Tag Archives: prayer

472. That Time I Got Saved

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I’ve written about many of the strange events in my life, from an awkward stage kiss to a severed human arm, but not until now of the day I committed my soul to God. It was… I don’t remember what kind of day it was. It was probably muggy and overcast. I was indoors at the time, standing in line, waiting for a meal that was, in retrospect, soggy and terrible.

I speak of That Time I Got Saved, a tale of grace and burgers.

(For full effect, you must read the title of this story with a Southern Baptist drawl: “That Time Ah Gawt Saaaved.”)

Unlike some of my other That Time I _____ stories, this one isn’t all that exotic or sensational. Heck, it doesn’t even make for a compelling testimony. I got saved while standing in line for a nasty hamburger.

This happened nearly twenty years ago in French Burger, a sketchy fast food joint. For all I know, it’s still open for business. (I really hope it isn’t.) French Burger served beef patties on cheap buns soaked in some kind of milky fluid: probably mayonnaise diluted by the moisture from wet shredded lettuce. These mushy burgers were served in little mustard-colored plastic bags. The burger juice would collect at the bottom of the bag, along with stray wisps of lettuce and shreds of soggy bun. The horror! The horror!

A photo of the food from French Burger would have been too graphic, so I replaced it with a picture of some pretty flowers. I’ve got to keep this blog family-friendly!

French Burger was tucked in a corner of a parking lot in Santo Domingo de los Colorados, a city built to the west of the Andes Mountains in Ecuador. My family and I spent about four years there. My memories of Santo Domingo are few and faint, but I recall gloomy impressions of mud, concrete, overcast weather, and weeds.

Understandably, I spent much of that time indoors: watching VHS tapes of old cartoons, building with Legos, playing and replaying games on our Super Nintendo Entertainment System, dodging home school assignments, learning to read—subsequently reading with voracious interest—and trying to write a novel. (Spoilers: I quit after two paragraphs.) It was a formative time. I discovered Nintendo, J.R.R. Tolkien, Star Wars, C.S. Lewis, and coffee.

I did occasionally venture forth into the community: picking up fragments of Spanish, pestering the neighbors, riding my bike, and buying bread from the local shops. My family and I made regular visits to a local river, where I encountered a Giant Mutant Killer Jungle Ant. We also visited nearby restaurants, such as a French Burger and Kentucky Fried Chicken. (KFC is weirdly popular in Ecuador.)

Oh, Santo Domingo de los Colorados. I… don’t really miss you, actually.

It was during a visit to French Burger that I found myself waiting in line, and committed my soul to God. I could joke that I got saved just in case I died of my lousy hamburger, but at the time, I actually liked those soggy messes. (My tastes have much improved, I hope.) As I waited, I realized that I should probably be saved. I was raised in a Christian home, surrounded by Adventures in Odyssey and Sunday school lessons, with the Gospel of Christ rattling around in my head. It finally occurred to me that I should probably do something about it.

I… didn’t really do anything about it. I prayed a trite sinner’s prayer—which I repeated over the next few weeks just to make sure my salvation stuck—and then continued to live however the heck I wanted. My life continued to be as messy as those burgers.

That day in French Burger didn’t make an immediate impact, but it was a tiny step forward, and God is known to work wonders with little things.

It wasn’t until the start of high school that I became a proper Christian. It wasn’t exactly a decision, but more like a gradual movement toward Christ. I took prayer more seriously, began reading the Bible, and made a sincere effort to be less of a jerk. My faith has wavered over the years, but for better or worse, I’ve kept it.

The salvation of my soul wasn’t an event of dazzling beauty or splendid emotion, but it was a start. After all, redemption has to begin somewhere. “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.” Neither bad burgers nor bad people can preclude the grace of God.

465. The Five-Step Writing Conference

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I recently attended a professional writing conference. It was… well, it was a lot of things. I’ll outline my experience at the conference in five steps.

1. Early Misgivings

I hit the road a few days ago. My car, Eliezer, is dependable but dilapidated—after all, you can’t spell trusty without rusty. Eliezer lacks such vain frills as air conditioning. I call it a car, but it’s more like an oven on wheels. Thus it was a hot, disheveled Adam who arrived at the conference, sweating like a traveler in the mighty Kalahari, and having second thoughts.

