. So, I’m up for whatever you have in mind.’
In other words, for Jesus, prayer is being open to what God is doing here and now.
‘Prayer is tapping in to the same energy that formed the universe…’ Bell goes on to say. ‘Praying connects us to the people and things we’re praying for. Prayer enlarges our perspective. Praying gives us a bigger heart. Praying makes us feel things. Praying changes things but prayer changes us.’
Now I know what I’ve said today won’t have answered all your questions. In fact, it probably raises more questions than gives answers. And I have to say, though I believe in prayer, I don’t know why some of our prayers are answered and others are not.
But what I do know is I will keep on praying for those I love; for those whose lives are filled with hardship and suffering. I will keep on praying for an end to the violence we see in our communities, and for those whose lives are turned upside down by natural disasters. And I will do this because I believe prayer does make a difference.
So let us pray, and may our prayer change us.
A sermon preached in St Alban’s Anglican Church, Eastbourne, on 15 February 2009, by te Ven. Damon Plimmer.