I don’t know anyone who thinks they’re praying as much as they should.
When the preacher tells us to pray more, we really want to. It’s a constant, itchy, burdening debt. Days, weeks, months go by with a handful of failed attempts — and each prayer feels like we’re apologizing.
I’m sorry I haven’t prayed in so long. I’m sorry it’s not longer than a few minutes. I’m sorry it’s not “deeper.”
Prayer is hard though, if you ever really tried it.
I mean in the first five minutes, you start thinking of other stuff. A lot. Did I leave the stove on? Should I send that email first? Should I do some sit-ups after? Did I respond to that text? It feels like we’re running through an iron stocking, with all these distractions and interruptions and runaway thought-trains.
Then there’s the doubting. We don’t know if it’s working. Or if God is listening. Or if we’re doing it right. Or if we’re too dirty to pray. Or if I even need to, since God does what He wants anyway.