These are some snippets from a email conversation I've been having on contemplative, or wordless, prayer. It may all seem a bit disjointed and rushed. That is largely due to lack of time. But I hope they still make some kind of sense.
I must confess that wordless contemplative prayer is something I don't really 'get'. This may be down to my personality which has some trouble contemplating and meditating about anything. Although, it is also because I think prayer is about communication and specifically about petition.
It is unusual be in someone's presence and not talk to them, and it is unusual to be in the presence of someone who loves to give of his riches when you are deeply poor and not ask them for things.
Karl Barth says of pray that "in the first instance, it is simply asking". "It is the fact that [a person] comes before God with his petition which makes him a praying man" (CD III/3, p.268, cited on p. 49, Tim Chester, The Message of Prayer). Tim Chester, who shaped my thinking on this a great deal, comments:
"I have been frustrated by members of my congregation who could not be exhorted to focus on the praise of God or on confession without moving on to petition. It is an attitude of which I now repent. We too easily think of those who move into contemplative modes of praying or those who make worship or confession the focus of their praying as those who are advanced prayers. It is not so. We must recognize that it is the 'unsophisticated', simple prayers who truly express trust in divine Majesty., who truly acknowledge their own need before God, and who have truly grasped the freedom of the Father-child relationship. Many books on prayer exhort us to search for deeper experiences in prayer or more sophisticated modes of prayer that breed a sense of inadequacy in some and of superiority in others. The Bible invites us to find the model of prayer in the simple petitioning of a child before a father. This leads to freedom and peace."
(ibid)
Nevertheless, I think there is a place for stillness and silence which can help in calming your spirit. But I think that is not what I would call prayer, and can only really happen knowing that you have brought your cares and worries to a Father who has the says he will deal with them and has the ability to do so. If it is not in that context it contains the danger of being an act of escaping reality and burying your head in the sand. Much better is a faithful resting in the Father's promise to hear prayers offered in the name of his Son.
[...]
I do most of my thinking out-loud, in conversation, or while reading. That is the way I work, for good or ill. So I love this sort of discussion, but it does make me less receptive to the idea of wordless prayer. That may not necessarily be a good thing though. 'That is my personality' is not a good reason for very much, so it is good to be challenged.
You are right that a lot of our communication is not by words. Although I think they are more important than the commonly repeated statistics would suggest. But whether or not that is true, can we then just apply our experience of human relationships to our relationship with God? If I am communicating by telephone I can't communicate visibly, and if by letter then words are my only option. We walk by faith and not by sight in our relationship with God, and faith comes by hearing. I think it is fair to say that words are fundamental to our relating to God. That may even be why Jesus is called 'The Word'. I don't think that is a permanent state of affairs because we will see him eventually, but that is the way things are now.
That may sound an awfully restricted view of our relationship with God. N may well argue that it is. But I would tend to think that it is good news.
If God is invisible and intangible to us people waiting between his ascension and his second coming then the only avenue that he can communicate to us except through external words (spoken or visible, e.g. sacraments) is through internal words or feelings. If God is communicating to me through those internalised words and feelings then I'm in big trouble. I am creature committed to self-deception. Much of the time my inner thoughts tell me that God approves of me being thoughtless, cruel and selfish. My internal god (because in practice it is a separate deity) serves to make me more and more complacent in my sin, instead of forming me into the likeness of his Son. Other times my inner thoughts may remind me of how deeply ingrained is sin in my life. It tells me that there is no hope of me forming a relationship with God because I'm unworthy. It tells me that I'll never change because I never really have in the past.
In contrast the external word of God tells me I'm more sinful than we could ever know, but more loved than I could imagine. It tells me that, no matter what I feel, I deserved to be hung on a tree but I am now an adopted son of the Father in Christ who died for me.
There are two different ways we can relate to God. One is outward looking and the other is inward looking. One listens to external words and responds in kind, the other listens to internal words (which is really our own voice) and responds in kind. But, doesn't God live in me? Of course we are told that if we are Christians he does. We are told that the Holy Spirit dwells in us and that Christ lives is in us. But it is notable that it doesn't say that the same of the Father, and in almost every New Testament instance of prayer it is the Father whom we address.
So that is a bit more of a broad-brush picture of where I'm coming from. I can see how it could be criticised that it is quite a restricted conception of our relationship with God, but I think that it adds more colour and shape to our understanding. It is more solid and reliable, and I need my relationship with God to be as solid and reliable as his promises are when times get tough.
But as I've said earlier, I think there is a place for wordless quiet in our lives. I just think that it is secondary to, and dependant on, words.