The Prayer of James and John

“And James and John come unto Him, saying, Master, we would that Thou shouldest do for us whatsoever we shall desire.” — Mark x. 35.

I THINK there is a great difference between the physical and the mental world. In the physical world we ascend from small demands to high; in the mental we descend from high demands to small. A child begins with simple food and becomes gradually capable of assimilating richer diet. But a beginner in the spiritual life puts out his hand to touch the roof of the universe. His eye rests primarily on the top of the mountain, and it is for that he first aims. In no department is this so conspicuous as in the sphere of prayer. We should expect the history of prayer to be a history of ever-increasing demands — beginning with trifling requests and ending with great requirements. It is the reverse; it begins with great requirements and it ends with requests which the world would call trifling. We have here before us one of the earliest prayers of Christianity. Two fishermen enter into

235 the presence of Christ to ask a personal boon. We expect that this first flight of prayer will be something modest — the petition for success in their trade, or for comfort in their home, or for support in their duties. To our astonishment, it is the boldest request ever preferred by the lips of mortal man: “We would that Thou shouldest do for us whatsoever we shall desire.” I suppose there had come to their ears Herod’s promise to Herodias that he would grant her whatever she should ask. They probably said, “If a petty earthly ruler could make such an offer to a member of his family, is it too much to hope that the Ruler of the kingdom of Heaven will do it for His faithful followers?” The word that raises a smile is the word “hope.” It never occurred to these men that Herod had not offered a boon at all — that the promise had proved a disaster. For the feature of the prayer is not its presumption; it is its hurtfulness. Where lies the sting of saying, “Give me whatever I desire”? It lies in the prayer’s selfishness. It is impossible that my desire should not at some point cross the desire of my brother. My crops may be crying for rain, and his for sunshine. My heart may be seeking in marriage a human object which he is also seeking. The door by which I would find promotion may be the door at which 236

he himself is knocking. Shall I make my prayer a weapon to strike him down?

Forbid it, Lord; deny the pernicious request! Let my first prayer be, “Teach me to pray!” I am more afraid of my desires than of anything else in the world. My deepest fear in prayer, but for Thy love, would be not the refusal, but the granting of it. If I did not know that Thou art love, I should tremble before the gates of my own supplication. I should feel as I do when conflicting armies are on the verge of battle and I expect to hear of slaughter. Shall my petition be the destruction of my neighbour’s hope? Shall the flowering of my garden be the withering of his? Shall the bridge by which I cross the river be the mutilated heart of my brother man? Thou, whose name is Love, let it not be! Thou hast made the house of prayer for mutual helpfulness; let me not make it a den of thieves — a place for over-reaching my comrade! Rather let me invert the prayer of these fishermen of Galilee; let me say, “Do unto me whatsoever Thou shalt desire!” Let me cast my hopes, not upon my love for myself, but upon Thy love for me! Let me put my interests into Thy hands! It is the only confidence I can have that my prayer will be a holy and not a harmful thing. I should like to get my own desires in so

237 far as tney coincide with the glory of Thy kingdom — no less, no more. I would not be a favoured one. I would not get the daily bread that is denied to my playmate; it would turn to ashes on my lips. Give Thy crown in common! Light Thy sun on every stream! Impart Thy warmth to a united world! Then only shall I ask the fulfilment of my desire.

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