THAT GUY ON THE BENCH.

Hundreds of people walk by this man of bronze sitting on a lonely bench on old Broadway every single day, but how many of us actually notice him? Do we even know who he is or what he stands for? He's difficult to miss the first time around but easy to ignore every time afterwards in this fast-paced city. And yet he is always there, day in and day out, sitting serenely with a Bible clasped in his left hand and his right hand sitting open, an invitation. "An invitation to what?" you may ask. "To prayer," he replies. Will you take it? For some, the answer may be a resounding "yes," for others perhaps an "absolutely not," and for all the rest, a genuine "I don't know." Nevertheless, the invitation is there, and the choice is yours.

It wasn't until today that I took the time to learn his story, or at the very least his name: Jeremiah Lanphier. Now simply referred to as "that guy on the bench" (sitting just outside the American Bible Society on 1865 Broadway), the real Jeremiah Lanphier was a businessman (and not any sort of clergyman) who lived during the 19th century and managed to transform the lives of thousands of people through the power of prayer. And if this name sounds familiar to you, it certainly ought to because Lanphier is one of the "prayer-warriors" that Jerry Falwell lifts up in his book Listen, America!, along with E. M. Bounds and Evan Roberts. But what is prayer? According to Falwell, it is a "...means of moving God to do what he would not otherwise do if prayer were not offered," and "Every great revival in the history of the Christian church has been bathed in prayer." He recognizes prayer as a wonderful power, a tool bestowed upon His saints in order to accomplish great and unusual things.

But prayer in itself is nothing, means nothing, if it is not supported by belief. Prayer is a theme, a practice, that has appeared in virtually every text and religious experience we have explored this semester, and in every case the rule has been the same. It does not matter how long the prayer is, how elaborately it is constructed, or how loud it is said. So long as that genuine desire to communicate with God, whoever or whatever that may be, is missing, prayer is useless. This, of course, assumes that God is real, and that God loves and wants you to communicate with Him as well, and believing isn't necessarily the easiest thing to do in the world. Prayer is almost exclusively associated with religion, and so those who identify as nonreligious feel automatically excluded. For them, prayer simply isn't an option.

I disagree. If we human beings had the capacity to comprehend God's will, or rather, to understand fully the world we live in and the circumstances we face, there would be no need for prayer. But the fact is we don't know. We don't know why evil or gratuitous suffering exist, we don't know why bad things happen to good people, and worst of all we don't know how to stop it. Our human nature alone isn't enough to stop it. As a matter of fact, our own natures are often the cause of our own grief, as history (and Reinhold Niebuhr) has shown us over and over again. But prayer offers us a way out, if only we will take it. It is a shout for help, a hope for healing, a cry for repentance. Better yet, prayer doesn't require you to be sure about anything, and you don't have to be a saint to use it because not only is it a powerful tool, prayer is a gift. If you are happy, pray. If you are sad, pray. If you are amazed by the beauty of the sunset, pray. If you feel alone and distressed (like John Grimes), pray. There are no limits.

So again, the invitation is open to you. At worst, it is a cathartic release but overall a shot in the dark. At best, it is a candle lighting your way in darkness. So, might it be worth a try?