I’ve come to learn that prayer is a discipline I am in need of appreciating more.
I’ve never been so much of a prayer warrior as a prayer jester. I may perform it, but how much of it can be taken seriously?
How much of what I pray is a contrived attempt at gaining the favor of God? Or worse, man?
What I have found though, is in moments of deep, intense anguish or pain, I always resort to praying. Always. Almost by accident even.
In those moments, my prayers are unintelligible and incoherent. Much of what I say could not be understood by the ears of man, nor would I want them to attempt. It’s rather embarrassing, even when one considers I’m completely alone when this happens. It’s not speaking in tongues, but it could very well be mistaken for it.
What it is though, is an attempt to put into words that which is beyond my own scope of expression. The language of humanity does a great disservice when uttered into the ears of the Almighty. Words can rarely give full meaning to that which we are feeling and wish to convey. This, perhaps, is the reason I mumble when praying.
And yet, I feel as if God accepts it all the same.
That through the rambling, incomprehensible babble I call “words”, He understands what I am saying. He feels what I feel.
He gets it.
How shameful of me to think that I could ever pray in a different manner, one that would be loftier in its use of elegant prose and poetic imagery! That to mumble the words of my heart before He who contains it would be far better than anything else is an almost preposterous notion to give in to, yet as followers of The Way we are given to preposterous thinking.
With these things in mind, I have some stuff I need to go mumble about.