What makes a prayer more acceptable to God, makes Him more willing to answer? Everyone who prays has faith; much rarer is faith combined with humility. Anyone can send prayers to God. But a willingness to do whatever God asks of us is essential to opening the channel of revelation.
Some people believe that God spoke in the past, but has ceased to speak directly to us today. If this were actually the case, it would make sense to offer rote prayers, since no reply is expected. Jesus specifically forbade offering mechanical, rote prayers. What an irony that His template prayer (“Our Father...”) has been turned into a mantra of mindless recitation. If there is no answer, living well and reciting prayers should be enough.
The restored gospel of Jesus Christ challenges all who believe the cannon is sealed and the heavens are closed to establish their own relationship with God in prayer. Many may argue that they tried it, and got no answer. My response is that we can do it right, and get results, or poorly, and get nothing. Atheists and frantic people disillusioned with life might offer prayers like this: “God, are you there? Prove you exist! Why did my beloved family member die? Make me skinny and beautiful! Which stock should I buy to get rich? Why won’t you answer me? If you don’t respond, I’m never speaking to you again! Fine, I hate you. Goodbye!” Who would respond affirmatively to such an emotional conniption? (I hang up on prank phone calls, too.) Fortunately for us, the Lord is much more patient and merciful.
C. S. Lewis says, "The time when there is nothing at all in your soul except a cry for help may be just that time when God can't give it: you are like the drowning man who can't be helped because he clutches and grabs. Perhaps your own reiterated cries deafen you to the voice you hoped to hear." The Bible describes the voice of God as "still" and "small." A roar of passion in us, discontent, or demanding feelings, will drown out any whisper that may come.
Prayers should be seasoned with emotions originating from a firm grasp on the truth. Who are we? We puny earthlings are at the mercy of God, easily swept away by the elements. Space is a frozen void pockmarked with small nuclear blazes and mountains of hurtling debris. A human life is, figuratively speaking, the blink of an eye, transient and fragile as a smoke ring. Whom are we contacting? Why would an ant want to attract the attention of a Big Pair of Boots? (As the proverbial Chinese curse says, “May you get everything you want, and may you come to the attention of the authorities.”) It should engender the deepest humility (and some reasonable trepidation).
Parent to Child
What business do we have being demanding or petulant in prayer? We are literal spirit children of God. He does want us to call on Him, and even learn the rules by which we can obligate Him to give us certain things for which He wants us to qualify. He asks us to “come unto” Him, and so we come as we do, pride and all, at least until He sanctifies it out of us. The parent/child relationship answers a lot of questions about why He cares for us, or why we should come to Him. (But objectively, it makes little sense.)
What good do our prayers do for God? We may offer a million babbling recitations. What does He do with them? Store them in a vault? Enjoy the praise we offer? As C. S. Lewis quips, "I don't want my dog to bark approval of my books." Are we smart enough to appreciate what God has done, or to devise adequate praise? Our limitations notwithstanding, we are supposed to offer thanks: “And in nothing doth man offend God, or against none is his wrath kindled, save those who confess not his hand in all things, and obey not his commandments” (D&C 59:21). As President Uchtdorf recently observed, God does not need us, but we need Him. We imitate what we love; our love and praise toward Him point our hearts in the right direction. But hollow words without the heart help neither God nor us.
“Why call ye me, Lord, Lord, and do not the things which I say?” (Luke 6:46). You can hear the voice of a frustrated parent here. As Eliza Doolittle tells her suitor in My Fair Lady, “Words! Words! Words! I’m so sick of words! I get words all day through, first from him, now from you, is that all you blighters can do? Don't talk of stars, burning above, if you're in love, show me!”
To have an ant crawl up to me and start bossing me around would be amusing, but not very compelling. A sincere, humble request would have more of an effect on me. This metaphor has some application to my own prayer life. Humility, not an overblown sense of personal importance, should fill our prayers.