Kalahari

Artist interpretation of writing conference weather.

I should also mention that my jeans kept creeping stealthily toward my ankles. This utterly baffled me. These jeans had previously fit me just fine, and their tag claimed they were my size. They insisted nonetheless on their downward trajectory. I found myself frequently hitching up my jeans until I was able to change into another pair in the privacy of my room.

The conference was held on the campus of a university. It gave me repeated flashbacks to my own college career, which began with severe depression and ended with existential dread. Speaking of which….

2. Crushing Despair

As I attended the conference’s early sessions—which were excellent, by the way—I slid slowly but inexorably into depression, guilt, hopelessness, and acute social anxiety.

This really surprised me. I suffer from chronic depression, as you’ve probably noticed if you’ve followed my blog for more than five minutes, but it usually comes and goes gradually. At the writing conference, it crushed me with the steady force of a steamroller. I was also surprised by the social anxiety. I’m an introvert, but I can usually deal with social events.

The guilt and hopelessness were worst of all.

Depressed Adam

Artist interpretation of depressed Adam. (In case you were wondering, I didn’t actually make faces like this at the writing conference… I don’t think.)

I was surrounded by people with serious aspirations of professional writing, and people who actually write professionally. By comparison, I’m half a writer. I know a few things about writing as a craft, but hardly anything about writing as a profession.

In those early sessions of the conference, with their unfiltered insights into a tough and competitive industry, my bravado and optimism were quick to evaporate. I felt seriously out of my depth. I felt like a fraud.

3. Redeeming Peace

As a pragmatic (and sadly skeptical) follower of Christ, my faith leans more toward intellect than emotion. I don’t often have those moments of raw emotion sometimes called “religious experiences,” and I talk about them still less often, but halfway through the conference, I found one.

Having retreated to my room (which I had formally christened the Introvert Cave), I switched on the air conditioner, sat on the bed, and prayed. I told God that as I held on to faith in him, I had to believe he had brought me to that conference for a reason. I asked him to help me find it, and to see him at work.

I immediately felt a profound peace—a sudden, absolute conviction that everything was going to be okay. This peace carried me through the rest of the day, redeeming it, and giving me a little hope.

4. Shower Misadventures

The showers at the conference deserve a mention. They were lined up along a hallway in a communal bathroom, and guarded from the public eye only by flimsy and ill-fitted curtains. After a long day in the summer sun, I really needed a rinse. I had no choice. Casting off my misgivings, I cast off my clothes. I would not be conquered by a public shower.

I immediately ran into another problem. It was my old enemy, the Tiny Hotel Soap.

My old enemy

We meet again.

Have you ever stayed in a hotel and tried washing yourself with those itty-bitty bars of soap? It’s impossible. The Tiny Hotel Soap provided at the conference was roughly the size and shape of a saltine cracker, with the density of carbon steel. I tried to work up a lather with the Tiny Hotel Soap. It would have been easier to work up a lather with a soap-sized slab of sculpted marble.

I finally concluded my shower, only to realize I had forgotten my towel. (Forgive me, Douglas Adams.) It was a wet and abashed Adam who sneaked back to his room. It was a good thing God had given me peace, or that shower may just have broken me.

5. Caffeinated Resignation

I blundered through the rest of the conference with a kind of resigned determination, fueled by coffee. I learned a lot, actually, and took pages of notes. I also hung out with an old friend, a fellow blogger, and a couple of nice ladies from Argentina, so that was cool.

In the end, the writing conference made me seriously question my vague pretensions of someday being a professional writer. It would be a radical shift, and would take tons of hard work and research for no guaranteed payoff. If I ever make that plunge, I’ll have to go all in.

The conference also reminded me that there are so many other dedicated writers out there, many of whom are admirably ambitious, successful, and gifted. I must keep a healthy sense of perspective. I am, to echo Gandalf, only quite a little fellow in a wide world after all!

Gandalf

When in doubt, quote Tolkien or Doctor Who.

