Offering A Life Of Prayer

Rogation Sunday

The Rev. Michael Vinson+ Rector

The Epistle. James 1:22-27; The Gospel. John 16:23-33

There is a sacred hush to this season—a time when the earth, vibrant with

spring’s promise, waits in breathless anticipation beneath the ever-lengthening

days. The fields, fragrant with new hope, seem to pulse with life, as if all creation

holds its breath, poised on the threshold of the divine. This is Rogationtide: a holy

season of asking, of fervent prayer, of seeking heaven’s blessing for the toil of

human hands and the fruitfulness of the earth.

Just as the earth waits in hope, so too does the Church find herself at a

threshold. Easter’s alleluias still echo in our hearts, yet the Ascension shimmers

on the horizon, and the world itself seems to pause in anticipation. It is a moment

when both land and soul ache for blessing: for rain and for righteousness, for

fruitful harvests and for hearts attuned to God’s love. This is Rogation

Sunday—the fifth and final Sunday of Eastertide—when, across centuries,

Christians have traced the boundaries of their fields, their parishes, and their very

lives, pleading for God’s favor and guidance.

The word Rogation comes from the Latin rogare, meaning “to ask.”

Traditionally, Rogationtide included not just prayers for crops and weather, but

processions through the fields—sometimes with children and choirboys carrying

sticks and wands, beating the bounds of the parish as the priest prayed and

blessed the land. This wonderful tradition of processing across the land reminds

us that our lives, like our fields, have boundaries that need blessing, and that our

work is inseparable from our dependence on God.

Knowing our creaturely dependence drives us to our knees, to humbly ask,

to go to our Father in prayer. This spirit of humble asking is echoed in the very

words of Jesus we hear in today’s Gospel. So, this final Sunday in Easter is

called “Rogation Sunday” mainly because this theme of “asking” is so

prominently featured.

“Jesus said unto his disciples, Verily, I say unto you, whatsoever ye shall

ask the Father in my name, he will give it to you. Hitherto have ye asked nothing

in my name: ask, ye shall receive, that your joy may be full.” He knows his time

on earth is drawing near, so he tells his disciples to come before the Father and

to ask for whatever they need, for the time when Jesus will no longer reside with

them on earth is fast approaching. For though he will die, he will rise on the third

day. And after 40 days, he will gather his disciples on the mount and ascend into

Heaven.

Up to this point, they have not asked anything in his name, but he is going

to heaven, “I leave the world, [he says] and go to the Father.” His bodily absence

means they will need to pray: Oh, how they will need to pray! And they will need

to ask the Father in his name. Which is why Jesus taught them beforehand, in

response to the apostles’ request to “teach them how to pray” saying, “Our

Father who art in heaven hallowed be thy name.” He as preparing them then for

the day of his departure.

Like the apostles, we need to be instructed on prayer as well. For many, I

suppose, prayer is simply taking a few minutes to ask God for something,

according to some occasion or, more often, in times of trouble or emergencies.

But prayer is more essential than “this” or “that” particular request. Christian

prayer is a much more radical sort of asking; it is at the heart of the Christian life.

Prayer is the habit of relating and referring every thought, word, and deed

to our Father, seeking Him in every circumstance. And we do so through Jesus

Christ, praying in His name. Prayer is much more than offering particular

petitions. It is repentance, adoration, thanksgiving, supplication, and interceding

for others. It isn’t a talisman or magic charm used to change God’s will. Prayer is

looking into the mirror of God’s charity, remembering his faithfulness, goodness,

and love, and being changed by what we see.

This vision of God in prayer transforms as we’re drawn into God’s

presence, not merely to receive answers, but by encountering His faithfulness

and love. If we’re honest, we often equate the value of praying with receiving

what we ask for: health, protection, a job, the return of a wayward child, or finding

a godly wife or husband to marry— whatever we are in desperate need of.

“Prayer is valuable because, by it, I get what I think I need.” Yet, we are not

God’s customers; we are his children. Our relationship is sacramental, not

transactional. My friends, beyond every answered prayer is the greater gift: the

One who listens, who welcomes us, who draws us close.

The deepest blessing of prayer is not the fulfillment of our requests, but the

embrace of God’s presence itself. Prayer nourishes our relationship with Him,

drawing us nearer to our truest love—like two friends resting beneath the

sheltering branches, simply delighting in one another. Through prayer, we are

invited into the very life of God. By the Spirit’s power, we ascend into communion

with the Father and His beloved Son, Jesus Christ. Above all else, prayer brings

us to God—and brings God near to us.

