Praying to Be Connected

My brain can be tricky. There are a few things I know how to do that my brain won’t let me do on the first try. I call these ninja mind tricks. I have to slow down and think through them. I consistently misspell the words friends and tomorrow unless I slow my thinking. I can remember the words to almost any song but have great difficulty recalling numbers. And even though I know not all spiders are poisonous, I freak out about all of them, even a daddy long-legs, unless I stop myself.

As a psychotherapist, I know we can train our brains to rewire themselves. If we repeat things often enough, our brains make neurological connections that help us overcome bad habits or create good ones–like how we learned to tie our shoes, recite the alphabet, or sing a song. No matter how many times we tell ourselves we can’t do something, usually practice will enable us to accomplish it.

Another of my stubborn mind tricks can happen when I pray. I love prayer. I visualize the wonderful pictures of him that are easy to find on the internet. As I pray I know that He is listening with love and compassion.

It’s safe to say, I pray a lot. And when I pray, I want to feel connected. If I’m anxious, I long for that peace that surpasses understanding when I say “Amen.”

But sometimes it seems as though my prayers have hit the ceiling and bounced back. I’m left with a hollow, lonely feeling. It’s as though I am talking to God through a disconnected phone. I have experienced connection many times. And I want it every time.

If I say “Amen,” and my prayer has bounced, I work to create a neurological chain in my brain to guard against that. I don’t ignore that hollow feeling, because we can’t fix what we can’t face. Instead, I move into it. I remind myself that I am indeed connected, I just don’t “feel” it. I know that the lack of connection is on my end.

^“Jesus, the Messiah,^a is the same yesterday and today—and forever!” (Heb. 13:8 ISV)

Over the years, I have figured out what has me stuck. It’s the last line of my prayer, “Thy will be done.” I’m asking him for what I want the way I think it should be done because I can’t see a better way. It’s hard to let go of that control.

So I meditate on what the Word has to say about his will:

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future’” (Jer. 29:11 NIV).

If I didn’t have that ninja mind trick, I would know that his way will always be superior to mine and always be in my favor.

A visual that comes to mind helps me create a mental shortcut to this understanding. Years ago, I delivered the children’s message at church. Holding up the back of a small oriental rug, and a large embroidery needle with neon green thread attached, I explained that my will was to push that hard needle through the rug so that my green thread would be a part of the design on the other side. I said a little prayer, “Lord help me push my needle through this tough backing. Thy will be done.”

Of course, the children watched me struggle. I explained I needed help, so I let a few of them give it a shot, knowing it would not work. “He isn’t answering my prayer,” I said, “And I just know that this is the perfect color.” When I gave up, I explained, “God must have said no. Why? Why?”

When I flipped the rug, the children explained it to me in perfect childlike wisdom. “You were going to mess it up,” and “You had it all wrong.” That neon green looked horrible against the perfect cranberry, beige, and brown design. My will was not in my best interest.

But what about my lack of peace? Why do I feel empty and void even if I know his will is better? During my years of practice in therapy, I must have said these words to hundreds of people: “Feelings are not facts.” My feelings have nothing to do with my ability to reach the Lord. And even if my prayers are inadequate, poorly said, or incomplete, I’m still covered.

^“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God.” (Rom. 8:26 – 27 NIV)

That is a Bible promise! I’m not able, but the Holy Spirit is interceding for me. Even when I don’t feel connected, I am.

In the notes section of my phone, I have a personal list of incredible miracles that have happened to me. I can’t deny them. They are one hundred percent true experiences of God’s miraculous intervention on my behalf. I can turn to that list or the blogs on my website where I write out the stories monthly. When I read them, I am reminded that I am indeed held in the palm of his hand. I think everyone needs a list of “There is no doubt in my mind that was God,” situations. We can read them and come away with, “I know that I know that was God.”

I want prayer to leave me feeling like a beloved child of the King: heard, seen, cared for and cherished. So I work to defeat that nasty ninja mind trick and then celebrate by turning on some impressive contemporary praise and worship videos and singing along.

Somewhere along the line, God always shows up. And I feel his holy presence. Oh, how my heart rejoices!

Deborah Maxey, Ph.D. retired as a therapist when she felt called to be repurposed and spend her time authoring Christian articles, devotions, and fiction. Her novel The Endling incorporates her deep insight into characters and dilemmas, as well as avenues to connect to God. Monthly she blogs about personal miracles at https://deborahmaxey.com.