Escape from Christendom

Chapter four

 

THE WILDERNESS OF PRAYER

 

  Now the sea of sand comes to an abrupt end in the foothills of a fiery mountain range. There is no vegetation, only walls of dry, hard, burning rock. Bones cluttering the sand at the base of the rocky barrier are mute testimony to the dangers of this desolate land. The traveler fixes his gaze on the cross­-shaped star as he walks, recites to himself:

 

"Enter by the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is easy, that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard, that leads to life, and those who find it are few."

 

Hearing voices in the distance, the traveler follows the path at the foot of the mountain toward them. There the path abruptly turns into a gash in the mountain. Entering the opening, he listens as a voice echoes and resounds with such intensity that no words can be distinguished. Moving deep into this rocky pass, the traveler nears a huge wrought iron arch under which a man is addressing an assembly of men and women.

 

"This is the way, believe me," pleads the man, his words now distinct. "This narrow gate to my left is so rusty it will hardly swing. Who in his right mind would want to follow that steep path, when this well‑paved, well‑traveled way is open and ready? Come through this gate and you will be out of the wilderness before the day is over. Good food and a clean bed await you at the other end. There are prayer meetings arranged at the rest stops every hour along the way."

 

Without hesitation the traveler passes under the wrought iron arch and proceeds down the road. Others join him. The route on which he now walks is smooth and pleasant in contrast to the blue sand he has just plodded through. A sign repeats the information that there are rest stops every hour, consisting of a prayer meeting and a light lunch.

 

At the first such stop he talks with a pleasant hostess: "I've come a long way. Please tell me where this path is taking us."

 

She smiles and replies, "You will be beautifully housed and well taken care of. Your journey will be over by nightfall."

 

The traveler walks on, increasingly perplexed. Just as darkness begins to fall after a scenic journey through the rocks and trees, he finds himself on the brow of a hill looking down on a city.

 

"Welcome!" exclaims a man standing beneath a wrought iron arch identical to the arch through which he had passed earlier.

 

"Thank you," replies the traveler. "But where am I?"

 

"Why, this is Christian City!"

 

Without another word the traveler turns and runs back the way he came. With Christian City out of sight, he slows to a walk but doesn't stop until he has reached the other arch, the end of this false path. He cries out, "I have only one desire: to find that narrow gate and enter it before I take a single rest. How could I have been so blind? Of course the wide gate would lead to Christian City, the place where one can have his ease, never have to deny himself, take risks, suffer any pain or lose any sleep," he adds bitterly.

 

Finally the traveler discovers the old rusty gate. So narrow he can barely squeeze through, the gate has been almost obliterated by weeds and vines.

 

Daybreak finds him on a narrow path winding up through scarlet rocks. There is a hum in the air as of a wind through trees, but neither wind nor trees are found here. The hum grows louder and finally can be distinguished as a chant of many voices. Now the traveler sees the people on the path ahead. He has become part of a procession of people all moving toward the City of God. As they walk they are each talking earnestly to someone unseen. Some of them are crying. Some seem exuberant. Some are mentioning people's names and asking good things for them. Some ask their neighbors ahead or behind for help, but their main concern is with their unseen listener.

 

The traveler's mysterious companion now returns and addresses him. "Here in the Wilderness of Prayer the contrast with Christian City is extreme, you know. There, they do have prayer meetings and people pray before they go to bed. When life becomes difficult, their prayers become intense, until the crisis passes. But in the Wilderness of Prayer, prayer becomes one's way of life ‑--- the source of one's whole existence. The time has come for you to be lost in a life of prayer. Meditate on these passages in the Gospel of Luke," she adds, handing him a sheet of paper on which is written:

 

Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form, as a dove, and a voice came from heaven, "Thou art my beloved Son; with thee I am well pleased" (Luke 3:21‑22).

But so much the more the report went abroad concerning him; and great multitudes gathered to hear and to be healed of their infirmities. But he withdrew to the wilderness and prayed (Luke 5:15‑16).

 

In those days he went out into the hills to pray; and all night he continued in prayer to God. And when it was day, he called his disciples, and chose from them twelve, whom he named apostles (Luke 6:12‑13).

 

Now about eight days after these sayings he took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And as he was praying, the appearance of his countenance was altered, and his raiment became dazzling white (Luke 9:28‑29).

