“All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” —Blaise Pascal (1623–1662)

In 2014, researchers from the University of Virginia tested people’s ability to … well, sit quietly in a room alone. No devices, no reading material, no paper or pen, nothing. Before each person was tested, the researchers directed their attention to the one thing in the room besides a chair. It was a button that, if pushed, would deliver a mild electric shock. Then they made each subject “test” the button. Asked about the resulting shock, most said they would gladly pay money to not get another one.

Then the test began. Twelve minutes of isolation. Nothing in the room except the person, the chair … and that button.

“They’d already told us they didn’t like the shock. They’d already told us they’d pay not to receive a shock again,” Ph.D student Erin Westgate told The World. “So we weren’t really expecting that people would do that. But at the end of the study, we found that about 70 percent of the men and 25 percent of the women chose to shock themselves during those 12 minutes, instead of just sitting there and entertaining themselves with their thoughts.”

Wait, what? People would rather subject themselves to painful electric shock than be left with no distractions … for 12 minutes?!

We could spend the next hour discussing why the men did something stupid almost three times more often than the women did, but we digress.

The Virginia test took place a decade ago. The same experiment today might yield the same results in under a minute. Psychologists have found that the average adult attention span today has shrunk to 47 seconds (in 2004, it was 2 ½ minutes, and that seemed bad). They’ve also found that as attention spans get smaller, stress gets larger.

Think about the last time you found yourself in a doctor’s waiting room, or a driver’s license facility, or a theater before the movie started. How long did you sit there before you pulled out your phone? How about a long stoplight? Or even the bathroom?

If we even try to sit quietly with just our thoughts, we squirm. We look around. Some of us even keep fidget spinners on our desks. If that shock button were there, we’d be pounding it like a wind-up chimp playing the bongos.

Another time and place

Given all of this, is it any wonder most of us have trouble spending significant time in prayer? We’ve been rewired. When we look at Jesus and the Scripture passage to be highlighted in this Sunday’s sermon, it feels like it took place on another planet:

But the news about him spread even more, and large crowds would come together to hear him and to be healed of their sicknesses. Yet he often withdrew to deserted places and prayed. — Luke 5:15-16

In other translations, “deserted places” becomes “lonely places” or even “the wilderness.” Jesus got himself far away from people, even the people he was closest to. He went to uncomfortable places, where there was no convenient food, shelter or even Wi-Fi. Secret places, where he could pray without distraction.

Jesus easily could have filled his time with ministering to people, healing them, helping them. And often he did. But he also recognized his need to recharge, to reconnect with his Father. And if even he, God incarnate, needed those times and places in order to pray, imagine how much more we need them.

Finding the right spot

Most of us would say we’d like to pray more. It’s the thing we’re supposed to say, but I think we also realize life would feel calmer, sin would look less attractive and truly impacting our community for Christ would seem more in reach.

So how do we learn to pray more?

I love hiking in the mountains. The majesty, the quiet and the solitude of wilderness focus me on God immediately. I feel small in the mountains. My natural inclination on a high trail is, to borrow from John Denver, Talk to God and listen to the casual reply.

Unfortunately, we live in a state where the highest mountain is probably a landfill. So I go to the woods. Sometimes. We have beautiful parks and preserves around here—though they require a drive and more time than I usually am willing to take. But then, even our own back yard is wooded and secluded. In warm months I’ll sit on the patio, light a mosquito torch (the flame somehow reminds me of God’s presence) and read, journal, pray or think. It’s amazing how quickly the time passes.

Winter is harder. I hate the cold and darkness. I also have a hard time building good habits, so even when I find the right place and time inside the house, I don’t easily stick with it. Sometimes even when I want to pray, the words don’t come.

In the words of others

One solution I’ve found, when I’ve got nothing, is to read prayers written by others. Evangelical churches mostly moved away from this practice a generation or two ago, reasoning (I guess) that impromptu prayers were more authentic. We don’t even say the Lord’s Prayer together all that often any more. But we seem OK with singing hymns or worship choruses that we didn’t write—some that aren’t even very good. If those kinds of things still can draw us into authentic worship, I think we could be OK praying from the Psalms, or for that matter the Book of Common Prayer, or Every Moment Holy, or lots of other great resources.

Sometimes I even copy those kinds of prayers into my journal, praying them as my pen moves. And then what can happen is, a prayer written by someone else leads me into a mind space where suddenly I’m praying on my own and it doesn’t feel forced at all.

Let’s help each other

I wish I could say I’m great at this. I’m not. The distractions come fast and furious. One day last week I was praying one minute (OK, 47 seconds) and buying printer ink on Amazon the next.

We’re all wired differently, so maybe we as a church family can help each other on this one. Where and how do you pray? Where is your deserted, lonely place to reconnect with God? Is it a particular room or chair? A spot outdoors? Are you sitting? Kneeling? Walking? Running? Parkouring? And how do you remove distractions? Please share your thoughts in the comments section below. If you tell us about something that works for you, please don’t think of it as bragging. Think of it as sharing a blessing and contributing to a healthy community.

Just be sure you’re properly grounded when you press that “send” button.

Illustration: ChatGPT