We know almost nothing about Enoch. Genesis gives him four verses, and the most important thing it says is this: “Enoch walked with God, and he was not, for God took him” (Genesis 5:24).
Notice the word. Not “Enoch had a quiet time.” Not “Enoch prayed for twenty minutes before work.” He walked with God. A walk is not an appointment. It is a companionship that goes on while you are doing other things: talking, noticing, falling silent, picking the conversation back up.
That is what Paul means by “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17). He is not asking us to stay on our knees all day. He is inviting us into a life where God is never far from our attention. Christians across the centuries have worked out very practical ways to do that. Here are a few I have found most helpful.
1. Anchor the day with fixed times
Praying all day starts with praying at set times. That sounds backward, but it is how God’s people have always done it.
David prayed “evening and morning and at noon” (Psalm 55:17). Daniel knelt three times a day with his windows open toward Jerusalem, even when it could cost him his life (Daniel 6:10). Peter and John were going up to the temple “at the hour of prayer” when they met the lame man (Acts 3:1). The Didache, one of the earliest Christian documents outside the New Testament, told believers to pray the Lord’s Prayer three times a day.
Fixed times are like fence posts. They are not the whole fence, but without them nothing else holds up. Start small: a few minutes in the morning, a pause at lunch, a short prayer before bed. Tie them to things you already do, like your first cup of coffee, your drive home or brushing your teeth. Over time, the posts start to connect.
2. Pray in between
When the king asked Nehemiah what he wanted, Nehemiah says, “So I prayed to the God of heaven. And I said to the king…” (Nehemiah 2:4–5). There was no time to kneel. He shot a prayer up between the question and the answer.
The church has always valued these short prayers. Augustine, writing to a widow named Proba, admired the monks of Egypt who prayed often but briefly, darting quick prayers to God so their attention would not grow dull. The Puritans called them “ejaculatory prayers,” from the Latin for an arrow or dart. The Eastern church shaped one into the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner,” built from the tax collector’s cry in Luke 18:13 and prayed in rhythm with the breath.
In the 1600s, a lay brother named Lawrence worked in a monastery kitchen in Paris. In The Practice of the Presence of God he says he felt as close to God amid the clatter of pots and pans as he did at the Lord’s Supper. He was no mystic genius. He just kept turning his attention back to God, over and over, until it became a habit.
Try a few arrows of your own:
- Before a hard conversation: “Lord, give me your words.”
- When you are irritated: “Jesus, have mercy on me.”
- When something goes well: “Thank you, Father.”
- When you don’t know what to do: “Lead me.”
You will forget for hours at a time. Brother Lawrence did too. Don’t beat yourself up. Just turn back.
3. Look back before you lie down
Often we only notice where God was after he has passed by. Moses saw God’s back, not his face (Exodus 33:23). Walking with God includes a daily look over your shoulder.
In the 1500s, Ignatius of Loyola taught a short evening prayer called the examen. You ask the Spirit to replay the day with you, notice where you sensed his presence and where you resisted him, give thanks, confess, and ask for grace for tomorrow. It is Psalm 139 put into practice: “Search me, O God, and know my heart!”
The Puritans did something similar with pen and paper. Many of them kept spiritual diaries, writing down God’s mercies, their sins and the providences they could not yet explain. Jonathan Edwards, heir to that tradition, wrote out his famous Resolutions as a young man and reviewed them weekly. The point was not to keep score. It was to learn to see God’s hand in ordinary days.
A simple version for tonight, five minutes before bed:
- Thanks. Where did I see God’s kindness today?
- Presence. When did I sense him near? When did I forget him?
- Confession. Where did I sin or resist his nudge?
- Tomorrow. What do I need from him in the morning?
4. Build a trellis, not a cage
None of this happens by accident. You will not drift into walking with God. Our days are full, our phones are loud and our attention is under constant attack.
John Mark Comer’s answer, borrowed from the monastic tradition, is a rule of life. Saint Benedict wrote his Rule in the sixth century to order a monk’s day around prayer, work and rest. In Practicing the Way, Comer compares a rule to a trellis. A vine needs something to grow on, or it sprawls on the ground and never bears much fruit. A rule is simply a handful of practices, chosen on purpose, that give your life with God something to climb.
Comer also insists that you cannot walk with God at a sprint. In The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry he points to Sabbath as the weekly practice that resets the whole rhythm: one day to stop, rest, worship and delight, received as a gift and not earned. Jesus walked about three miles an hour. If we want to keep pace with him, most of us have to slow down.
A starter rule might be as simple as:
- Scripture and prayer before the phone each morning
- A short pause to pray at noon
- Arrow prayers through the day
- The examen before bed
- One day a week of Sabbath rest
- Weekly worship and a few believers who know how you are really doing
Start with two. Add more when those feel like home.
Keep walking
The Christian life is not a series of spiritual mountaintops with long valleys in between. It is a walk. Some days you will be deep in conversation with God. Other days you will realize at dinner that you have not thought of him since breakfast. Either way, the invitation is the same: turn back and keep walking.
Enoch walked with God for three hundred years, and then one day he just kept walking, right into glory. That is the hope for every believer. Not that we would master prayer, but that we would spend our lives in the company of the God who loves us, until the walk becomes home.