I grew up (and largely remain in, as this is characteristic of large swathes of evangelicalism) a tradition that placed a high value on a person's ability to pray on the spot. A sign of spiritual maturity was that you could say something unique and profound every time you prayed, even if the prayers often became tediously verbose.

Honestly, I still feel a tinge of guilt when I am fumbling for words as I pray. So the other day when I picked up N. T. Wright's recent book, Simply Christian, I felt a great deal of comfort in reading these words.

There's nothing wrong with having a form of words composed by somebody else. Indeed, there's probably something wrong with not using such a form. Some Christians, some of the time, can sustain a life of prayer entirely out of their own internal resources, just as there are hardy mountaineers (I've met one) who can walk the Scottish highlands in their bare feet. Most of us need boots; not because we don't want to do the walking ourselves, but because we do...

There is nothing wrong, nothing sub-Christian...about using words, set forms, prayers, and sequences of prayers written by other people in other centuries. Indeed, the idea that I must always find my own words, that I must generate my own devotion from scratch every morning, that unless I think of new words I must be spiritually lazy or deficient—that has the all-to-familiar sign of human pride, of 'doing it my way': of, yes, works-righteousness. Good liturgy—other people's prayers, whether for corporate or individual use—can be, should be, a sign and means of grace, an occasion of humility (accepting that someone else has said, better than I can, what I deeply want to express) and gratitude. How many times have I been grateful, faced with nightfalls both metaphorical and literal, for the old Anglican prayer which runs,

Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord;
and by thy great mercy
defend us from all perils and dangers of this night;
for the love of thy only Son,
our Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Using formed prayers is relatively new to me, and at times I feel awkward trying to pray the words. The more I do it, though, the more I am learning to understand what Wright is saying here. More significantly, I'm learning to cherish the resultant intimate connection with the body of Christ that transcends space and time, and to mine the treasures of wisdom and devotion which they left us.