Praying is easy, right? Not really, but that’s only because we make it hard. I should know. I’m a lifelong prayer wimp. I become distracted when I pray, lose my focus. My mind wanders. I imagine that more than a few of you have experienced the same thing.
Yet we aren’t the first to struggle with prayer, not by a long shot. The sign-up sheet for Prayer 101 includes some familiar names: the apostles John, James, Andrew and Peter. When one of Jesus’ disciples said, “Lord, teach us to pray,” none of the others objected.
It shouldn’t be so difficult. Prayer is simply a heartfelt conversation between God and his child. Resist the urge to complicate it. Don’t take pride in well-crafted prayers. Don’t apologize for incoherent ones. Just be honest—honest to God. Climb into his lap. Tell him everything that is going on.
Begin with an honest “Oh, Daddy.”
When my eldest daughter was 13 years old, she flubbed her piano piece at a recital. Everyone has an off day. Jenna just happened to have hers in front of an auditorium crowded with family and friends. The performance started well. Her fingers flowed up and down the keyboard. But midway through, her musical train jumped the track.
I can still see her staring straight ahead, fingers stuck as if in superglue. She backed up a few measures and took another run at it. No luck. For the life of her she couldn’t remember the next part.
Finally Jenna’s mental block broke, and she completed the piece. But the damage had been done. She stood up from the piano bench, chin quivering, and curtsied. The audience offered sympathetic applause. She hurried off the stage. My wife, Denalyn, and I jumped out of our seats and met her at the side of the auditorium. She threw her arms around me and buried her face in my shirt, crying, “Oh, Daddy.”
Jesus taught us to begin our prayers by saying, “Our Father in heaven.” More specifically, our Abba in heaven. Abba is an intimate, tender, folksy term, the warmest of the Aramaic words for “father.” Jesus invites us to approach God the way a child approaches his or her daddy.
Tell him your troubles.
An unprayed-for problem is an embedded thorn. It festers and infects—first the finger, then the hand, then the entire arm. Best to go straight to the One who has the tweezers.
Jenna was born when Denalyn and I were living in Rio de Janeiro. Soon after we brought her home from the hospital, we received a surprise. A hefty hospital bill. Our stateside insurance company refused to pay the charges. No matter how much I pleaded, explained, or cajoled, the insurance company said, “We won’t pay.” The hospital, meanwhile, said, “You must pay.”
The bill was for $2,500. I checked our account. We had a grand total of $2,500. We paid the bill, but we were broke as a result.
I was still learning about trust. Several verses had become promises to me, among them “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God” (Philippians 4:6).
I treated each anxious thought—and there were many—with prayer. Lord, with your help I will not be anxious. But I am in a foreign country with a new baby and an empty bank account.
A speaking invitation happened to come my way. A church flew me to Florida to speak at a retreat. It was the only such opportunity that arose during our five years in Rio. As I was leaving the church to return to the airport, a gentleman handed me an envelope. I thanked him and tucked the envelope into my pocket, assuming it was a modest honorarium.
Inside was a check for $2,500, exactly what we needed. That event was a milestone moment for me. God keeps his word. I just need to ask. And trust.
Confess the worst.
Is guilt having its way with you? If so, consider this promise: “No matter how deep the stain of your sins, I can take it out and make you as clean as freshly fallen snow” (Isaiah 1:18). God specializes in guilt removal.
Understand that God uses guilt the way highway engineers use rumble strips. When we swerve off track, they give us a sharp, quick reminder: Stay in your lane. Guilt alerts us to the discrepancies between what we are and what God desires. It stirs repentance and renewal. In appropriate doses guilt is a blessing. In unmonitored dosages, however, guilt is an unbearable burden. We can overdose on it.
Give God your guilt. Be concrete in confession. You’re tempted to say, “Lord, forgive me. I am a louse.” But that doesn’t work. For one thing, you are not a louse; you are God’s chosen child and he loves you.
For another, healing happens when the wound is exposed to the atmosphere of grace. Exactly what is it that you need forgiveness for? For being a bad person? That is too general. For losing your patience in the business meeting and calling your coworker a creep? There, you can confess that.
Tell guilt where to get off. And for heaven’s sake, stop tormenting yourself. We live in a guilt-laden world. But you can be part of the population that has discovered the grace of God.
Give thanks.
In Scripture the idea of giving thanks is not a suggestion or a recommendation. It is a command. It carries the same weight as “love your neighbor” and “give to the poor.” More than a hundred times, either by imperative or by example, the Bible commands us to be thankful. If quantity implies gravity, God takes thanksgiving seriously.
Ingratitude is the original sin. Adam and Eve had a million reasons to give thanks. The waterfalls and fowl, shorelines and sunsets. God found Eden so delightful, he strolled through it in the cool of the day. Adam and Eve found the garden so safe, they wore no clothing. They had nothing to hide and no one to hide from. They dwelled in a perfect world.
Then came the snake. He raised a question about the forbidden tree in the middle of the garden. “Eat it,” he hissed, “and you will be like God.” Just like that, Eden was not enough.
But what if gratitude had won the day? Suppose an unbedazzled Adam and Eve had scoffed at the snake’s suggestion instead of following it. “Are you kidding? Have you seen this place? Strawberry patches. Melon fields. Orange groves. Blueberry bushes. Let us take you on a tour, snake.”
Had they chosen gratitude, would the world be different? If you choose gratitude, will your world be different?
Ask for healing.
For two years now I have been asking God to remove the pain I have in my writing arm.
Even as I write these words, I can feel stiffness in my thumb and fingers, and all the way to my shoulder. The doctors chalk it up to the more than 30 books I have written in longhand. Over the decades, the repeated motion has restricted my movement, rendering the simplest of tasks—like writing a sentence on a sheet of paper—difficult.
So I do my part. I stretch my fingers. A therapist massages the muscles. I avoid the golf course. I even go to yoga. Most of all I pray.
Better said, I argue. Shouldn’t God heal my hand? My pen is my tool. Writing is my mission. So far he hasn’t healed me.
Or has he? These days I pray more as I write. Not eloquent prayers but honest, straightforward ones. Lord, I need help….Father, my hand is stiff. The discomfort humbles me. I’m not Max, the author. I am Max, the guy whose hand is wearing out. I want God to heal my hand. Thus far he has used my hand to heal my spirit, making me more compassionate and understanding the more I write.
He will heal you, my friend. I pray he heals you instantly. He may choose to heal you gradually. But this much is sure: Jesus will heal us all ultimately. Wheelchairs, ointments, treatments and bandages are confiscated at the gateway to heaven. God’s children will once again be whole.
And we begin that process here on earth with prayer. Simple, honest, heartfelt prayer. It’s not that hard.
Download your FREE ebook, A Prayer for Every Need, by Dr. Norman Vincent Peale.
