The Fire of Prayer and the Purchase of Extra Oil

Prayer waits for what is not seen and hopes for what has not yet come to pass. It is vigilance in the darkness. Meant to be an unceasing movement of heart, prayer is a response to the One whose coming is at hand. He is in movement, flowing down from heaven, racing to rescue His Bride, like a champion running His course, like the sun soaring across the sky, rushing toward the darkness to find His Beloved and take her with Him to the great nuptial banquet, to the hidden wine cellar, to the House of the Father. Christ comes to vanquish the gates of hell and prayer responds to Christ's humble self-emptying into human frailty by standing with Him before the powers of sin and death. Springing from the Virgin's womb, He enfolds even the frailest effort to pray with power too great for the world to contain.

Christian prayer is not about maintaining a comfortable status quo. It is no therapeutic self-help exercise taken up to muddle through this dying life. It is no compromise with death. The world as we know it is passing away and spiritual exercises that only reach for stoic resignation of this fact or else offer an escape from it fall short. Nor is prayer actually a safe religious practice that can be carefully locked away behind the four walls of a church. The prayer of Christ's disciples is not a nice nostalgic exercise that comfortably fits into family gatherings and social events. It is no pious twaddle politely calculated to avoid offending sensibilities. Christian prayer is no frantic effort to circumscribe God within the limits of our own sensibilities or cultural conventions.

No. Christian prayer is fire. This fire comes from and reaches for the eternal fire of God's love. This prayer ignites a world sleeping in the dark cold of sin. The heat of this prayer melts frozen hearts. The glow of its flame helps the lost find their way. Though mental pathologies and physical disease abound, prayer's healing warmth and inviting brightness consume heavy burdens and spread with uncontainable power. Just when all seems lost, its faintest spark burns with unsurpassed wisdom. Thus, prayer keeps hope alive in the depths of the heart in the very face of catastrophe.

In these final days before the coming of Christ, unforeseen adversity may seem to extinguish this flame. An exigency of the moment can rise up with such urgency that this fire might, in the moment, be forgot. Arguments and bitter judgments can break out as fierce as any terror of the night or any arrow the flies by day. A storm of destruction can threaten every noble aspiration and dash all dreams of homecoming. Despite every good effort, the best plans and intentions can be shattered in an instant. Yet the fire of prayer is not of this world and there is no darkness that has power to hold it back.

Do not be dismayed or allow yourself to be overwhelmed when, for a moment, you lose your prayerfulness of heart. This fire does not come from ourselves. It is a gift. To recieve it, all one must do is ask. To rekindle it, a simple cry of the heart suffices. The cry is already a movement of the Spirit of Fire igniting the oil of the soul - for the soul is a lamp and the oil is its readiness for prayer.

Yes, this is the flame ignites the oil of wise virgins when the Bridegroom comes. What made those virgins wise was not merely that they had oil -- everyone has a little oil, a little capacity to be set on fire by the Holy Spirit. No. What makes the virgins wise is that they had extra oil.

Because they purchased extra oil they did not need to forsake their station when the coming of the Bridegroom was delayed. They could stand firm and wait for him through the trials of the night. With their own extra oil, they were always ready to ignite their lamps at his coming. What is this extra oil that the fire of prayer needs? No one can give it to another. You need to buy it for yourself. This is the cost of discipleship, a price no one else can pay.

Extra oil is paid for by the spiritual discipline we keep when no one sees. Extra oil is bought by calling to mind the warmth of His presence when it seems that His coming is delayed. Extra oil can cost suffering fidelity to prayer when time for prayer is difficult to keep. Extra oil is purchased with a little extra spiritual reading. Extra oil is sometimes given in a few moments of stolen silence when your household is fast asleep.

Self-denial also purchases this oil for the Cross of Christ is the oil press. Extra oil fills our lamps when we turn the other cheek and walk the extra mile for someone who feels entitled. Extra oil flows in the efforts to forgive and the humility that seeks forgiveness. Extra oil is poured into us in soberiety and fasting. It even trickles into us when we turn off the phone or renounce a little screen time. Extra oil can even be acquired in a subtle act of self-control at a festive gathering.

Extra oil is pressed out for us in the extra kindness and generosity shown to some unknown stranger for no other advantage than he needs help. Extra oil flows when we patiently listen to a troubled heart or lonely soul that God sends our way. Extra oil drips in a silent smile offered for no other reason than the glory of God. Those who have this extra oil never have to leave their station to buy more. They are free to stand in vigilant faithfulness because they have already purchased exactly what they need.

This extra oil is meant to catch fire especially in the night This fire flows warm in the cold darkness as we await the dawn. This power of this fire is very real even when we cannot see the results. For the flame of prayer holds fast what the eye has not seen and the ear has not heard. This furnace of prayer does so with a certainty that not even sin and death can shake. In fact, the prayer of the Just Judge bears away sin and conquers death. Who can stand against Him? We pray with His prayer in us, animating us, raising us, transforming us in ways we cannot understand. And the dawn is coming faster than we realize -- for Christian prayer is already the first rays of this new day that will never end.

From a fresco of Christ and the Virgin Mary in the Monastery of Saint Benedict in Subiaco, Italy