There was a time when I complicated prayer so much that I slowly began to withdraw from it. I treated it like a performance instead of a privilege. At other times, I diminished it treating it casually, almost as if it were optional and so I drifted again.
There were seasons when I simply lacked practice. I forgot that the rhythms of prayer are not built in crisis, but cultivated in consistency. Prayer is not sustained by intensity; it is sustained by returning.
And if I am honest, there were moments when I allowed the voices of others to intimidate mine. When people prayed with eloquence and power, I shrank back. I mistook volume for depth, vocabulary for intimacy. I forgot that You are not impressed by performance, You are moved by presence.
But You never gave up on me. You kept drawing me back. Gently. Faithfully. Without shame.
You led me to a place in prayer that feels like ease not because it lacks reverence, but because it is rooted in relationship. You have been unboxing prayer to me again, layer by layer. Teaching me that intimacy is not earned; it is entered.
Today, I am grateful.
Grateful that prayer is accessible. Grateful that it is not reserved for the spiritually elite. Grateful that through the finished work of the cross, I can stand in Your name and be heard.
When I read, “Praying always with all kinds of prayer and supplication” (Ephesians 6:18), I am reminded that there is diversity in communion. There are different expressions, different tones, different seasons. Petition. Intercession. Thanksgiving. Silence. Groaning. Worship. There is space for all of it.
When I read that You went away and prayed the third time, saying the same words again, I am reminded that prayer is not merely about receiving answers. It is about alignment. It is about surrender being deepened through repetition.
And when I read, “Ask and keep on asking. Seek and keep on seeking. Knock and keep on knocking” (Matthew 7:7), I am reminded that perseverance is part of the formation. The process is shaping me as much as the promise.
Today, my heart swells with joy, not because everything is resolved but because I have rediscovered the gift.
Wells of Wonder 