Prayer is boring.
Necessary, but boring. Or so I once thought. Even after I became a committed follower of Jesus Christ. Even after I finished ministry training and began pastoring a small church.
I believed it was important–a necessary part of the Christian life, and a key part of my calling. I just didn’t do it, other than grace at mealtimes and during corporate worship.
And yes, from time to time, I would become convicted and commit myself to waking early and praying for a half hour, at least (for some reason, thirty minutes seemed the minimum length of a “good” prayer session). But those spurts of prayerfulness were always a drudgery, and thus very short-lived.
But that changed. Slowly, but drastically.
It started with desperation. I was burdened for my teenage son. My wife and I thought we were losing him–in terms of faith, the church, our family. I was at my wit’s end (always a good place to start praying).
I booked a weekend at a retreat center an hour or so from my house. I took nothing with me except my Bible. I planned to force myself to pray, if only out of boredom (“constructive boredom,” I’ve since called it).
For the next 48 hours, I prayed for my son. I prayed the fruits of the Spirit for him. I prayed psalms for him. I prayed the Jesus Prayer (“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of David, have mercy on me”) for him.
I prayed in the chapel on the grounds. I prayed while I ate, while walking in the woods, as I rocked on the retreat house porch. I prayed in bed. I sang my prayers. I wrote my prayers in a journal. I wrote them in the dirt with a stick.
I learned that weekend that much of my prayerlessness was related to my limited definitions and sorry experience. I learned that there are a thousand ways to pray.
Like Enoch, who “walked with God” (Genesis 5:24, KJV). Like Sarai, who laughed, though she didn’t know God was listening (Genesis 18:12). Like Joshua’s army, who shouted and blew trumpets (Joshua 6:16). Like Daniel, who opened a window toward Jerusalem and knelt to pray (Daniel 6:10).
God answered my prayers for my son, in amazing and beautiful ways. And he has answered many since. Thousands. In a thousand different ways, all of which I hope to share on this blog–and I hope you’ll come along, and share your own adventures (and even misadventures) in prayer.