We often overlook this aspect of prayer mainly because we’re so focused

on our present circumstances, panicked and anxious, consumed by the

circumstances for which we’re praying in the first place. We’re focused on what

we hope to get rather than the One who graciously gives. If you find yourself

struggling with anxiety or weighed down by fears, know that you are not alone.

God welcomes your honest prayers in every emotional state, even when

your words are faltering, your mind is restless, or your heart is heavy. Our Father

invites us to come just as we are, with all that we carry, and promises He to meet

us in our need with gentleness and love. “For the Father himself loveth you,

(says Jesus) because ye have loved me, and have believed that I came out from

God.”

And this is why Jesus tells his disciples to ask (rogare) that they may

receive the things they are asking for, but more importantly, “that their joy may be

full.” That they might enter into the love of the Father. You see, first and

foremost, prayer brings us into the joy of being with our God. But prayer is not

limited to moments of asking. It shapes the whole of our lives.

Beloved, the practicality of Christian life is not the practicality of rules and

standards, as good as those might be. The practicality of Christian life depends

upon the practicality of our prayer. And I don’t mean just “saying prayers,” though

that is a beginning, a sort of method of prayer. By prayer, I not only mean our

spoken prayers, but our very lives, being a prayer offered to God.

You see, this is the other aspect of Christian prayer: we pray, “not only with

our lips but with our lives, giving ourselves to God’s service and walking before

Him in holiness and righteousness all our days” (as we pray in Daily Prayer). The

fullest understanding of Christian prayer is to see it as an offering, not only our

words but our very lives as well. This Christian life, your body and soul, and all

that you are, is a prayer offered to God each and every day.

What is a life lived in a continual posture of prayer? First, it seeks the union

of the soul with God. It desires the Giver or the gift, not simply the gift. Yes, it

asks for every need because we need God to do what we simply can’t but also

delights in and takes comfort in the Lord’s presence, no matter how long it takes

Him to answer, or even if, in His wisdom, He chooses another path for our good.

In addition, a life of prayer “does the Word,” obeying the apostle’s

exhortation. Just as forming the holy habit of Daily prayer requires discipline and

perseverance, so does a life of prayer. We offer our lives as an acceptable

prayer when we walk in the commandments of the Lord.

“Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, writes St.

James, “to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction.” When we serve the

poor, feed the hungry, clothe the naked—when we reach out in friendship to the

lonely and walk alongside those drowning in sorrow and grief—we fulfill the

Royal Law: loving God above all and loving our neighbors as He has loved us.

This is a life of prayer, holy and pleasing to the Father.

Finally, a life of prayer draws us further into the kingdom of God as we

detach from and hold the lesser things of this world loosely. To wean us from our

worldliness, a reorientation of values is required. We need grace to re-order our

loves and desires, seeking God’s kingdom and his righteousness. We must pray

for God’s assistance.

Shaping one’s life into a prayer offered to God requires a thousand

repetitions of hearing the Gospel lessons, the regular and continual grace

received in the sacrament of Holy Communion, and enduring a thousand

tribulations in this world until we learn to live by His Spirit as citizens of heaven

on earth, a people in the world but not of it. This life of prayer begins low, on our

knees, asking God for his strength, his grace, his forgiveness, and his help.

“Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, he will give it you.” Through

prayer, we who are low are lifted to the heights of heaven.

Friends, offering your life as a prayer to God will not go without difficulties

or distress. Remember what Jesus told us, “In this world you will have

tribulations.” But my friends, in God’s providence, trials and tribulations have their

place, for it was only through tribulation that the first disciples came to know the

full meaning of Christ’s words. After his crucifixion, they were, as the Lord

predicted, scattered.

Eventually, the Apostles were reviled, falsely accused, and even martyred.

And every trial and every moment of tribulation brought them to their knees

(brought them to the Father), asking, praying, crying out to Him in the name of

Jesus, and they received the comfort of the Holy Spirit. The earnestness of their

prayers was evidenced by their lives.

In meeting every tribulation head-on through a life of prayer (both in word

and deed), they found joy in suffering, and, in death, they overcame the world.

My friends, consider this: the trial you are enduring right now and the tribulation

that lies ahead might just be a divine gift that brings you closer to your Savior.

Each of us faces different struggles and sorrows, some known only to God.

Your hardships and pain may be unlike anyone else’s but know that you have no

need to hide them in this beautiful parish of ours. As you walk through these

seasons, remember that you are not meant to bear your burdens alone. We are

called to bear one another’s burdens.

I encourage you to seek support from your clergy and brothers and sisters

in this parish, to lean on one another in prayer, encouragement, and love, that

together we might know the comfort and presence of Christ in our midst. And

remember, in all things ask, for He hears you. Trust his answer, his silence or

delay, for He is good, and he loves you— that your joy may be full.

Amen+