A speaker at the conference made a good point: “A hobbyist writes for himself. A professional writes for his audience.” I’m a hobbyist. I write for fun, and God only knows whether that will ever change. If it does, I now have a slightly clearer idea of what to expect. If it doesn’t, I now have some idea of what I’m missing.

Either way, it’s nice to know.

I never tire of quoting the good Doctor from Doctor Who. (My readers probably tire of it, but I don’t.) As he might have put it, while the conference itself was excellent, my experiences there were a pile of good things and bad things. The good things didn’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things didn’t necessarily spoil the good things or make them unimportant.

And the conference definitely added to my pile of good things.

452. Prayer Requests?

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It occurred to me lately that I’ve never invited my readers to submit prayer requests so that I could, y’know, pray for ’em specifically.

Today seems like a good day to make that right. How, dear reader, can I pray for you? There’s no catch, I won’t charge a cent, and there’s no fine print. I promise to pray for readers who submit requests, and to keep requests private. (I’ll also try to keep my use of the word just to a minimum; that’s one I wouldn’t mind seeing banished.)

I believe prayer can be powerful and effective, like a water-type move against a fire-type Pokémon. Okay, I admit that analogy is a bit far-fetched… or, dare I say, a bit Farfetch’d. (Wow, that pun was esoteric and lame. I’m so, so sorry.)

Adam used Pray

Life should be more like Pokémon… or maybe it shouldn’t. I dunno.

If I can pray for you in any way, leave a comment or tweet at me—or, if you want to keep your request private, send me a Facebook message or use TMTF’s Contact page.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get the Pokémon anime theme out of my head. Pray for me, guys.

410. Looking Ahead, and Hoping for the Best

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It’s a new year! By the grace of God, Planet Earth and its population of grouchy humans staggered through 2015. The year 2016 has begun, promising new adventures and opportunities, and also a new Legend of Zelda game.

This is going to be a good year. At any rate, that’s what I keep telling myself.

Zelda Wii U

Nothing brightens up a new year like the promise of a new Legend of Zelda title!

For me, 2015 was a year of change. I quit a lousy job, found a better one, changed job positions, lost a dear friend, grew a beard, and acquired a cat. What lies ahead this year? God only knows. I begin 2016 hopeful, highly caffeinated, and armed with several New Year’s resolutions.

In my last post, I reviewed my old resolutions for 2015. What are my resolutions for the new year? Well, I’m glad I asked. Here they are!

I will be more purposeful.

I’m easily distracted, and my life is full of distractions. Consider my cat, Pearl, who jumped onto my lap while I was trying to write this blog post and began licking my arm. I’m not sure whether to be flattered or concerned. Is the licking a gesture of affection, or is she making up her mind whether to eat me?

Do you see what I mean? I try to make a point about distractions, only to end up worrying about my cat. In my day-to-day life, I often drift from meaningful activities to worthless ones. I spend too much time reading random articles on Wikipedia and brooding over frivolities, and too little time reading books and writing stuff that matters to me.

I work in a nursing home. Surrounded by old people, I realize that I too shall be old someday (assuming my cat doesn’t eat me first). At that time, I don’t want to look back with anguish, regret, and gnashing of teeth. (Heck, I may not have any teeth left to gnash.) When I’m old, I want to look back on a life well spent.

That must begin now, here, today, this year, with purposeful living. It begins with little day-to-day decisions. I have to start somewhere, right?

I will value prayer more.

As an orthodox Christian, I believe prayer is the most important, powerful, significant thing I can do, yet I don’t spend as much time in prayer as in years past. Why is this? There are a number of reasons, but I won’t discuss them today. What I will say is this: I need to value prayer, and to pray faithfully.

It’s a secret to everybody.

My final resolution is a well-kept secret, locked carefully in a well-kept chest in the tidy depths of a well-kept dungeon. (I like to keep things neat.)

It's a secret to everybody

Today is a day for Legend of Zelda references. I regret nothing.

If I make enough progress on this resolution, I’ll announce it later this year. At this point, it’s either a surprise I don’t want to spoil, or a plan I won’t reveal in case it fails; take your pick.

