This morning, I was sitting in front of my warm fire, contemplating how to pray for a situation that deeply affected my family and me. I began to question the Lord about the somewhat futility of my prayers. My conversation was brief and poignant, to say the least, as it reached into the recesses of my mind and heart.
"Lord," I said as I always seem to begin my conversations with Him, 'do my prayers take flight on wings soaring into the heavens straight to your hearing ears? Or do they hit the floor like a hard rock? It seems that so often they fall,
rolling off my lips, hitting the floor with a thud, no longer to be heard by the Father. They take up space in my early morning time with you. Sometimes, they begin to take flight but are pushed around the room with a faint gust of air that passes through the room from the furnace. I can feel they have lost their lift as they try to rise to the throne of grace. My only task for the morning is to receive an answer for this prayer, but in its pursuit to be heard by the Father, it seems empty & without life.'
Praying, at times, seems like a futile exercise that I do every day, in which I am trying to be proper and walk in obedience to the Word. You know the scriptures that have been stored deep inside our hearts. For example, "Pray without ceasing, or let your prayers be made known….". I have given proclamations to others to tell them how they should pray.
Then, the Lord gently reminded me that I have a prayer partner filled with insight, wisdom, understanding, and knowledge. "This partner," He said, "would be a wonderful person to invite to your morning prayer time." But then my thoughts wandered to a place of self-reliance and pride, which says, 'Maybe I should do this on my own.' Because I don't want to appear weak or even step into a place where I would have to rely on someone else to get the prayer done right, then and only then am I faced with a dilemma to challenge myself with questions or mindlessly step out in faith.
So, the questions begin to bombard my thoughts.
- Do I dare ask?
- Am I willing to ask?
- Do I put myself out there to trust with that feeling of vulnerability?
Then I say, 'I will try to keep praying on my own.' But with this seemingly tiny bit of 'knowledge,' I find it creates an ineffective and unending exertion of energy. Why would I keep trying to get an answer to my prayer when, in fact, I don't even know if it is the proper prayer that I need to be praying at this time? What prayer track am I supposed to be on?
Once again, I am at a crossroads as I watch the picture unfold before me. My prayers are falling like rocks, hitting the floor, and rolling off into the corner of the abyss of my living room. Or they seem to be taking a flying leap into the air but are blown away by a brisk puff of air. I then ask myself questions that bring me face-to-face with the reality of prayer and partnering with the Holy Spirit.
- What if I stopped long enough before I opened my mouth in prayer to talk with the Holy Spirit?
- What if I asked Him how He wanted me to pray?
- What if I chose Him as my prayer partner, allowing Him to speak and take the lead?
- Would my prayers be lifted to the heart of the Father who loves to hear my prayers?
- Would I then stop hearing the tumbling of the rock prayers hit the floor?
- Would I then feel the weight lifted off my shoulders when trying to pray the proper prayer?
- Would it then end the pursuit of trying to find an answer?
I say to myself, "You must agree that all of the burden of how to pray would fly off your shoulders, allowing the Lord to infiltrate your prayer life. You would join the Holy Spirit in perfect union and agreement."
WHAT IF I JUST ASK?