In the past I haven’t had the best mindset toward prayer. I thought that if I sent up enough bullets of prayer maybe one would hit the mark and I’d get an answer. The whole idea of prayer seemed abstract and bizarre. When I started asking people how to pray the answers I received would often be varied or contradictory.
“Pray to God as though you’re talking on the phone, He just wants to hear your thoughts.”
“Be respectful, you’re talking to the creator of the world. He’s not just some casual friend.”
“Don’t be self-centered in your prayers, pray for others first, then maybe yourself.”
“Tell God all your needs, He desires to know your heart, even though He already knows everything.”
I had no idea what was expected of me and as a result I wasn’t a huge pray-er. I didn’t want to do something wrong and was very hesitant to dive into prayer.
Coming on this trip, I prayed one big prayer. “Change my heart God. Make me like you!” It was said with passion, some doubt, and a bit of ignorance. In Guatemala, He started the work of breaking down walls in my heart. During seasons of brokenness, I was forced to live close to Him if I wanted joy or peace that day. After realizing the effect of allowing God’s power to work through me, I didn’t want to go a day without it.
He faithfully answered my prayers of wanting to see and know Him. I was surprised at how fully and quickly He answered my prayer.
In Thailand, I started reading a booklet by Andrew Murray called, “Lord, Teach Us How to Pray.” That became my heart’s cry. I asked God to teach me how to pray according to His will. I didn’t want to pray based off the teachings of others. I desired to pray powerfully; to pray with faith that heals, touches others, and connects directly with God. I desired a close intimacy with the Father’s heart. No fluff. No nonsense. Pure authenticity. I wanted God to teach me true, biblical prayer directly from His heart.
He answered.
It just didn’t start how I envisioned.
Around the time I started asking to be taught how to pray, I fasted alongside my church in the States to pray for healing for a young mom in our church. I prayed, believing that God would answer my prayer. I had faith. I fasted and prayed. She was going to be healed.
Only, she wasn’t and it destroyed me.
One night I climbed onto the roof at the farm, laid on the concrete, watched the sunset, and bawled my eyes out. My body shook and I couldn’t stop.
I was furious with God. Not just upset or angry, legitimately furious.
I struggled with the purpose of prayer. Was it some huge joke? I used to think that one of the main reasons we pray is because it strengthens our faith and draws us closer to Him. I didn’t feel that. I felt betrayed and as if He had given me false hope.
I doubted my prayers had any power. I was done. I struggled with ever wanting to pray again. I’d follow God, but avoid talking to Him. Just read the Bible, worship, and go to church. End of story.
Then I had the bright idea of looking up every single reference to prayer in my Bible.
Twenty-five verses telling me to pray.
So I prayed. Bluntly and hesitatingly. I told him I didn’t want to pray and I tossed my hard questions about prayer before Him. A lot of my prayer time I spent just sitting because I didn’t have words and I was done making my prayers sound spiritual.
Did He give me answers to all my questions about prayer? For the most part, no.
As time went on, my heart softened and my angry cries for answers turned to passionate requests to know and understand my Father and His ways.
Now, prayer brings life to my soul. It creates a deep intimacy and understanding in my relationship with God. As He reveals the fatherliness of His heart towards me, I am drawn closer to him. He is my Dad and that’s how He wants me to relate to Him in prayer.
He wants me to have bold audacity in the things I ask for. To be humble and leave all pride behind at the foot of the cross. To listen to His spirit inside me and pray in accordance to His will. To rest in the knowledge and truth of His steadfast love and trust Him to answer my prayers. He’s a good Father.