These are my resolutions for 2016. Yes, I know there are only three, and in years past I’ve had six. As 2015 reminded me, six is too many. The more resolutions I set, the easier it is for me to forget or ignore them. By setting only three, I’m more likely to remember and keep them.

At any rate, that’s the plan.

Do you have any resolutions for this year? Let us know in the comments!

409. Looking Back, and Wanting to Set Stuff on Fire

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New Year’s Eve is almost here. A new year lies ahead, full of promise and possibility. As this year draws to a close, we take down Christmas decorations, make resolutions, and burn effigies in the streets.

Burn, año viejo, burn!What? We don’t do that in America?

This country is no fun.

As a kid in Ecuador, one of my favorite holiday traditions was the burning of the año viejo, or old year. Every New Year’s Eve, families gather to burn their own año viejo: a crude effigy of a person stuffed with sawdust, fitted with a papier-mâché mask, and doused in something flammable. Popular likeness for año viejo masks include superheroes, cartoon characters, and (of course) politicians.

In addition to sawdust, some people stuff a few firecrackers into their año viejo. Such effigies do not go gentle into that good night. They go with roaring flames and an irregular series of bangs. Man, I miss Ecuador.

The burning of the año viejo is a beautiful tradition: a symbol of letting go of the past year’s troubles and failures. (It’s also fun for pyromaniacs.) My dad, ever the creative missionary, used an año viejo one New Year’s Eve to share a lesson from the book of Romans: “For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body ruled by sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin—because anyone who has died has been set free from sin.”

I’m sorry to say my little Indiana town probably won’t let me set fire to stuff on the streets, even as a cherished symbol of moving forward. Since I can’t burn an año viejo, I’ll have to settle for making some New Year’s resolutions. Before I do, however, I should probably review the old ones.

Here are my resolutions for 2015. Did I keep them? Before they go up in a metaphorical cloud of smoke, let’s find out.

I will be more intentional in keeping my New Year’s resolutions.

Yeah, no. As usual, I kept several of my New Year’s resolutions, but it was only by dint of trying generally to be a better person. I had to look up my old resolutions in order to write today’s blog post, which means I failed to keep this one.

I will work on my Spanish.

I kept this one, but not exactly on purpose. My plan was to watch Avatar: The Last Airbender in Spanish, which I definitely didn’t do. However, since starting work as a CNA in a nursing home earlier this year, I’ve spoken Spanish regularly with one of the residents. I declare this resolution sort of kept.

I will practice spinning an old broomstick.

I didn’t keep this one. My talent for twirling a broomstick like some sort of janitorial ninja went mostly unpracticed this year. Sometimes, when I spin my broomstick in the local park, Amish kids stare at me fixedly with blank expressions. It’s a little creepy. I wish I could find a more private place for stick-twirling.

I will have a more positive attitude.

I actually kept this one, thanks in no small part to my resignation from a horrible job. (It’s so much easier to think positively when you aren’t crushed every day by impossible expectations, thankless conditions, and toxic people.) So much changed this year: much of it for the better. I still don’t know what I’m going to do with my life, but things seem a little more hopeful.

I will research career options.

I sort of kept this one, but not really. I researched the steps required to become a Certified Nursing Assistant—and promptly became one—but that isn’t exactly a step forward. It’s more like a step sideways. I also did a tiny bit of research into editing and did some preliminary editing for a friend’s manuscript… that counts, right?

I will value prayer more.

I… didn’t keep this one. I’m sorry to say I valued prayer less this year than in years past. I’m working on it.

What are my resolutions for 2016? That shall wait until next time!

Did you keep your resolutions this year? Let us know in the comments!

We did it, guys. WE DID IT! Operation Yuletide reached its fundraising goal thanks to the staggering generosity of a few awesome people! The fundraiser is still going, and it’s not too late to donate—every dollar helps, and there are rewards for donors! Check it out here!

329. The Post of Resolutions Yet to Come

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All right. I’ve reviewed my resolutions for 2014. What of the year ahead? What resolutions have I made for being a better, nicer, wiser person?

Here are my resolutions for 2015.

I will be more intentional in keeping my New Year’s resolutions.

