Closer Than We Think

"....Your prayers need not be labored or lengthy or grandiose—for Your Father knows what you need before you ever ask Him." (Matthew 6:8, The Voice)

Simply by the way He lived, Jesus' prayer life seemed to be uncontained, varied, and not what people expected. His example to us is that while all the "how to" books on prayer may be helpful, there is no one way to package what really matters: nurturing conversational relationship with the One who made us and everything else. And while there is certainly an important place for focused intercession that may go on for hours, there's a form of prayer that doesn't get enough credit for its power—the ones we lift Up that are really short.

I remember a visiting preacher telling the story of getting to have lunch with a highly esteemed man of God, known for wisdom that had to have come only from spending prolonged periods of time absorbing the red-letter words of Jesus and sitting in deep prayer and reflection. The preacher couldn't wait to get an up-close glimpse of this brother's insights into the secrets of the Kingdom and how to live it out practically in the day-to-day. When the lunch arrived, it was time to pray over the meal, and the preacher didn't quite know what to think when the esteemed man of God paused, then took a deep breath through his nose and simply said:

"Gawwwwwd! Amen."

And that was that. The preacher said that rather than a sense of irreverence, there was something contagious in the air around that table, of the joy and unexplainable power that happens when men and women breathe in and out with God throughout their day. Their life becomes a sermon because their hearts are full, and quite often, the words are few and with the simplicity of a child who loves hanging out with his Father.

I came home from work one day this week after spending the previous 24 hours away because of a March blizzard, and knew I'd be greeted by a driveway in need of snowblowing. Four-fifths of the way through, the auger belt gave in to the heavy crunch near the road, and instead of getting to go inside home sweet home, I wound up shoveling the rest of it and getting reacquainted with muscles and movements I hadn't experienced for awhile. In which case, you pause often. And in doing so, a surge of simple gratitude began to strangely well up within:

First, the sun was out, it wasn't snowing, and its warmth was cutting through the cold wind. This white stuff will not last... Looking up, the buds on the lilac bushes and maples were beginning to swell...A replay of good memories of kiddos-now-adults playing in the front yard flashed before me...A smile as I thought of the blessing of great colleagues at work, even when the hours can be long...The arrival of a friend who went out of his way on his way home to help assess the damage to the snowblower's innards and arrange to get the right part at the shop where he worked...And once finally inside, the wave of warmth that erased concerns that the power had gone out during the storm.

As Jesus showed time and again, He is always present in the routine, and sometimes seemingly more so in the midst of the chaos and storms of life. In fact on one occasion, He simply "showed up" with just three little words. Following His lead, it's good to remember that keeping it short can yield pretty powerful results when it comes from the heart of relationship:

As I was about to take my first bite of dinner after finally getting inside from shoveling and pausing—a growling empty stomach full of simple gratitude—I found myself saying the simple grace my son would often recite before every meal: "Thank You, Lord, for this beautiful supper and this beautiful day. Amen." Short and sweet. That seemed to say it all and say it best... and with it, a flood of peace in the midst of the storm.

It's a new week. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and let all that is within me (and all who pass by here) remember that it's good and perfectly OK to simply and regularly pray..."Gawwwwwwd!"

"Lift up your hearts to Him, sometimes even at your meals, and when you are in company; the least little remembrance will always be acceptable to Him. You need not cry very loud;

He is nearer to us than we are aware."

(Brother Lawrence, 'The Practice of the Presence of God')