In the gospel of St. Luke, the Lord is represented several times as engaged in prayer, a circumstance in exquisite keeping, surely, with the intention of the gospel — which is to present Him to the gaze of adoring hearts as the Son of Man, perfect in His dependence upon God―and one fraught with deep significance to us. In this, as in all things else, He has left us an example that we should follow in His steps.
In the perfect dependence of the Lord we do not see that lifeless, impassive spirit which some affect, who profess to be so dependent as to be independent of times and seasons for prayer. Oh, no! And if it was His practice to withdraw for prayer, should it not also be ours?
In the midst of His work, and the height of His fame, Jesus retired to pray. There went “a fame abroad of Him: and great multitudes came together to hear, and to be healed by Him of their infirmities. And He withdrew Himself into the wilderness and prayed.” (Luke 5:15, 1615But so much the more went there a fame abroad of him: and great multitudes came together to hear, and to be healed by him of their infirmities. 16And he withdrew himself into the wilderness, and prayed. (Luke 5:15‑16).)
There must be this withdrawing of ourselves frequently into the sole company of God, if we are to do His work, and if we are to know Him at all as friend knows friend. Yet how disinclined the heart often is to it. How seldom are we really face to face, as it were, alone with God, unless forced into His presence to obtain some mercy, some needed boon! But for Jesus to withdraw Himself into the wilderness to pray, was for love to delight in the sole companionship of its object. “I am not alone, for the Father is with Me.” If serving man was sweet to Him, the service was rendered in communion with His Father, and His God? And this holy dwelling of His soul in the Father’s love was His refuge as the perfect Man. B.