Full disclosure: I make an effort at the start of each year to keep my New Year’s resolutions, and I forget by the end of each year whatever the heck it was that I had resolved to do. I often keep New Year’s resolutions by dint of trying generally to be a better person, not by remembering and keeping specific goals. In the new year, I’ll be intentional in keeping my resolutions—this one included!

I will work on my Spanish.

This is an old resolution, which I mostly failed to keep. My grasp of the Spanish language was never a strong one, and it has only weakened in the six and a half years since I left Ecuador. This will be the year I dust off my old Avatar: The Last Airbender DVDs, pop ’em in my laptop, and watch the Spanish dub of the entire series. After all, cartoons make learning fun bearable!

Spanish teacher

Yes, I will learn Spanish from this irresponsible cartoon twelve-year-old. Teach me, O bald one!

I will practice spinning an old broomstick.

A few people know of my talent for twirling old broomsticks like some sort of janitorial ninja. I haven’t really practiced this useless gift in the past few years. It’s high time I get some regular fresh air and exercise spinning my broomstick in the local park… even if it means little Amish children lining up in a neat, silent row to stare at me. (This really happened, and it was even more awkward than it sounds.)

I will have a more positive attitude.

I am a pessimist, and also a cheerful person. At the root of my paradoxical pessimism is the fact that cheerfulness and hopefulness are not the same thing. Beneath my silliness and sense of humor there is generally a negative outlook and an attitude of defeat. (It’s no coincidence that many humorists, from Mark Twain to James Thurber, were deeply melancholy men.) I will try in the new year not merely to be cheerful, but to trust, and to hope, and to persevere.

The face of a pessimist

This is truly the face of a pessimist.

I will research career options.

Despite having an English Education degree and a teacher’s license, I’ve finally admitted to myself that I don’t want to be a teacher—at least not in a US public school setting. Fortunately, there are other options open for someone with experience in English Education and a writing addiction. While I’m not planning to move on quite yet, this will be the year I figure out where I might go from here.

I will value prayer more.

I don’t value prayer enough. As an orthodox Christian, I believe it’s the single most important thing I do every day. However, in years past, I’ve made prayer just another item on my daily to-do list—and generally the first thing to be cut when I get busy. In the new year, I mean to honor God by honoring prayer.

Do you have any resolutions for the new year that you’re willing to share? Let us know in the comments!

Thanks for reading! If you have a moment, please check out TMTF’s charity fundraisers this month and make the new year awesome for a person in need!

286. God is Not a Grump

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I may be overanxious, but prayer kind of scares me.

Does any other person of faith feel at least a little nervous speaking to the creator of the universe? Heck, I get flustered interacting with random people on the Internet. Speaking to the Lord God Almighty is a good deal more intimidating. I mean, he made the starry heavens! He designed trees and molecules and wombats! He created coffee! (I believe coffee is the clearest ontological proof of God’s goodness.) I mean, seriously, the greatness of God is immeasurable, and it makes me nervous.

Yes, I know God loves me. Christian culture tends to emphasize the kindness, love and gentleness of Christ, sometimes to the point at which it forgets his harsher words and actions.

"Hey, man. Got Christ?"

Christian culture sometimes gives this impression of Christ, which is equal parts heretical and hilarious.

I generally make the opposite mistake. I remember the Lord Jesus brandishing a whip, killing trees and calling people snakes. I recall all those times in the Old Testament God pronounced curses on people and struck them dead.

When I pray, I sometimes can’t shake the feeling that God hears my prayers with the divine equivalent of a grumpy expression.

I'll listen to your prayers, but only because I have to.

“I’ll listen to your prayers, kid, but only because I’m contractually obligated by the Bible.”

Why do I struggle with this faint, annoying fear that God is a celestial grouch?

I suppose it’s because I’m painfully aware of my own faults, and not always forgiving towards the faults of others. It’s easy for me to assume that God, being absolutely perfect, is even less tolerant of our sins and failures. If I were God—which, fortunately for the universe, I am not—I wouldn’t be very gracious or patient.

