Continuing a Lenten series on prayer: Prayer is co-operation with

The words of E. Stanley Jones — “Prayer is co-operation with God. It is the purest exercise of the faculties God has given us — an exercise that links these faculties with the Maker to work out the intentions He had in mind in their creation” — are a river of truth flowing from the wellspring of divine intimacy. Spoken during one of his Lenten reflections, Jones, the great Methodist missionary and theologian, captures the very essence of what it means to commune with the Divine. To him, prayer is not merely the act of speaking to God, but the act of working with Him — of aligning one’s mind, heart, and will with the eternal rhythm of creation. In this statement lies the wisdom of a man who did not see prayer as retreat, but as participation; not as escape from the world, but as the shaping of it through divine harmony.

In calling prayer “co-operation with God,” Jones unveils a mystery that the ancients long knew: that human beings are not passive recipients of fate, but partners in divine purpose. When one prays, one does not merely ask for intervention, but enters into the sacred labor of creation itself. The mind becomes a tool of thought, the heart a vessel of love, and the soul a bridge between heaven and earth. Prayer, in this sense, is not begging the Almighty to act, but joining Him in His work — allowing the spirit of God to breathe through the human faculties He Himself designed. The one who prays, therefore, does not bend God’s will to his own, but discovers the will of God within him, and in that discovery, finds peace, clarity, and power.

Jones’s insight is born of both Scripture and experience. Throughout his life, he labored as a missionary in India, living among people of many faiths and seeing how every sincere seeker — Christian, Hindu, Muslim, or Buddhist — reached toward the same divine reality. In that great diversity, he found a single truth: that prayer is the universal dialogue of the soul with its Source. But for Jones, what made Christian prayer unique was this sense of co-creation — the belief that God not only listens, but invites His children to join in His eternal work. The faculties of thought, imagination, and emotion, when surrendered to the Spirit, become instruments through which divine purpose flows into the world. Thus, to pray is to become a conduit of God’s intention, shaping reality with the power of faith and obedience.

Consider the example of Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who, like Jones, lived and served in India. Her days were filled with labor — feeding the hungry, tending to the dying, comforting the forgotten — yet she often said that prayer was the engine of her strength. “I am but a pencil in the hand of God,” she would say. This is the very image Jones speaks of: cooperation with the Maker, the surrender of one’s faculties to divine authorship. Through prayer, Mother Teresa did not merely petition God for aid; she became His instrument, her hands moving in rhythm with His compassion. Such is the power of prayer rightly understood — it transforms the human will from resistance to participation, from isolation to communion.

Jones’s phrase, “the purest exercise of the faculties God has given us,” reveals the sacred nature of prayer as a discipline of alignment. The mind, often restless and self-seeking, is purified in prayer, learning to dwell not on fear but on truth. The heart, so easily swayed by desire and sorrow, learns to love beyond itself. The voice, which in the world is used for argument and complaint, becomes a channel for praise and intercession. Thus, every aspect of the human person is brought into harmony with divine intention. Prayer becomes the symphony of creation itself — the creature echoing the Creator, tuning its being to the music of eternity.

To describe prayer as an “exercise” is to emphasize that it requires effort, constancy, and devotion. Just as the body must be strengthened through repeated movement, so too must the soul grow through continual communion. One does not master prayer by words alone, but by persistence — by returning again and again to the quiet center where God dwells. In that stillness, the soul learns that prayer is not about changing circumstances, but about changing the self, until the self and the divine are one in purpose. The ancients would have called this theosis — the process of becoming more like God through participation in His nature.

The lesson of Jones’s words is clear: prayer is not an act of retreat, but of engagement; not a whisper into the void, but a partnership with eternity. Those who pray with understanding do not withdraw from life, but enter it more fully, carrying the light of divine cooperation into every thought and action. To live prayerfully is to live purposefully — to awaken each morning with the question, “How may I work with God today?” It is to see every encounter, every challenge, as an opportunity to embody His love and wisdom.

Therefore, let the wisdom of E. Stanley Jones guide all who seek to deepen their communion with the Divine. Pray not as beggars, but as builders with God. Offer not mere words, but your very faculties — your mind, your heart, your strength — that they may be instruments of His creation. For when prayer becomes cooperation, the distance between heaven and earth disappears. The soul that prays thus becomes what it was always meant to be: a living harmony between the Creator and the created, working together to bring light into the world.