“True prayer is neither a mere mental exercise nor a vocal performance. It is far deeper than that – it is spiritual transaction with the Creator of Heaven and Earth.” ~ Charles Spurgeon
For many years, I was a student of prayer. With every new book about prayer that was published, I visited the library to check it out or hurried into Borders with my coupons.
Then I was blessed with two mentors who taught me even more about the beauty and power of connecting with God in prayer. And finally, I became a how-to-pray teacher myself. The privilege of praying for others became one of my highest honors.
Yet – even now – prayer can be a mystery. How is it that this incredible God of the universe delights in hearing from us mere humans?
It is because we are his children and so beloved that he desires to communicate with us – to listen and to speak with us.
But now, because of the stress burden, I have found myself hobbling along in prayer. Sometimes all I can do is whisper, “Help me, Jesus.”
Where once I prayed long petitions for others and pleaded with God to meet their needs, now I simply cannot. Too much exhaling has left me with no divine breath.
Spiritually – yes, I am okay. Actually, I am more aware of God’s presence in the daily doings of life. I just have nothing left to give to anyone else. Nor can I intercede with long pathos for other pilgrims.
This change saddened me until I read an encouragement from my latest favorite book. In “The Listening Life,” Adam McHugh writes, “I have grown more restrained in my speech to God. I have come to see prayer more as a way of being with God and less as an opportunity to talk.”
The mystery continues even as recovery progresses. It is well with my soul because that inner sacred space is not dependent on how I can pray.
Rather, prayer is another example of God’s abundant grace wrapped in hope.
God knows who I am and how I am. My connection with him whether in prayer or inhaling his nearness brings spiritual wholeness.
How I pray is not as important as who I love – the divine One who loved me first.