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(This is the third installment in a series of posts examining the differences between magical thinking and Christian prayer.)

Human beings tend to be result-oriented creatures.

I doubt that any society is more result-oriented than the United States.  As Americans, we tend to think, whether consciously or not, that the best way, the right way to do things is the way most likely to produce the desired results.

What behavior or principle is most useful for achieving my chosen goal?  That’s the question.

When I organize my life around answers to that question, I have become a utilitarian. (I know.  I’m not being precise.  I am omitting the importance of maximizing benefits for as many as possible, but this isn’t a philosophy paper.)

Utilitarianism is at the heart of magical thinking and its practices.  The goal of magic is always to achieve a desired result – to make someone fall in love with you; to have a successful business trip; to win the bet; to be cured of an illness; to receive god’s blessing by being promoted at work.

So, why not stay at home and pray for these things by yourself at the household shrine?  Didn’t the ancient spirits hear personal prayers?  Why go to the trouble of paying for a magician’s help?

Well, you pay the magician because he/she is the expert in knowing how to use the proper techniques for getting what you want.

Ancient magicians and their patrons saw the universe as if it were a cosmic harp.  The magician was the well-practiced harp player.  He understood that if you can pluck the right cosmic strings in the proper order with the correct

timing, then the world will sing the specific tune that the magician wants to hear.  Those connections are entirely predictable IF you know the necessary way to “pray,” how to cast the right spells, repeat the proper incantations, and position your body accordingly.

The New Testament book of Acts tells a brief story about a magician named Simon who offers an example of magical thinking.  It appears in Acts 8:18-20:

When Simon saw that the Spirit was given at the laying on of the apostles’ hands, he offered them money and said, “Give me also this ability so that everyone on whom I lay my hands may receive the Holy Spirit.”

Peter answered: “May your money perish with you, because you thought you could buy the gift of God with money!

Simon was thinking like a typical magician.  He assumed that when the apostle’s laid their hands on others and they received the Holy Spirit, he was witnessing an impressive new magical technique; something he hadn’t seen before.  So, he responds predictably.  Magicians regularly bought and sold their techniques to each other.  Archaeologist have uncovered libraries of books and manuscripts where descriptions of these techniques are stockpiled with instructions for how to use them effectively.

Peter’s indignant response captures a classical confrontation between two very different world-views.  He knows that the Holy Spirit’s appearance is not due to a human skill in practicing the most effective way to pray while using the correct placement of one’s fingers.

No, the apostle understands that the Holy Spirit is God’s gift given to His children because they need Him.  Christian prayer is not magic.  There is no “technique” for us to master.  The apostle was not a magician.

The most common magical techniques included:

Repetition – key words, names, titles, phrases and letters of the alphabet were said over and over again until repeated for the proper number of times.

Repetition led to persistence – asking for something repeatedly until “getting it right” was essential to striking the right chord, so to speak, so that the cosmic spirits heard the tune they were waiting for.

I suspect that Jesus had these techniques in mind when he told the disciples:

When you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him. (Matthew 6:7-8)

Sometimes the effectiveness of a magical prayer was a matter of proximity.  In other words, some prayers/spells/incantations had to be spoken in the

vicinity of its subject.  Love spells, in particular, were only effective when uttered near the object of one’s affections.  Love potions, poured into the appropriate vial, had to be buried near the person’s home, preferably close to the entry way, if they were to work.

It is easy for us moderns to read about these ancient methods of playing the cosmic harp with large doses of incredulity.  But you might be surprised at how many modern, evangelical Christians have kept these magical techniques well oiled in the American Utilitarian church.

Years ago, I bumped into an old friend who had left the church we once attended together.  I asked how she was doing and if she was attending a new congregation somewhere.  She burst with excitement as she described her newfound church home which had finally taught her how to pray properly.

After years of offering what she described as “powerless prayers” for the conversion of her neighbors, she had now learned that “powerful prayers” had to be spoken immediately in front of a neighbor’s doorway.  Only when the prayers were proclaimed directly at the home’s front door could they penetrate the hearts of family members.

Folks, that is magical thinking par excellence.

Here is another example.

As a college professor, I was always happy to stay in touch with former students after they graduated.  I once received a letter with an accompanying brochure from a recent graduate asking me to pray for his involvement in a large evangelistic campaign to be launched that summer in a major U.S. city.

The brochure was emblazoned with a colorful picture of a hot-air balloon floating over the countryside.  Inside was a detailed description of the various preparations underway for the summer’s events.  Of course, the central activity was prayer, but not just any kind of prayer.

They were relying on balloon-powered prayer – I kid you not.

The brochure cited Ephesians 2:2, which explains that before following Jesus, the Ephesian Christians “followed the ways of this world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient.”

So, because the devil and his minions apparently lived up in the atmosphere according to Ephesians, and because effective, confrontational prayer must happen in close proximity to its subject, the obvious thing to do – or so they thought – was to bind the interfering demons from the wicker basket of a hot air balloon.

I don’t need to tell you how upset I became upon reading how far my former-student had been misled into unbiblical, thoroughly pagan, magical thinking about our Lord Jesus.

Christian prayer is not utilitarian; therefore, it does not depend on technique.

Christian prayer is possible because of the disciple’s personal relationship with our heavenly Father.  And because the Father cannot be manipulated, nor does he have any interest in manipulating us, there are no special techniques that make some people’s prayers more powerful than others.

Christian prayer is a personal conversation between Father and child.

What type of father tells his daughter, “I will only respond to your requests or questions if you walk into my presence backwards, repeat the words ‘daddy please, daddy please, daddy please’ in six consecutive stanzas, and then kiss me three times on each cheek.”?

I’ll tell you:  A psychotic, control-freak of a father.  But that does not describe our God.

Learning to grow in genuine prayer involves matters of spiritual development and maturity, which we don’t have space to take up here. (Again, I recommend reading my book, Knocking on Heaven’s Door: A New Testament Theology of Petitionary Prayer).  Such maturation occurs as a result of spending more and more time with Jesus, becoming more intimidate with our Father in heaven so that we increasingly share in the mind of Christ, living obedient, sacrificial lives.

Growing as a person of prayer has nothing to do with becoming a better technician.