Discussion Questions

David Bercot recommends calling it a “devotional hour” rather than a “prayer hour” because it includes prayer, reflection, Bible reading, devotional reading, and possibly singing—what does that reveal about what God seems to want from our time with Him, and how does it challenge the way you currently measure whether you “had a good prayer time”? JumpstartAnother way to ask: If our time with God includes prayer, Bible reading, thinking, and maybe singing, what does that suggest God wants from us? How does that change how you decide if you had a “good” prayer time?

William Law warns that someone can “pray all his life without any real devotion” if he goes to the closet “in a hurry” repeating a short form of words—where do you see that danger in your own routines, and what would have to change for your praying to become less efficient and more genuinely attentive to God? JumpstartAnother way to ask: Where are you tempted to rush through prayer and just repeat words without really paying attention to God? What would need to change for you to slow down and be more focused on Him?

Bercot suggests you may need to “consciously enter the Lord’s presence” after shutting the door—what assumptions about God’s nearness and our mental distractedness are built into that advice, and how do those assumptions compare with the way modern Christians often talk about God being “always with us” no matter what? JumpstartAnother way to ask: Why would someone need to “enter God’s presence” if God is already near, and why are we so easily distracted? How does that fit—or not fit—with the idea that God is “always with us”?

The chapter offers different “pictures” for approaching God: Isaiah’s throne room with seraphim crying “Holy, holy, holy,” imagining yourself as blind before a majestic King, or picturing the father of the prodigal son—how do these images shape the tone of prayer differently, and what might it say about God’s character that both awe and tenderness are “entirely appropriate”? JumpstartAnother way to ask: How do these pictures of God (a holy King, being blind before Him, or a loving father) change the mood of your prayer? What does it say about God that both fear/awe and warmth/tenderness make sense?

Bercot says God “is closer to your soul than your own flesh is” and “literally right beside you when you pray”—how does that claim confront the way you tend to pray (or avoid praying), and what would it practically change if you truly believed God’s presence was that immediate? JumpstartAnother way to ask: If God is really that close when you pray, how does that challenge the way you usually pray—or avoid praying? What would you do differently if you truly believed He was right there?

He advises spending “a minute or two just enjoying His presence” and using that time to “free your mind of all distracting thoughts” so you can “focus on God alone”—what do you think early Christians assumed about preparation for prayer that we often skip, and what competes most aggressively for your attention when you try to be still? JumpstartAnother way to ask: What kind of “getting ready” for prayer do you think early Christians did that we often skip today? When you try to be quiet with God, what distracts you the most?

The chapter notes Scripture doesn’t command one posture, but it does direct believers to “lift up holy hands” (1 Timothy 2:8)—what do you think “holy hands” implies about the relationship between obedience, moral life, and effective prayer, and how does that sit with modern evangelical instincts about prayer being mainly a matter of sincerity? JumpstartAnother way to ask: What do you think “holy hands” means about how your choices and character connect to your prayers? How does that compare with the idea that prayer is mostly about being sincere?

Bercot describes early Christian posture patterns: standing with hands lifted for praise/thanks, standing on Sundays because every Sunday celebrated the resurrection, kneeling for supplication (except Sundays), and sometimes prostrate when confessing serious sins—what do these practices suggest early Christians believed about the body’s role in worship, and what modern assumptions does that quietly rebuke? JumpstartAnother way to ask: What do these early Christian postures suggest they believed about using the body in worship? What modern attitudes about worship does that challenge?

The examples of the tax collector “standing afar off” beating his breast, and Jesus shifting from looking up in thanks to kneeling and then falling on His face in Gethsemane, highlight posture matching the kind of prayer—what kinds of prayers (thanksgiving, supplication, confession) have become underrepresented in your devotional life, and what might your body language reveal about what you really believe in those moments? JumpstartAnother way to ask: Which kinds of prayer—thanks, asking for help, or confessing sin—do you do the least in your time with God? What might your posture and body language show about what you really believe when you pray?

Bercot cautions, “don’t get so engaged in your reading that you neglect praying,” while also allowing that some days may involve more reading and reflecting than praying—what would a balanced “devotional hour” look like for you in concrete terms, and what motives (performance, guilt, control, comfort) might push you toward either hiding in reading or rushing through prayer? JumpstartAnother way to ask: What would a balanced “devotional hour” look like for you (prayer, reading, and thinking) in a normal day? What might push you to hide in reading or to rush through prayer—like guilt, trying to perform, wanting control, or wanting comfort?