Thus I often have what C.S. Lewis called a “vague, though uneasy, feeling that [I haven’t] been doing very well lately.” This uneasiness makes me reluctant to pray or practice other spiritual commitments. It’s easier for me to bury my anxiety in unnecessary busywork, pointless procrastination or random YouTube videos. Quoth Lewis, “All humans at nearly all times have some such reluctance; but when thinking of [God] involves facing and intensifying a whole vague cloud of half-conscious guilt, this reluctance is increased tenfold.”

It was last week I was reminded, and not for the first time, that praying badly is better than not praying at all. “Next to trying and winning,” as I often say, “the best thing is trying and failing.” When I feel far from God, keeping my distance probably won’t help.

As for God being a grump, well, that’s nonsense. There’s a famous verse in the thirty-fourth chapter of Exodus. God appears in this passage and, being a gentleman, introduces himself: “The LORD, the LORD, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness.”

These words are echoed throughout the rest of the Bible, and the “slow to anger” part jumped out at me as I read Psalm 145 yesterday: “The Lord is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love.” He responds with compassion, not contempt; grace, not disgust; gentleness, not grouchiness.

If God is truly gracious, compassionate and slow to anger, I think it’s safe to say he is not a grump.

Help, I’m a Christian! – Prayer

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Jesus was once asked by his disciples how they should pray. It was pretty smart of them to ask him, since he’s sort of an expert on the subject.

Here’s what he had to say: “When you pray, say: ‘Father, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread. Forgive us our sins, for we also forgive everyone who sins against us. And lead us not into temptation’” (Luke 11:2-4).

For me, the most powerful thing about this prayer is one word. The prayer begins with Father. Jesus calls God his Father, but that’s not surprising. (Jesus is the Son of God, after all.) What’s surprising is that he instructs us to call God our Father!

This brings us to the most significant thing I’ve discovered about prayer: If prayer is part of the Christian faith, and the Christian faith is basically a relationship with God, then prayer is part of a relationship.

This seems pretty obvious, but it took me a long time to understand.

When I was younger, my prayers were recitations. It took me a long time to understand that prayers are supposed to involve not one person, but two people: a speaker and a listener. Prayers are meant to be conversations.

My early prayers were full of phrases that sounded impressive but didn’t mean anything. I prayed vaguely, asking God, “keep your hand on this person, and pour out your grace upon that person.”

I wasn’t really asking God to help anyone. I was just easing my conscience by praying churchy prayers.

When we pray for other people, it should be to help them—not to make ourselves feel better. This often requires us to pray for specific needs. If my friend Socrates is recovering from surgery or going through depression, I should pray specifically for his healing or comfort—not petition God to do something unspecified like “showering Socrates with abundant blessings.”

Sometimes we don’t know what other people need. Sometimes we don’t even know what we need. That’s okay. We can still pray, “Father, you know this person’s needs. Please meet those needs, whatever they may be.”

A final lesson I’ve learned about prayer: Every word counts! The Bible warns against praying long, rambling prayers: “God is in heaven and you are on earth, so let your words be few” (Ecclesiastes 5:2).

The Lord Jesus himself said, “And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him” (Matthew 6:7-8).

It’s easy to pray without thinking. When we pray, we must stay focused and say only what we really mean. As Jesus said, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength” (Mark 12:30). We should pray with all our mind, not just part of it.

To sum up, here are the three most important things I’ve learned about prayer:

Prayer should be a conversation, not a recitation.

Prayer should be sincere and meaningful, not empty and meaningless.

Prayer should be focused, not vague.

Next: The Bible

83. Prayer Phrases to Be Banished

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Today’s post was written by Some Guy, blogger extraordinaire. For more humorous reflections and commentaries, check out his blog!

We all have our comfortable prayer phrases—things you say during prayer when you can’t think of anything else. And I’m not talking about filler words either. I mean the verbs in the prayer—what you are asking God to do.

I have some prayer phrases I use but I wish I didn’t use. To help rid myself of this bad habit, I’m going to hand out those buzzers that come in the game Taboo. Anytime I pray these words, someone will buzz me. It might be a bit distracting though. And too tempting for those pranksters who would slip one onto the chair just before someone sits down.

Here are my three phrases to be banished for being too generic.

