Lately, I have been challenged by this thought: What if I was to play like children? What if, when I pray, I would be able to ignore my adult brain that constantly rationalizes and analyzes the things I pray for? What if I would pray in a way that would not assess what seems logical or possible or maybe doable?
Because, so often, I limit God in my prayers.
But God is not always logical.
He lets people have children who are beyond the child-bearing age. He asks a man to build a ship in the desert. He chooses the youngest of the brothers, the forgotten shepherd, to become king, and then lets him wait and be chased after for years. He could swoop in and change this world in the blink of an eye, but instead chooses to come into this world as a helpless babe. He chooses to work through people despite their lack of faith, their stubbornness, unwillingness, rebellion, and brokenness.
None of it is logical, by my limited, human standards of what logic is.
And God does the impossible.
He holds back the waters and makes a way straight through the sea. He lets walls fall down with the sound of shouts and trumpets. He walks on water. He dies, and rises again after three days.
God does the impossible.
He is a God that works beyond what I think is doable. He dreams up dreams for me I would never dare to dream. He works in ways I would not choose for myself, but looking back, were the very best ways. He is a God of mystery.
And yet, when I pray, I pray safe prayers. I pray prayers that I think are things He would want to do, or maybe should do, or ask Him even for the way in which He could do it.
I pray prayers that I think are easily doable because I am afraid.
I am afraid of disappointment. For what if my prayers are not going to be fulfilled? Could I bear the disappointment? Would I keep on praying?
Think about a child: they don’t think the way we do. When they want something, they go tell daddy and ask for it relentlessly. If they want a sibling, they will ask for it. If they want a pony, they will ask for it. If they want chocolate, they will ask for it. They don’t think about the possibility of this happening, or whether or not it is doable for mummy or daddy. Or whether or not it is healthy or the right time for it.
They simply ask.
So what if, this year, in my prayers, I will pray like a child would? What would happen to my prayer life? And what would happen in this world if I would ask boldly, and ask in full expectation that the always-good, ever-loving Father in heaven will grant these requests because He has given me authority on this earth to be His body, to execute and manage some of what is happening on this earth?
What if I would really understand my role in the grander scheme of heaven, and would understand that my Father is the One with all power on earth, for whom anything is possible, and who actually, very often, works in unlikely ways just to remind us of His glory.
What if I would pray with the security that, no matter what happens, He is always good, always sovereign, all-powerful, and all-knowing. Even if things turn out differently than I thought they should. What if I would manage to ask boldly for my will, all while fully submitting my will to His?
For at the end of the day, what I truly want to pray for is not necessarily my best ideas – because often they may not be the very best ones, but for His.
His will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Amen.