Two Prayers
Here is one possible definition of humility: Humility is complete deference to the truth, no matter how inconvenient or unflattering. Two prayers can illustrate humility, or the lack thereof. Watch this definition play out in the two following attempts to contact God:
The Book of Mormon is loaded with extremes—the far ends of the spectrum. It contains diametrically opposite examples of virtues and vices. When two such extremes are positioned near each other in a text, it is called a “literary foil.” Nephi’s obedience is cast against Laman’s and Lemuel’s dissent and rebellion. Lamanites and Nephites take turns being the righteous and wicked peoples. Jesus arrives in person, followed by two centuries of utopian society; the peace and prosperity crumble into genocidal war and unimaginable depravity in the next two centuries.
I believe that the juxtaposition of extremes is intentional. The symmetry shows us how high we can climb when we embrace certain rules and live by gospel principles, and how far we will fall when we reject them.
Right at the physical middle of the Book of Mormon are two prayers. The first is the rote prayer of the Zoramites offered from the platform called the Rameumptom. The second, contrasting prayer is offered by Alma on behalf of the Zoramites, and his missionary associates, that they will be able to bring them to the knowledge of God.
The back-to-back prayers in Alma 31 are undoubtedly next to each other as a chiasm, and they are placed side by side to promote comparison. But I want to compare the Zoramite prayer with another communication with God found later in the Book of Mormon.
Prayer One
The aforementioned Zoramites built a tower big enough for one person to stand on top, and once a week they would take turns standing atop this tower to recite the following verbatim monologue:
“Holy, holy God; we believe that thou art God, and we believe that thou art holy, and that thou wast a spirit, and that thou art a spirit, and that thou wilt be a spirit forever. Holy God, we believe that thou hast separated us from our brethren; and we do not believe in the tradition of our brethren, which was handed down to them by the childishness of their fathers; but we believe that thou hast elected us to be thy holy children; and also thou hast made it known unto us that there shall be no Christ. But thou art the same yesterday, today, and forever; and thou has elected us that we shall be saved, whilst all around us are elected to be cast by thy wrath down to hell; for the which holiness, O God, we thank thee; and we also thank thee that thou hast elected us, that we may not be led away after the foolish traditions of our brethren, which doth bind them down to a belief of Christ, which doth lead their hearts to wander far from thee, our God. And again we thank thee, O God, that we are a chosen and a holy people. Amen.”
No wonder God gives us problems. Nothing engenders sincerity quite like pain, and sincerity would cure this kind of perfunctory, self-congratulatory, grandstanding worship. There is no inquiring, no pleading, no asking questions. Just smug assurance that all is well, “we’re good enough.”
People often talk about being saved as though it has already happened. Technically, until we are safely dead, no one is fully safe. As mortals, we are “in jeopardy every hour” as Paul says (1Cor. 15:30), because we have agency, the ability to choose to leave our Savior.
The Zoramite prayer is full of know-it-all attitude. They know enough about God, and they are eager to get on with the business of bragging about their status. Aside from the election itself, they fail to describe what greatness on their part qualifies them to be elected to salvation while everyone else is cast to hell. They tout their superior knowledge of divine things as a deciding factor, but that is curious, since they request no further information on the subject. If information makes them “holy children” and saved, why not clamor for more? They also seem delighted that their fellow beings are damned to hell. The largess, the mercy they feel confident to find in God, they themselves deny their brethren. The attitude, the whole tone of the prayer, is casual. One almost expects the prayer to end with instructions for the Lord to feed the cat and leave the garage door closed tonight, because we’ll be home late from the cocktail party.
They had plenty of advice for God, but no questions.
Why is this prayer in the Book of Mormon? Because it is amusing when read from a distance? More likely, it is there to keep us from adopting the same smug, silly attitudes and posturing in our worship and prayers.
These “holy” Zoramites tried to kill Alma’s son, Shiblon, by throwing rocks at him (Alma 38:3-4). During his debriefing, Alma tells Shiblon, “...see that ye do not boast in your own wisdom....Do not pray as the Zoramites do, for ye have seen that they pray to be heard of men, and to be praised for their wisdom. Do not say: O God, I thank thee that we are better than our brethren; but rather say: O lord, forgive my unworthiness, and remember my brethren in mercy—yea, acknowledge your unworthiness before God at all times” (Alma 38:11, 13-14).
