Sitting on the porch steps, my thoughts about praying began to drift and my imagination went out running. As soon as I recognized that I was mentally on a run instead of mentally on my knees, the guilt of another failed prayer time began washing over my mind’s levee. Ordinarily I would have quit looking at my green running shoes, refocused on my intent to pray, apologized to the Lord for being at the wrong place during my time with Him, and redoubled my efforts to accomplish this perfunctory part of my Christian life called prayer.
But I was on what would become one of those great runs in my green shoes, even though I never moved from the porch steps. I was praying while I was running.
Old Man Guilt launched his standard, overwhelm-Pres-for-poor-prayer-practice routine while I focused on what was happening in my thought life.
Failure wasn’t part of this prayer time.
I was having a great time talking with the Lord while my imagination ran. (No, I didn’t notice whether His shoes were green). He and I were communicating; talking about the things on my prayer list as well as the sights and sounds around us.
I enjoyed being with Him and I got the distinct impression that He was enjoying being with me. There was friendship, rapport, pursuit of a common cause, joys shared, togetherness. It was a real breakthrough in our relationship.
I snapped out of my thoughts and headed for the breakfast table having a pretty good hunch that Father had spoken to me.
One great run leads to another. My imaginations of the morning translated into reality that afternoon. I headed out on a marvelous, four-mile run with a close friend—He called in prayer, and I agreed with Him.
Next time, “Praying with Ceasing”