The Word “Bless”

I once read that an easy way to improve your prayers is to avoid the word “bless.” It’s way too generic, rendering it meaningless.

“Dear God, please bless Socrates.” How are you going to know when God answers that one? Maybe you wanted him to have a better job, but God gave him more children. They are both blessings.

It certainly wouldn’t hurt to be specific when you ask for something. Saying “bless Socrates” is, in effect, saying “do something for Socrates, but I don’t care what it is.”

The Phrase “Be With”

Do I believe that God is always with me? With anyone else? Then why do I pray as if God isn’t going to be with someone? “Lord, please be with Socrates.”

If I didn’t know that God is patient, I would expect Him to get frustrated. “I am with you. I already told you that. Why don’t you believe Me?”

The Phrase “Watch Over”

This is along the same lines as “Be With.” Of course God is going to watch over us. In your prayers though, do you want Him just watching? Or do you want Him to do something?

I observed a good illustration of this at the beach. A wife asked the husband to watch their toddler, who was enjoying throwing sand at the waves. It was a cooler day, so the child was wearing a shirt and pants along with sandals. Perfect for playing in the sand instead of swimming. The toddler didn’t mind that the waves occasionally splashed his pant legs, so the husband didn’t disturb the child’s fun. The wife returned, saw the wave-splashed child, and became upset.

“I thought you were watching him!”

“I did watch him.”

“Then why is he all wet?”

“Oh, you wanted me to keep him dry?”

A prayer to have God “watch over” someone does not really ask God to do anything different from what He is already doing. How are you going to see that prayer answered?

Those are my top three phrases that deserve banishment. Perhaps you use them too. Don’t worry—if I hear you use them, I won’t judge you.

At least not out loud.

So what’s your go-to prayer phrase? What else would you like to see banished? Let us know in the comments!

Help, I’m a Christian! – Prayer

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Jesus was once asked by his disciples how they should pray. It was pretty smart of them to ask him, since he’s sort of an expert on the subject.

Here’s what he had to say: “When you pray, say: ‘Father, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread. Forgive us our sins, for we also forgive everyone who sins against us. And lead us not into temptation’” (Luke 11:2-4).

For me, the most powerful thing about this prayer is one word. The prayer begins with Father. Jesus calls God his Father, but that’s not surprising. (Jesus is the Son of God, after all.) What’s surprising is that he instructs us to call God our Father!

This brings us to the most significant thing I’ve discovered about prayer: If prayer is part of the Christian faith, and the Christian faith is basically a relationship with God, then prayer is part of a relationship.

This seems pretty obvious, but it took me a long time to understand.

When I was younger, my prayers were recitations. It took me a long time to understand that prayers are supposed to involve not one person, but two people: a speaker and a listener. Prayers are meant to be conversations.

My early prayers were full of phrases that sounded impressive but didn’t mean anything. I prayed vaguely, asking God, “keep your hand on this person, and pour out your grace upon that person.”

I wasn’t really asking God to help anyone. I was just easing my conscience by praying churchy prayers.

When we pray for other people, it should be to help them—not to make ourselves feel better. This often requires us to pray for specific needs. If my friend Socrates is recovering from surgery or going through depression, I should pray specifically for his healing or comfort—not petition God to do something unspecified like “showering Socrates with abundant blessings.”

Sometimes we don’t know what other people need. Sometimes we don’t even know what we need. That’s okay. We can still pray, “Father, you know this person’s needs. Please meet those needs, whatever they may be.”

A final lesson I’ve learned about prayer: Every word counts! The Bible warns against praying long, rambling prayers: “God is in heaven and you are on earth, so let your words be few” (Ecclesiastes 5:2).

The Lord Jesus himself said, “And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him” (Matthew 6:7-8).

It’s easy to pray without thinking. When we pray, we must stay focused and say only what we really mean. As Jesus said, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength” (Mark 12:30). We should pray with all our mind, not just part of it.

To sum up, here are the three most important things I’ve learned about prayer:

Prayer should be a conversation, not a recitation.

Prayer should be sincere and meaningful, not empty and meaningless.

Prayer should be focused, not vague.

Next: The Bible