How does acknowledging our unworthiness improve our status? Logically, if we are acceptable to God, we should be grateful for it, and acknowledge it. As much as we hate to admit it, we are acceptable only because our unacceptableness has been excused, tolerated by God because Jesus paid the penalty for our sins, and has pled for mercy on our behalf. That is as good as we can be in this life—penitent, willing to try again, and tolerated as we constantly slip up. This is highly unflattering, but it is the truth, and humility means complete deference to the truth, however unflattering or inconvenient.
These proud Zoramites felt qualified to enter the presence of God not because they were holy, but because they were blind to their own lack of qualification, their unholiness. It is a paradox; those who recognize their unworthiness will be able to enter the presence of God comfortably, while those who assume they are ready and clean will feel sheer terror at the prospect of seeing God’s face. Mormon describes what it will be like to enter the presence of God: “Behold, I say unto you that ye would be more miserable to dwell with a holy and just God, under a consciousness of your filthiness before him, than ye would to dwell with the damned souls in hell.” But our interview is inevitable: “For behold, when ye shall be brought to see your nakedness before God, and also the glory of God, and the holiness of Jesus Christ, it will kindle a flame of unquenchable fire upon you” (Morm. 9:4-5). Kidding ourselves about being prepared may make us feel better here and now, but it will not suffice when the moment of crisis arrives. Mormon tells us that we should “cry mightily unto the Father in the name of Jesus, that perhaps ye may be found spotless, pure, fair, and white, having been cleansed by the blood of the Lamb at that great and last day” (Morm. 9:6).
Prayer Two
At the opposite end of the spectrum is the brother of Jared, not even named explicitly in scripture. Whoever he was, we know that he was assigned to act as a liaison with the Lord on behalf of his entire community. They shared two-way communication about problems in the here-and-now. He would ask questions and the Lord would give answers. The Lord gave instructions, and the brother of Jared and his people obeyed.
The Lord commanded him and his people to build barges to cross the ocean. The brother of Jared had a problem—he wanted light inside the barges, but fire inside an airtight wooden barge would not work. Glass windows would shatter. So he asked the Lord for a solution. The Lord threw the question back at him—what do you want me to do so you can have light inside your barges while you cross the sea?
The brother of Jared comes up with a solution, and proposes it to the Lord:
“And it came to pass that the brother of Jared, (now the number of vessels which had been prepared was eight) went forth unto the mount, which they called the mount Shelem, because of its exceeding height, and did molten out of a rock sixteen small stones; and they were white and clear, even as transparent glass; and he did carry them in his hands upon the top of the mount...”
If God is all-seeing and omnipotent, why does the brother of Jared have to ascend the mountain to contact Him? Reason would say, “You come down to me,” but humility says, “I’ll come up closer to you.” He will inconvenience himself rather than be petulant or demanding privileged treatment from the Lord. Notice that his reputation for righteous will not get a boost from audience participation; a mountaintop is too private.
“and cried unto the Lord, saying:
“O Lord, thou hast said that we must be encompassed about by the floods...
No complaining about his assigned circumstances. And listen to this high self-esteem (which we know is the whole point of the gospel):
“Now behold, O Lord, and do not be angry with thy servant because of his weakness before thee; for we know that thou art holy and dwellest in the heavens, and that we are unworthy before thee; because of the fall our natures have become evil continually; nevertheless, O Lord, thou hast given us a commandment that we must call upon thee, that from thee we may receive according to our desires."
A man who is righteous enough to meet the Lord face to face is still apologizing and repenting. The Zoramites could not have been further from God, and they talked like their tickets to heaven were stamped.
“Behold, O Lord, thou hast smitten us because of our iniquity, and hast driven us forth, and for these many years we have been in the wilderness; nevertheless, thou hast been merciful unto us. O Lord, look upon me in pity, and turn away thine anger from this thy people, and suffer not that they shall go forth across this raging deep in darkness; but behold these things which I have molten out of the rock” (Ether 3:2-3).
