Richard Baxter in 1691 prayed a prayer that has echoed through the centuries because it touches one of the deepest needs of the human heart – the longing for peace when life feels uncertain.
As he approached the end of his life, Baxter prayed:
‘Lord, what Thou wilt, where Thou wilt, and when Thou wilt.’
In today’s language we might say:
‘Lord, what you want, where you want, and when you want.’
And I would add:
‘Because you know best.’
Simple words. Profound trust.
Baxter was one of the great Christian pastors and writers of the seventeenth century. He lived through civil war, political upheaval, persecution, imprisonment and prolonged illness. For much of his life he struggled physically and often believed death was near. Yet suffering did not make him bitter. It made him wiser, gentler and more compassionate.
Some people are broken by pain. Others are deepened by it. Baxter was deepened by it. He served faithfully in the English town of Kidderminster and became known not only for his brilliant mind but for his pastoral heart. He cared deeply for people because he knew what it meant to suffer.
We live in a world obsessed with control. We try to control our schedules, our finances, our futures, our health, our children, our careers and even our public image. We carry phones that can tell us tomorrow’s weather and today’s headlines. Yet for all our technology and planning, life remains gloriously unpredictable.
One phone call can change everything. One diagnosis. One accident. One conversation. One opportunity.
The truth is, we are not in control. And deep down, we know it. That is why Baxter’s prayer feels so refreshing.
The first prayer: ‘Lord, what Thou wilt . . .’ Or in modern English: ‘Lord, what you want . . .’
That is surrendering our plans. Most of us prefer to hand God our agenda and ask him to bless it. ‘Lord, here is my carefully organised five-year plan. If you could simply approve it, that would be marvellous.’
But Christianity is not about persuading God to follow our plans. It is about learning to trust his. Jesus himself prayed, ‘Not my will, but yours be done’ (Luke 22:42 NIV).
Real faith says, ‘God, I trust your wisdom more than my preferences.’ And that is not easy. We all enjoy God’s will when it agrees with ours. The real test comes when it does not.
The second prayer: ‘Where Thou wilt . . .’ Or: ‘Where you want . . .’
That is surrendering our comfort. God sometimes leads us into places we would never have chosen ourselves. Sometimes physically. Sometimes emotionally. Sometimes spiritually.
Moses had the wilderness.
Joseph had prison.
Daniel had Babylon.
Ruth had bereavement.
Hannah had years of unanswered prayer.
Paul had shipwrecks.
The Christian life is not a promise of comfort. It is a promise of God’s presence. And often the places we resist most become the places where we grow most. Even trees grow stronger because of the wind against them.
The third prayer: ‘When Thou wilt . . .’ Or: ‘When you want . . .’
That is surrendering our timing. Ah yes – timing.
We want instant answers, instant healing, instant solutions, instant success. We live in an age of fast food, same-day delivery, and irritation if a webpage takes longer than five seconds to appear. But God is rarely in a hurry.
We say, ‘Lord, now would be ideal.’ God says, ‘Trust Me.’ Some prayers are answered quickly. Others slowly. Some differently. Some in ways we only understand years later.
Waiting is one of the hardest classrooms of faith.
When God wants to make a mushroom he takes twenty-four hours. When he wants to make an oak tree he takes five years for it to just become well established. He takes thirty years for it to become mature. Too many of us want microwave spirituality while God is growing oak trees.
And then comes the quiet confidence beneath Baxter’s prayer: ‘Because you know best.’ That changes everything. It reminds us that God sees what we cannot see. We look at life through a keyhole but God sees the whole house. The older I get, the more I realise that some of God’s greatest answers to my prayers were actually his refusals. There are doors I once begged God to open that I now thank him for keeping firmly shut.
Baxter’s prayer is not merely preparation for death. It is preparation for life. Because surrendered people are peaceful people. Not pain-free. Not problem-free. But peaceful.
Baxter also said near the end of his life, ‘I have pain, but I have peace.’ What a remarkable testimony.
Our world is full of people who have success but no peace.
Money but no peace.
Popularity but no peace.
Comfort but no peace.
Jesus offers something deeper.
Peace in uncertainty.
Peace in suffering.
Peace in unanswered questions.
Perhaps that is why this centuries-old prayer still feels so alive today. Because every human heart longs for peace. Real peace does not come from controlling everything. It comes from trusting the One who lovingly holds everything in his hands.
So perhaps today we too might quietly pray:
‘Lord, what you want,
where you want,
and when you want . . .
because you know best.’
That is not losing control.
That is finding confidence in the God who never loses control.
Grace and peace,
J.John
