have you prayed?

A couple of weeks ago, I was chatting with a friend over a steaming cup of coffee about something that I wanted to get better at. 

this whole thing called prayer. the prayer from the mountians praising him for the goodness. the prayer from the mud where we start begging to see him. 

Prayer helps us to see what is going on. 

I know that I’m not the only person that says “hey, I’ll pray for you.” 

and then I forget. 

I love the early mornings, where I get up and make a coffee. I sit in my favourite spot in my dorm – the corner seat by my plants where the light shines in, in the morning. I grab my journal and I spend some time with Jesus before starting my day. These are some of my favourite moments in the day. But in that time spent with a Jesus, I don’t spend a lot of it praying. I journal and read my bible and think about what he’s trying to teach me in that season, but I often forget to pray. 

I started carrying around a piece of paper in my back pocket with a list of prayer requests on it. Whenever I pull it out, I pray for those on the list. It’s a physical reminder to pray – because I’m human, and I fall short. I mess up, and I forget. 

He still wants to hear our prayers. Paper prayers and prayers whispered into the silence of the morning. 

I want to get better at prayer. A couple of days ago, a big decision regarding the next couple months was dropped into my lap. (well into my inbox) 

I wish that somebody would tell me which job to take. I wish that it would be made clear, which one I should take. 

Both are good jobs. 

Every person that I’ve talked to about this decision – hoping deep down that they will tell me which job I should take says the following. 

“Have you prayed about it?” 

And it feels like the air is knocked out of my lungs. I’m trying. I’m trying to pray about it, but I catch myself forming words to make this prayer sound good. I know I’m not praying about it as much as I should be, and when I am – I’m crafting the sentences to sound really good when I talk to my Father. 

I’m an English major. I spend my days crafting beautiful sentences. Choosing the right words to fit in perfectly next to other words. 

Jesus doesn’t ask for that. He doesn’t ask for the perfect grammar or the beautifully crafted sentence. 

He’s asking for prayer. For communication. 

“Jesus, I need you to step in. Show me.” 

It’s a simple prayer. 

I’m learning – I’m never not learning. I’m learning that prayer is a constant communication between me and my Father. Both in the mud and the mountains. 

It’s where my humanness really shows up. The reminder that I need Him. More than I think I do. Way more than I think I do. 

There are people in my life that I consider to be prayer warriors. These people have been in the battle, and they’ve come out the other side knowing what it takes to have prayer on your lips at all time. 

I want that – to be in constant communication with my Father. The world gets in the way, time and time again. Netflix. Social media. Things that waste my time. 

It’s about putting these things aside and coming back to him. Time and time again. Morning after morning. Afternoon after afternoon. Evening after evening. Day after day. 

Putting the work in. Fighting the battle to come out the other side knowing that I’m learning how to pray. To be in constant communication with him. 

This all being said, I know I’ll fall short. I’ll forget to pray. But He’s still listening. Waiting for my voice to pierce through the silence of the everyday. 

njl

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joy soaked words

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