 

  He was praying in a certain place, and when he ceased, one of his disciples said to him, "Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples" (Luke 11:1).

 

And he came out, and went, as was his custom, to the Mount of Olives; and the disciples followed him. And when he came to the place he said to them, "Pray that you may not enter into temptation." And he withdrew from them about a stone's throw, and knelt down and prayed  (Luke 22:39‑41).

 

And when they came to the place which is called The Skull, there they crucified him, and the criminals, one on the right and one on the left. And Jesus said, "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do…"

(Luke 23:33‑34).

 

"A prayer life is something we engage in alone, yet it brings us into fellowship with God and man as nothing else will," his companion tells him when he has finished reading. "Prayer is going to God, to the Father's door, and asking for bread so that you can give it to your needy brother. When you knock and keep knocking it always opens. Always. Out of that communion with God comes something you share with others. And as you share what God gives you, you have a communion with them. A person will have this communion even if he's shy or clumsy. For this life of prayer delivers one from the fear of other people's opinions and the fear of one's own blunders."

 

"But does it take these eerie mountains, these cliffs, this continuous danger to learn to pray?" asks the traveler.

 

"Well, in the past you cried to God in your occasional emergencies. Here you are learning to see your life as a continuous crisis, driving you to call on God day and night. 'Shall not God vindicate his elect who cry to him day and night?' The clearer our vision of what happens in the world ‑---how close to the edge of chaos the nations are, the more we understand that the only way to know life is to come close to God the Father in prayer, to cry to Him day and night. We pray without ceasing because the crisis in earthly life is never over."

 

"But why does it all have to be so hard? It looks to me as though the climb through these mountains is the toughest part of the journey yet."

 

"Because prayer is our main work. It takes thought, concentration, an active will and the best of one's strength to pray for the hallowing of God's name, the coming of God's kingdom, to pray for laborers in the harvest, or to pray for specific people and their needs. You have barely begun to scratch the surface of the awesome things that wait to be done in answer to your prayers, if you will keep going."

 

"That's it, though! To keep going. I'm getting so tired."

 

"This is because your prayers are becoming engaged in the Real Battle. Prayer is the ground where we overcome evil with good. In these mountains you will learn to pray for your enemies. The life of overcoming evil with good starts with asking that good will come to those who have done evil to us."

 

The narrow path leads to a lookout where the traveler and his companion share a meal. Afterwards they walk to the edge of the lookout where she points to the path winding down through mountains which diminish in size until somewhere near the horizon they appear to reach their end.

 

  "You see, there begins the Harvest," the traveler's companion says, pointing to a view beyond them. "Remember these words which Jesus said: 

 

'Do you not say, There are yet four months, then comes the harvest? I tell you, lift up your eyes, and see how the fields are already white for harvest. He who reaps receives wages, and gathers fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may rejoice  together. For here the saying holds true,  "One sows and another reaps." I sent you to reap that for which you did not labor; others have labored, and you have entered into their labor."'

 

  The traveler looks into the distance while his companion explains further: "In Christian City, remember, there is a fine, wide street called Missionary Boulevard, lined with spacious well‑kept buildings and adorned with fountains and lawns and lovely shrubs. Those buildings house every missionary

enterprise known in the Christian world. There are headquarters for literature outreach, editorial offices for elaborate missionary magazines, and smaller facilities that provide a prayer‑letter service for lesser-known laborers. There are

studios that produce world literature telethons and video tapes for missionary appeals. There are institutions that offer refresher courses for missionaries on furlough, and a computerized itinerary service for missionaries who need to broaden their financial base. There are recruiting centers, rest facilities for retired missionaries and even a budding record company. But lately Missionary Boulevard has been thrown into a panic by some disturbing news. Word has been received that large numbers of missionaries have suddenly committed an unpardonable breach of missionary etiquette: instead of taking as their mission field the approved territory of the known world, missionaries have plunged into the desert toward the City of God."

 

"But what kind of mission field is this desert?" the traveler asks. "Whose soul are you going to save in the Wilderness of Forgiveness except your own? And when you get to the Wilderness of Worship, everyone there is already alive with God's glory. In the Wilderness of Prayer there is wonderful communion with other travelers, and I'm learning to intercede. But there aren't any 'lost souls’…”