The Sermon on the Mount (18): Praying in Secret
In Matthew 6, Jesus continues His teaching on righteousness—not merely as outward behavior, but as the overflow of a transformed heart. Previously, we looked at almsgiving; now we turn to prayer, and next, to fasting. These disciplines—giving, praying, and fasting—are practical expressions of an inner life oriented toward God. Though they are outward practices, Jesus consistently emphasizes that they must arise from inward devotion.
The righteousness described in chapter 5 was one that surpassed that of the scribes and Pharisees—not because it added rules, but because it penetrated deeper. This righteousness is not a product of willpower or moral striving. It is the fruit of union with Christ, mediated by the indwelling Spirit, who empowers us to walk in obedience and joy. Love, Paul says in Galatians, fulfills the Law. When we walk by the Spirit, we no longer live under the tyranny of the flesh. Thus, God’s commandments are no longer burdensome; they are invitations to participate in divine life.
Jesus warns us, however, that even sacred practices can be distorted. Religious acts performed for human praise are emptied of their eternal value. When we give, pray, or fast to be noticed, we have our reward in full—but it is fleeting. True righteousness flows not from performance, but from communion.
This warning is particularly relevant when it comes to prayer. Many of us long for clarity on how much time to pray, how often, or in what manner. Yet Scripture remains intentionally vague. The disciplines of prayer, study, and giving are not one-size-fits-all. They are relational and dynamic. The Spirit may prompt you in one season to lean in more intentionally; in another, He may lead you to rest. The danger lies in presumption—delaying obedience today in hopes of a better time tomorrow. James cautions us not to presume on the future: “You are just a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away” (James 4:14). Deferring what we know to be right is not neutrality—it is sin (v. 17).
In Matthew 6:5, Jesus says, “When you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to stand and pray… so that they may be seen by men. Truly I say to you, they have their reward in full.” The issue is not public prayer, but performance. Just as with giving, the question is this: who is your audience? Are you playing to the crowd or to your Creator? You cannot serve someone while trying to impress them. Ministry that flows from insecurity or self-promotion becomes hollow. True service is rooted in a heart secure in God, seeking His pleasure above all.
Jesus goes on: “But you, when you pray, go into your inner room, close your door and pray to your Father who is in secret.” This is not a prohibition against public prayer but a call to cultivate private communion with God. There must be sacred space in our lives—quiet places where the distractions of the world are set aside. Solitude and silence are not accessories to the spiritual life; they are essentials. Jesus Himself modeled this, regularly withdrawing to desolate places to pray. His disciples, recognizing the centrality of this practice, asked Him, “Lord, teach us to pray.”
Prayer, at its core, is not about manipulating God or presenting a persuasive argument. It is not a transactional demand for blessings. Rather, it is an act of worship—a surrender of our will to His. In prayer, we realign our hearts, acknowledge our dependence, and learn to listen. We are invited to bring our needs before the Father, but not in the spirit of entitlement. Instead, we come humbly, trusting His wisdom and resting in His goodness.
This kind of prayer shapes us. It roots us in the voice of the Father, rather than the clamor of the world. Jesus was relentlessly criticized—for His background, His family, His associations, and even the source of His miracles. If He had allowed public opinion to define Him, He would have been crippled by insecurity. But He remained anchored in the Father’s affirmation. The same must be true of us. Only those who hear the Father’s voice with regularity will be secure enough to serve without seeking applause.
Discipleship, then, is not simply an exchange of information. It is a shared life. Teaching someone to pray is not about handing them a list or a formula—it is about walking with them, modeling intimacy with God, and inviting them into a journey of relational depth.
Prayer is not optional. It is the lifeblood of spiritual vitality. It is where we are transformed from the inside out. It is in the secret place—away from applause, distraction, and pretense—that we come to know God for who He is, and ourselves for who we are in Him.
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Questions for Reflection
- Whose approval am I seeking when I engage in spiritual practices like prayer, giving, or fasting—and how might that be shaping my motives?
- How can I create more intentional space in my daily life for private communion with God—free from distractions, noise, and the desire to be seen?
- In what ways do I struggle with presumption—putting off obedience or spiritual disciplines for a more “convenient” time—and how is the Spirit prompting me to respond now?
- Do I see prayer primarily as a means of asking God for things, or as a sacred opportunity to align my will with His and deepen my intimacy with Him?
