November 16, 2009 at 02:29
Believing in Answered Prayer
Does God answer my prayers? I’m not keen to admit it, but such a question can leave me at a loss. I may attend church, read the Bible, and even spend time in prayer, but that doesn’t mean I have a fast answer on how God speaks to me. It’s something I have to work at, something to spend time thinking about.
I recently read a story by a woman who had just lost her husband to an illness, and was struggling with the very thought of whether to pray. God very clearly didn’t give her the answer she was looking for, and as a result she had lost faith not so much in prayer itself—she always knew that God would be in her heart—but in her own ability to pray. She lost something in the connection between what she believed and her actual experience.
I wonder, how many times in my own life has this loss also been true? The distractions of disappointment often take us away from actively engaging what we know and believe in our own hearts. We lose contact with a simple trust that sustains us.
When I do think about how God’s answers my prayers, I have to go right back to that simple trust and, well, actually think. And right away I remember many times in my life that God has shown I’m cared for, both large and small. Relationships, children, career choices, community. Each area includes plenty of blessings I never could have imagined on my own.
I prayed, God answered. It amazes me when I work to put it together.
 David Morris is a senior editor for Guideposts Books and directs the Extraordinary Answers to Prayer series.
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November 06, 2009 at 10:39
The Time In Between
One of the experiences that comes with living in the northeast is the dramatic changes of the four seasons. Right now it’s mid-autumn. Our heater’s been kicking in full force, I have leaves to rake (about 50 bags worth if you can believe it), and the crickets have long since stopped their nightly chorus. Behind us now is the penetrating warmth of summer, which I love, and coming up is its opposite extreme, winter, which has its good points.
What fascinates me about these annual patterns is the time between the extremes. Sometimes I want to slow them down, like in the fall, or speed them up, like in spring. Either way, I love being able to witness the day-to-day transitional moments of each. And when I somehow miss these changes, I’m disappointed.
I want to hold on to these in-between times, I think, because they remind me of entering into prayer with God. Prayer is an interaction, an interchange between two things—me in this mundane world and God in the sacred. Prayer almost becomes a world of its own, or alternatively, envelopes both.
In prayer I’m in that transitional moment. It’s mysterious. There’s movement, change. There are signs of where I’ve been and of the things to come. I’m so glad to be there, and I’d be disappointed if I didn’t take time to pray.
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November 01, 2009 at 01:30
Miracle of Simple Prayer
 Like a lot of people, I don’t consider myself good at prayer. Even when alone, I feel pressure to perform. So more often than I care to admit, my prayers are random, distracted, even detached from what’s really on my mind. Why do I make it so complicated?
Three-year-old Micayla Voss is someone for whom prayer is anything but complicated. Her mother Stacy tells a story that for an entire week Micayla insisted on praying for Grandma. Normally Micayla’s prayer list changes quickly, fluctuating between different people, pets, and just about anything else.
This particular week was different. Somehow this young soul was led to pray repeatedly for Grandma. Turns out that at the end of the week Grandma barely escaped tragedy. The all terrain vehicle (ATV) she and her husband were riding flipped over backward while going up a steep incline.
Something extraordinary happened. Grandpa had been thrown to the side, but the full weight of the ATV flew back toward where Grandma had landed. Instead of fatally crushing her, the trajectory of the contraption was altered just enough so that it carefully pinned her under the seat. Some unknown force seemed to be the only explanation for her survival.
A miracle? I think so. But what I find just as remarkable is that something prompted little Micayla to pray. She sensed a nudging and didn’t, or couldn’t, ignore it.
Next time I pray, I’m going to try and be like that small child. I’m going to stop worrying about what I’m supposed to pray, listen for that voice, and let it speak.
David Morris is a senior editor for Guideposts Books and directs the Extraordinary Answers to Prayer series.
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