Prayer: Why Even the Little Stuff Still Matters
Have you ever felt like when you get the guts to pray, you're doing it all wrong?
Like you're using too many words or too few? Like your prayers are too lofty or too simple? Like your concerns are silly or stupid? If so, this one's for you. For the ones who think prayer has anything to do with impressing God, not asking for too much or not even bothering to ask for the littlest of little things.
I used to think my prayers weren’t reaching heaven.
Until recently, I've believed that only some of my prayers would actually work. That only like 50% of what I'd ask for, I'd actually get from God. If I managed to be bold enough to even ask him for something, I felt like I was asking more out of wishful thinking than faith.
When it comes to prayer, my struggle is that it's often hard for me to talk to God about things that seem small or trivial.
If I'm honest, sometimes I believe the lie that the things I care about don't really matter to God, like they're unimportant or too silly to talk to him about.
See, I don't really have a problem believing God for the big things. I struggle at times to believe him for the small.
I can pray big faith prayers for my family, my friends, my finances and dreams, along with the world + all of its problems. But I remain silent over the small things that feel seemingly insignificant.
Exhibit A:You know that lil’ webbing of skin between your thumb + index finger? Well for years, that lil’ space has been deathly dry. I feel like those commercials advertising products for "chronically dry skin" are always aimed directly at me and my hand. And this summer, it’s gotten nothing but worse. Peeling. Cracking. And dang-near bleeding.
I’ve tried cocoa butter, coconut oil + a gazillion lotions. Still, NOTHIN’ worked for that crackled patch of skin.
Then one day, I felt like God nudged my heart: “You’ve tried everything else, but have you prayed for your hand?”
Prayer was definitely NOT on my list of potential remedies.
And in that moment I realized perhaps I hadn't prayed for my hand because I felt like God could care less about it, that he had bigger + better things to do than to tend to my daunting ashiness. haha
But then, all of these memories of past prayers–grand + teensy–that I had seen him answer for me + others started filling my mind.
Like the time one of my best friends lost her iPhone on the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland, prayed it would be found + she eventually got it back. WITHOUT. A. SCRATCH.
Like the time another BFF of mine was leaving one job for another, told her coworkers to say a lil' prayer for her that she'd have enough money to be okay until she started the new job, and one of her coworkers randomly sent her $1,000.
Like all of those times during my first pregnancy that my husband + I spoke positive words over our daughter contrary to everyone's traumatic stories about having babies. And she's continuously the most hilarious, fun and sweetest little girl.
When I remember all of the "little prayers" God's answered before, when I'm reminded that part of Jesus' purpose sitting right next to the Father in heaven is to talk to him about me–and that every friggin' thing Jesus asks for, he gets–I'm encouraged to know that he desires + delights for me to come to him with all of my stuff.
I'm starting to see + believe that God cares about anything + everything I care about.
The things that concern me, the things that seem mundane, messy or just so farfetched from the perfection that heaven is are the same things he still wants to be right in the thick of.
So, though it felt dumb and silly and ridiculous, I looked down at that withered, crackled portion of my right hand and prayed over it. It went somethin' like:
"Ok God.
If you can return phones that were lost on friggin' Indiana Jones, then surely, you can heal my little hand. So in the name of Jesus, I ask that you would heal this skin on my hand back to normal, that there'd be no more cracking, peeling or dryness, and that my skin would actually absorb moisture instead. In Jesus' name...amen."
And day by day since that prayer, over the course of a few weeks, I watched the dryness of my skin fade. Looking at it now, it looks like a completely different hand!
I'm learning that doubt isn't faith's #1 enemy.
Fear is.
The fear that God doesn't care or can't do anything about our itty bitty prayer requests is what keeps us from asking. And when we don't ask, we're robbing ourselves of seeing just how powerful + loving God really is. We miss out on seeing how much we actually do matter to him. "Nothing is impossible with God" (Luke 1:37) but I think I struggle to believe that sometimes. (Heck, most times.) I wrestle with believing God can actually do something with the small worries + needs of my heart.
It doesn't take big faith to pray. But it does takes little faith to believe our big God.
He's into the big and the small. And if he's done something on either end of that spectrum for others, there is no reason why he can't/won't do it for us. But we have to let go of the lie that we are exempt from God's power + promises, that he loves + favors everyone but us. That is simply not true. If we'd dare to believe the fact that "God is no respecter of persons" (Acts 10:34), shouldn't that give us the courage to come to running to him?
This morning, all of these thoughts on prayer sparked from me digging in to this devotional called "Enjoying Jesus" by If:Gathering on 12 spiritual disciplines that draw us closer to God's heart. I love how they explained the heart of prayer:
"Lay aside whatever formulas confuse or condemn you and run like a child toward the porch light of heaven."
When I think about my daughter, there are things she unashamedly asks me and her dad for. She has no problem requesting juice, crackers, sandwiches or for us to give her the moon so she could play with it. Not only does she believe she'll actually get whatever she asks for–no matter how ridiculous–she also isn't afraid to hold us to our word. And I believe that's the same child-like faith God is looking for us to have in prayer.
God's not into excluding anyone with favoritism. Every one of us is his favorite. And if we could get that + embrace that, I don't think we'd be so fearful + reluctant to "come boldly to the throne of grace" in our time of need (Hebrews 4:16).
Now more than ever, I have the courage + faith to bring anything and everything to him. That's what I think he desires most, for us to let him in–no matter how messy, big or small the matter is.