The Wonder of Knowing Him…Part 2
Four gifts. One extraordinary God.
The extraordinary privilege of an ordinary conversation with God.
There was a time when I did not pray.
Not regularly. Not intentionally. Not in the way I understand prayer today.
I knew prayer was important. I knew Christians were supposed to pray.
But knowing something is important and actually wanting to do it—or knowing how—are very different things.
It seemed like another religious box to check that I didn't understand.
One of my spiritual mentors gave me a suggestion that changed my life.
Ask God to give you the desire to pray.
That was it.
Not a complicated prayer strategy. Not a new devotional plan. Not a schedule I had to follow.
Simply ask Him to give me the desire.
So I did.
Oh my goodness, did God answer that prayer.
Even Jesus Made Time to Pray
Recently, while reading Luke, I noticed something about Jesus.
Luke 5:16 tells us that He often withdrew to deserted places and prayed.
Often.
Think about everything happening around Him. Crowds were gathering. People needed healing. Others wanted to hear Him teach.
There was always something that needed His attention.
Yet Jesus regularly stepped away to pray.
He made room for conversation with His Father.
And this wasn't the only time.
Throughout the Gospels, we see Jesus praying before important decisions, during difficult circumstances, and in moments of gratitude.
If Jesus, the Son of God, continually made time to commune with His Father, how much more do I need that relationship?
But something else captured my attention.
Jesus didn't simply demonstrate the importance of prayer.
He taught us to call God our Father.
In Luke 11:2, when His disciples asked Him to teach them to pray, He began with one extraordinary word.
Father.
We Are His Children
I wonder if we fully appreciate what prayer actually is.
We have the privilege of coming before the Creator of the universe.
The One who laid the foundations of the earth.
The One who knows every star.
The One who knows us and even the number of hairs on our heads (Matthew 10:30).
And He invites us to come to Him.
In the book of Esther, approaching the king without being summoned could cost a person their life.
But through Jesus, we have been given access to our heavenly Father.
Hebrews 4:16 invites us to come boldly to the throne of grace, where we can receive mercy and find grace when we need it most.
We are not unwelcome visitors.
Through Christ, we have been welcomed into God's family.
We are His children.
And He wants us to come.
I think about this from the perspective of a parent.
I have raised children, including 23 I have welcomed into my home over the years.
And I cannot imagine wanting any of them to believe they had to earn the right to come to me.
I want them to come when they're happy.
I want them to come when they're hurting.
When they've made a mistake. When they're confused. When they're afraid. When they have something wonderful to share.
Even when they've done something they know I won't like.
I don't want them to stay away because they're afraid of my response.
I want them to know they can come because they are loved.
And I wonder how often we forget that our heavenly Father welcomes us with a love far greater than anything we could offer our own children.
What an extraordinary privilege.
Learning to Talk About Everything
When I first began developing a life of prayer, I had to learn that I could talk to God about ordinary things.
Not just emergencies.
Not just the big decisions.
Everything.
There was a season when money was very tight. I needed God's provision, and during that time I began learning to ask Him about my purchases.
Even the small ones.
I remember wanting to stop for coffee and feeling that I really could not afford it.
As I prayed, I sensed the freedom to enjoy the coffee. I felt He wanted to give me something I desired.
Another time, I wanted cottage cheese.
I felt I should leave it at the store.
Three days later, a friend arrived with a bag of groceries.
And there it was.
Cottage cheese.
I smiled.
God used coffee and cottage cheese to teach me about asking Him specific questions and then waiting for an answer.
Would it have mattered if I had heard wrong and didn't buy the coffee or bought the cottage cheese?
Probably not.
But I was learning to listen in places where the consequences were small.
And learning to trust Him at the same time.
Those little experiences taught me something about dependence.
I was learning to include Him in the ordinary moments of my day.
And I was discovering that I did not have to wait for a crisis to talk to my Father.
He wanted to be included in all areas of my life.
Sometimes I Talk. Sometimes I Listen.
Prayer has become one of my favorite parts of life.
I love to pray while walking. I can move, enjoy the outdoors, and turn my attention toward God.
Sometimes I sit in a chair.
Sometimes I write in my journal.
Sometimes I have a great deal to say.
And sometimes I have nothing to say at all.
Sometimes I sense He has a great deal to say.
And sometimes I don't hear anything at all.
There are days when I bring Him my gratitude and joy.
There are days when I bring Him my frustration, disappointment, and questions.
I have learned that I do not have to clean up my emotions before coming to Him.
He already knows what is in my heart.
But I also want to listen.
I often begin journaling by asking, "Lord, what do You want to tell me today?"
Then I write what comes to mind.
I do not assume that everything I write is a message from God. I return to Scripture, examine what I have written against what I know of His character and His Word, and ask Him to help me recognize what is true.
I am still learning and will be all my days on this earth.
And I am grateful that I do not have to hear Him perfectly to be welcomed into His presence.
Making Room for the One I Love
There have been seasons when prayer seemed to flow naturally throughout my day.
And seasons when I allowed other responsibilities to crowd out the intentional time I once treasured.
I still prayed.
I still talked to Him throughout the day.
But the dedicated time I once protected gradually became something I tried to fit around everything else.
Responsibilities grew.
Schedules changed.
There were people to love, babies to care for, places to go, and things that needed to be done.
And somewhere along the way, I stopped protecting that time.
It wasn't that God had become less important to me.
But my choices weren't always reflecting the importance I said He held.
Then I think about Jesus.
The crowds. The demands. The needs that never seemed to end.
And Luke tells us He often withdrew to pray.
Not because He had nothing else to do.
But because communion with His Father mattered.
I am learning that prayer is not another responsibility competing for my attention.
It is a relationship worth making room for.
A Gift I Can Open Every Day
As we consider the things for which we are grateful this November, I want to encourage you to think about prayer differently.
It is not simply something we should do.
It is something we have been invited to do.
We can bring our worries, our questions, our gratitude, and our ordinary everyday lives before the One who knows us completely.
We can ask for wisdom.
We can confess our sins.
We can sit quietly in His presence.
And we can keep coming back.
I am grateful that God gave me the desire to pray.
I am grateful for the years He has spent teaching me to depend on Him.
And I am especially grateful that He continues to welcome me, whether I come with a heart full of praise, a thousand questions, or nothing to say at all.
What once felt like a religious box to check became a relationship I cannot imagine living without.
What an extraordinary gift.
The Creator of the universe wants to hear from me.
And He wants to hear from you, too.