"Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you."--Augustine, Confessions
Prayer does not come naturally to the fallen heart. Our restless hearts are like the writer of Ecclesiastes, searching in vain through knowledge, pleasure and power for enduring meaning, but crying in the end "Meaningless!" They are like the younger prodigal son in Luke 15, who squanders the gifts before him in favor of pig slop, only to realize that his life is impoverished and is fading toward death. Our hearts chase after meaning in every created thing, only to grasp it and watch it slip as sand through their fingers. Family? Money? Entertainment? Stability? Education? Employment? Popularity? Power? Self-esteem? Moral causes? All sand castles waiting for the inevitable tide to wash them away and leave nothing in its wake.
Prayer does not come naturally to the fallen heart. How can the heart, full of deceit and corrupt in its inclinations desire the things of God? We are unable to straighten what is crooked. There is life and life to the full out there to be had, but instead, we follow the sin-tipped tongue of death as she guides us, with unsatisfying sleep and unfulfilling meal, to the grave.
Prayer does not come naturally to the fallen heart. How then can one again delight in He who can truly satisfy? David, amidst his own brokenness, prayed "Create in me a clean heart and renew a right spirit with me. Cast me not away from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of my salvation and grant me a willing spirit to sustain me." Paul writes that we should "work out our salvation with fear and trembling. For it is God who works in us to will and work according to His good pleasure."
We must be born again. Our hearts must pass through the blood of the cross, midwived by the Holy Spirit, and presented to the Father, holy and acceptable in Christ. Then, the throne of judgment that scatters are selfish desires to the night becomes for us a throne of grace. There, we find peace. There, we relearn what it means to sit at the Father's feet in adoration of His holiness and grace. There, our restless hearts find rest.
It is still a difficult proposition to return to that throne day after day, knowing that, though the guilt of our sin is gone, its power remains. Our hearts still yearn for those things that do not satisfy. And we grow more famished and ask God "why?" But the Holy Spirit is putting to death the old man, and even the power of sin grows more diminished. And as He grants us a willing spirit and works in us to will and work according to God's good pleasure, we are prompted with a different "why" question:
Why won't you return to the foot of My throne in prayer and find satisfaction in Me?