His prayer is utterly humble. He almost apologizes for existing. Notice the use of the pronoun “we” in his prayer (not the smug royal "we" in the Zoramite sham). It is not a selfish prayer, but one concerned with the benefit of his whole group. It is not spare us because of our holiness, but spare us despite our collective unholiness. He continues:
“And I know, O Lord, that thou hast all power, and can do whatsoever thou wilt for the benefit of man; therefore touch these stones, O Lord, with thy finger, and prepare them that they may shine forth in darkness; and they shall shine forth unto us in the vessels which we have prepared, that we may have light while we shall cross the sea” (Ether 3:4).
He recognizes he and his people are at the mercy of the Lord. The brother of Jared talks about divine nature and power, like the Zoramites, but there is no smugness, no note of finality in his pleading. He is not comfortable. He is in dire straits, and expects the Lord to help him out. “Behold, O Lord, thou canst do this. We know that thou art able to show forth great power, which looks small unto the understanding of men” (Ether 3:5). He has total confidence in God’s power.
(It is interesting to note that modern technology can use silicon, the main ingredient of old-fashioned glass, to produce light without heat via LEDs, light-emitting diodes. The NUMBER LOCK key on my keyboard has an LED next to it, glowing as I type. LEDs use minimal energy because they produce light without heat, and they burn out VERY slowly as a result. I have never seen a keyboard light malfunction. I do not know if the brother of Jared’s small glass stones operated on a similar principle, but it is certain that the point was to have a light source that would not produce heat or smoke, or eat oxygen, and LEDs do just that.)
The brother of Jared then sees the actual finger of the Lord touch the stones he is holding in his hand one by one, and he falls to his knees in fear.
“...and the Lord said unto him: Arise, why hast thou fallen?”
“And he saith unto the Lord: I saw the finger of the Lord, and I feared lest he should smite me...”
“...Sawest thou more than this?”
“...Nay; Lord, show thyself unto me.”
“...Believest thou the words which I shall speak?”
“Yea, Lord.”
“And when he had said these words, behold, the Lord showed himself unto him, and said: Because thou knowest these things ye are redeemed from the fall; therefore ye are brought back into my presence; therefore I show myself unto you” (Ether 3:7-13).
We tend to associate the word “prayer” with one-way communication, “sending one up,” performing a perfunctory task, quickly forgotten. But here, his groveling speech to the Lord gets a response. He answers again, and another response; they are talking with each other in real time, like the exchange in a game of tennis. This is back and forth communication in complete sentences, not searching for omens in owl entrails or divining bone fragments, or reading tea leaves. The brother of Jared needed help; he went up the mountain looking for it, and received new information about God, new light and knowledge he did not already have. The Zoramites approached the Lord with their cups facing down, so to speak, and received nothing because they were content with what they had (which was false information anyway). The brother of Jared went to the Lord humbly, and received more than he bargained for; he met God face to face.
“I saw the finger of the Lord, and I feared lest he should smite me; for I knew not that the Lord had flesh and blood.
“Because of thy faith thou hast seen that I shall take upon me flesh and blood...” (Ether 3:8-9). Instead of a lecture on theology disguised as a prayer, the brother of Jared brought a blank slate, an open hand ready to be filled. He knew some things about the Lord, but was prepared to learn more, and did so almost unintentionally. He only wanted lighting for his boats.
When we approach the Lord as though we already knew everything, we get nothing; when we acknowledge our inadequacy on all fronts, the Lord begins to fill such gaps.
No one is perfectly good or perfectly bad. Everyone is somewhere in between. Most prayers are neither haughty publicity stunts that stink of self-righteous condescension, nor pure humility working miracles in private. But seeing extreme cases side by side is instructive. It highlights the important distinctions and makes them vivid and memorable for us. The Book of Mormon is loaded with that kind of instruction.
We can apply these things in daily life by steering our prayers away from conceited self-righteousness, mindless droning, or giving the Lord advice. We can acknowledge our unworthiness before God. When we are aware of our dependence on Him, have faith in Him, and willingness to do things His way, then our prayers are closer to what they should be anyway, and we are more likely to receive answers and blessings instead of hearing empty static (evidence that we are asking “amiss” (2Ne. 4:35)).
