prone to wander
Hi friends, and happy Thursday! Tonight, I want to talk about prayer.
I’ve had these words tumbling around inside my mind for a few days now, but it took a while for me to sort through them. Truth be told, I think the Lord wanted me to wait for Him to answer a prayer of mine before I wrote to you.
So I waited. And He delivered.
Like He always does.
I find the whole process of prayer fascinating. Just think about it: each of us has direct access to the Creator of the Universe every time we seek it. All we have to do is reach out and there He is, listening attentively. Oftentimes it’s only during the act of prayer that we slow down enough to recognize His constant presence, His active engagement in our lives.
The other night as my oldest was saying her bedtime prayers, I invited her to picture our Father in Heaven sitting on the edge of her bed with His hand on her shoulder or maybe resting on the top of her head. This is often how I visualize God as I meet with Him in prayer. I imagine His eyes fixed on me, His presence warm and comforting. Everything about Him is the literal personification of the word invitation.
He is inviting me and you and all of His children back into His presence every time we pray.
The funny thing is that God doesn’t actually need us to pray—He knows us each intimately and individually even before we utter a single word. He knows the end from the beginning, and He’s aware of our every breath. So why does He ask us to pray? What’s the point?
The point is that while God might not need it, I certainly do. There’s a line I’ve always loved in the hymn “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing” that says:
Prone to wander Lord, I feel it,
prone to leave the God I love;
here’s my heart; O take and seal it;
seal it for Thy courts above.
We’re all prone to wander, so that’s why we’re called to pray.
To remember.
To reconnect.
To realign.
I don’t claim to fully understand the power of prayer; I feel as if I’m still barely scratching the surface of this miraculous connection. But I’ve experienced too many startlingly personal moments within those sacred conversations for me to stay quiet. He has given me lightning bolts of inspiration, direct and obvious like a flash against the night sky, as well as a lifetime of slow and gradual learning, like the steady rising of the sun.
Once again, I felt the absolute truth of it in my bones today: God is there and He is listening.
Actually, He’s doing much more than that—He’s on the move.
Our Father is more than capable of answering each prayer on His own, but instead He invites us, His children, to learn the family business. We are apprentices in the greatest work there is—God’s great work of bringing everyone home. So often we are the answer to someone’s urgent prayer. We are His hands and feet here on the earth. We get to be a part of something far bigger than ourselves.
So with that in mind, I’d like to ask you something: can I pray for you?
Are you struggling with a relationship? Has parenting been particularly challenging lately? Maybe your faith has taken a few hits or you aren’t sure what to believe anymore. Is your health deteriorating—physically, mentally, or emotionally? Are you feeling tired and worn down? Discouraged or lonely? Do you feel as if you’ve been forgotten? Or maybe it’s somebody you love: a child, a spouse, a sibling, or a friend who could use a little extra heavenly help.
If you’re feeling up to it, I’d love for you to write me back and tell me who or what I can pray for. If you’d like to tell me your story, I’d be honored to hear it. Or if you’d just like to send me the name of someone who needs a prayer, please send it my way.
I’d like to pull up a chair to your table and pass along any encouragement I can. I’d like to join my voice with yours as it carries your worries, hopes, and concerns. And I believe that as we turn outward our God will deliver the answers we need.
Like He always does.
So let’s pray together, my friends. Because there is power in remembering that you’re not alone. That you are seen and heard. That someone is praying with you and for you.
Your Father in Heaven is right there, sitting on the edge of your bed, just waiting for you to speak. There’s so much He wants to tell you, so much He wants you to experience.
And it all starts with a conversation. A quiet moment of communion.
