“Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.” (Romans 8:26)
Of course I don’t know how to pray on my own without the Holy Spirit’s help. I never will know how, and the only wise statement I can make about it is that I realize my spiritual limits. I’ve been praying, or listening to my mother pray before I could hardly talk, and though I’ve been doing it all of my life, nevertheless I cannot pray without help. And that help can only come from the Lord, the Spirit of truth.
This is so clear to me. I cannot predict what I will be doing or how I will feel one hour from now, much less tomorrow or next week. It takes but a phone call to disassemble my whole plan for the day. What then shall I ask for at this moment? I well know the adage: Be careful what you ask for: You may get it. I can ask for something that might be harmful to me. Then the Lord will say, “Why are you asking Me for what you don’t want or will only hurt you?” I don’t know enough to make a sensible request, nor do I know really what is best for me. I’m a parent. I remember what it’s like to say ‘No’ to my child, even when I want to please him. I should put this in past tense, of course, my boys are now men; but the memory of refusing them is still fresh in my mind.
In ancient times the Greek teachers said much the same. Socrates advised his followers not to pray for anything specific, only for what was beneficial, and to allow God to decide what those good things would be. Conditions remain the same, because we are human, and as such we are limited—more bluntly, we are ignorant of what is good for us. What are we to do about it?
St. Paul offers the only authentic solution. Admit our weakness and invite the Holy Spirit to help out. We are baptized into Christ and have put on Christ; further, we were sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit. When we sigh, a sign of helplessness but not frustration, a signal of human frailty and limitation, we are indicating that we are ready and willing to open our hearts to the Spirit. Then the Spirit also sighs; but we cannot hear it. He is interceding for us, addressing the Father on our behalf—it’s a divine dialogue and we are the agenda. God in us is conversing with the God beyond. No, not exactly conversing, but I’m bereft of words to describe their communication. They are sharing whatever They know about our condition. Here’s what the Son of God meant by: “Father, into Your hands I commend My spirit. Not My will, but Your will be done!” (Luke 23:46)
The Father searches my heart. He knows what are there—my thoughts and memories, my illusions and delusions, my feelings and my anxieties—He understands me so much better than I can ever know myself. And He knows the mind of the Spirit. He knows that in my heart is love of the Father, limited and feeble as that love is, and so They accept my prayer in Christ, letting me say whatever I babble, like a four-year-old on a bicycle ignoring the training wheels, thinking he’s doing the balancing, while the Spirit is sighing, the Father is listening, and the Son is leading me ever forward, albeit on a weaving and at times crooked path to the Kingdom.