Honestly, I’ve never really understood prayer. Never been very good at it. While I know those saints who seem to excel at prayer probably say the same thing, I’m not one of those so-called-saints. I may legitimately be the worst “pray-er” on the planet.
But I digress…
When I was in my teens, I used to pray pretty consistently every morning. “Heal her. Fix this. Help me.” Then I started to wonder what God thought of those prayers.
Have you ever had that one friend who gets really into something like, say, fitness and it consumes her every conversation? You used to be able to relate when she talked and maybe even contribute something relevant in return, but now you just listen as she informs you of how much weight she has lost, and how her daily running routine is the best thing that ever happened to her, and how you really shouldn’t eat doughnuts because, seriously, they are sooo bad for you.
Once you have a handful of those conversations, you start to question your friendship. “Why am I still talking to this person? We have nothing in common anymore. Do I really want to hang out with someone who doesn’t believe in the goodness of doughnuts? Uh uh. No way. Gotta cut that toxic right out of my life.”
But seriously. I started to wonder if I ever become “that friend” to God. I pictured myself going through my daily routine of praying for this person and that person and, oh, don’t forget this situation, when God rolled His eyes like, “Here she goes again with that conversation we’ve had fifty times.”
That’s when I started praying less and trusting more. Because God knows. He heard me the first time. And the fifth. and the fiftieth. He knows my heart hasn’t changed. So really, what is the purpose of prayer?
I’ve struggled with this for years, and finally found a satisfactory answer within the pages of Kelly O’Dell Stanley’s Praying Upside Down.
Kelly compares prayer to baking a cake with her kids. While she admits she could work faster without them cluttering up her kitchen, she invites them to be part of the process because they find joy in it. They want to be part of it all—dumping and stirring and brushing flour from their hands—so that when the finished product finally comes out of the oven, they can feel like they were part of the miracle.
Likewise, prayer is for us. God invites us into His kitchen, not because He needs us there, but because He wants us there. He wants us to be part of the miracle. To have our cake and bake it, too. Because it grows our faith. It reveals to us the goodness of God.
We get a glimpse of His character when we ask for something and He delivers. And we get a glimpse of His character when we ask for something and He answers differently than we perhaps hoped or expected.
You know, maybe I’m not as bad at prayer as I imagined. Maybe I simply pray in unconventional ways.
In any case, I am thankful for a God who invites me into His kitchen, handles my presence with patience, and cleans up the messes these clumsy hands make.