"Continue in prayer, and watch in the same with thanksgiving" (Colossians 4:2). Hear how Paul wrote these words, not from a place of ease, but from a Roman prison, his hands bound in chains. From that dark cell the apostle did not bid the saints at Colosse to seek comfort or to ease their souls; he commanded them to PRAY — to continue, to persevere, to hold fast at the throne of grace and not let go. The word "continue" carries the force of a man clinging to something he will not surrender. This is no idle whisper before sleep, no hurried mumbling at the close of a busy day. It is the cry of a heart that will tarry until heaven answers, watching all the while with thanksgiving on its lips.
Beloved, we live in an hour when prayer has grown shallow and the altar gathers dust. Men want the blessing without the burden, the power without the pleading. But the Holy Ghost does not fall on the careless or the casual. Remember the hundred and twenty in the upper room — they "continued with one accord in prayer and supplication" (Acts 1:14), and they did not rise from their knees until the sound of a rushing mighty wind filled the house and cloven tongues of fire sat upon every head. They tarried as Jesus charged them: "tarry ye in the city of Jerusalem, until ye be endued with power from on high" (Luke 24:49). That same fire is for you. But it falls on those who wait, who watch, who will not be denied.
To continue in prayer is to enter the school of sanctification. There, on your knees, the Spirit of God searches the deep places of the heart and lays bare the carnal nature that the new birth alone does not destroy. As you tarry, the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses you from all sin (1 John 1:7), purging the root of inbred sin and making the heart pure. This is the second definite work of grace — a clean heart, a holy life, power to walk free from the dominion of sin. You cannot rush this work. It is wrought in the place of travail, where the soul groans and consecrates and dies to self, and the sanctifying flame burns away the dross.
And watch! Paul joins watching to praying, for the praying saint must keep his eyes open against the enemy of his soul. We watch against the world that would draw us back, against the flesh that would lull us to sleep, against the devil who prowls as a roaring lion. The fear of God keeps the watchman alert; he knows he stands before a holy God who will not be mocked. Separation from the world is not bondage — it is the watchfulness of a soul that loves the Lord too well to flirt with sin. "Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation" (Matthew 26:41), for the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.
So come to the altar tonight and do not leave it quickly. Pour out your heart. Confess every known sin, repent, and consecrate yourself wholly upon the altar of God. Tarry until the fire falls — until the Holy Ghost fills you, until tongues of fire loose your tongue to magnify God, until the power from on high clothes you for holy service. Do not settle for a form of godliness while denying the power thereof. The God who answered in the upper room has not changed; He is still pouring out His Spirit upon hungry, waiting hearts.
And watch, for the night is far spent and the day is at hand. The Lord is coming soon, suddenly, in power and great glory, to gather a Bride without spot or wrinkle. Blessed is that servant whom his Lord, when He cometh, shall find watching (Luke 12:37). Let the fire of the Holy Ghost so possess you that you live ready, pure, and full — looking up, for your redemption draweth nigh. Continue in prayer. Watch. Give thanks. And the fire WILL fall.
"Continue in prayer, and watch in the same with thanksgiving."
— Colossians 4:2