It happened only yesterday. I prayed—and I saw God answer. I asked him to reveal himself in a particular situation. He turned a time of chaos into instant peace. He took frustration and transformed it to hope. And his grace flowed over the entire situation. We don’t always see such immediate answers to our prayers. So why do we pray? I’ve thought about that a lot. I believe we pray as an expression of our relationship with God. In fact, one of the things I love to teach is that prayer is more relationship than activity. Our Western culture has turned it into something we do, a box to check off on our list of daily tasks. But God (who is so much bigger than culture) intends prayer to be a lifestyle, a living expression of our lives as connected to His. That’s why he gave us Scriptures that speak of praying “always” or “without ceasing” (1 Thess. 5:18). Yes, Jesus modeled the importance of coming apart for specific times of prayer, but he also lived in continual conversation with his Father. If all this is true, why don’t we pray? We don’t pray first because we don’t have a relationship with God. After all, why talk to someone you don’t know? Before I understand that God wanted first place in my life, I prayed—sometimes. My infrequent petitions were what I call 911 prayers that begged God to help me pass a test or act in a particular situation. When I didn’t experience a specific or urgent need, I saw no need to communicate. Our culture teaches us not to talk to strangers—and we’re good at following rules (sometimes). But there’s another reason we don’t pray. We may have a relationship with God. We may know and understand that Jesus paid the penalty we deserved. We may know we will see him in heaven one day. But do we really believe he can make a difference on earth? My writing partner shared some stories with me this week. He’s had some encounters in which God has worked in dramatic ways. One day, we hope to share them in book form. He’s seen God do amazing things because he begins each of his prayers at the place of faith. As a young believer, he knew nothing better than to believe that God would take care of him. When he had a houseful to feed and an empty pantry, he asked God to move. He poured out his heart in prayer. And as he rose from that moment of desperation, he found that God provided the food he needed in an incredible way. That’s only one story (it’ll read much better...

The other day, God reminded me of a familiar lesson on prayer: carpe momento, or seize the moment. I’ve written before about my friend Anne Nigels and her immediate prayers when she became aware of a need. She prayed this way over the phone, in the grocery aisle, in line at the bank, in the hallway after a church service, and on countless other occasions. Anne was hospitalized several times over the years I knew her. As pastor and wife, my husband and I prayed during every hospital visit we made. Anne was the first patient who turned that around and prayed for us. Last week, I had the blessing of attending the Florida Christian Writers Conference at Lake Yale Baptist Conference Center. Almost as the conference began, I became aware of someone whose heart was tuned to the things of God. Barbara Eddings, a close friend of conference director Billie Wilson, has served as conference chaplain for many years. Each general session included a season of prayer in which Barbara poured out her heart before God and the rest of us got to listen in. Public prayer can prove a challenge. The enemy raises his head and makes it easy to concentrate on the audience of people rather than the audience of One. Barbara’s focus was right. Her prayers made that clear. God gave me glimpses of this woman of God throughout the conference. She was often seated at the hospitality table—but just as often, she was up to run an errand, answer a request, or meet a need. Her official title was “chaplain,” but I think it could have just as easily been “servant.” She seized the moment and moved to meet needs as her Father directed. God gave me the opportunity to seize a moment with Barbara, too. One evening, I had stayed in the main building later than I intended. Bone-weary, I was heading toward the door when I almost ran into her. Barbara looked more tired than I felt. God had already spoken to me about praying with her, and I knew that—in spite of our exhaustion—it was time to seize the moment. What followed became a time of blessing for us both. Barbara later told me to describe it as a time when “the Holy Ghost came down.” He was there. He was present. And He ministered to us both. In a conversation after our prayer, something else happened. A twist in our discussion led us to realize that we have a beloved mutual friend. Our friend now lives in Alabama, but we both met her in California. Only God could have added this special touch to our divine encounter. And it touched...

“We can do no great things—only small things with great love.”—Mother Teresa God drew me to himself through authentic prayer. I don’t mean that others prayed for me, although I’m sure they did. I don’t mean I prayed for myself, because I didn’t know how. Instead, God showed me that real prayer flowed from a real relationship. Up until then, my prayer life consisted of 911 calls: “Lord, help me pass this test” or “God, help Grandma feel better right away.” But the more I encountered real prayers that expressed genuine faith, the more I realized my need for Christ. As I grew in the Lord, my prayer life enlarged and expanded. In fact, my first major writing opportunity came through a prayer project. Since then, God’s allowed me not only to pray but to speak and teach about prayer. A few years ago, I began to pray a simple request almost every day, “Lord, teach me to pray.” Who knew he would use pain as a teacher? The pain came because someone didn’t like me. Someone really didn’t like me. That realization came as a shock because I barely knew this person (we’ll call her Jane). Not like me? How could it be? Nonetheless, the situation existed and, because of the circumstances involved, I could do nothing to change it. Nothing, that is, except pray. And that’s what I did. I typed out a list of specific Scriptures to pray for Jane and added more as time passed. My first prayers were selfish. I prayed for her attitude to change and for truth to prevail. But as time passed, I began to pray in new ways. I prayed that she would know the surpassing love of Christ. I prayed that Jesus would increase and abound in her life. I prayed that God would keep her in his name. I prayed that her marriage would be strong, that her children would rise up and call her blessed. I prayed, but I didn’t see God’s change Jane—at least not right away. What I witnessed instead were the ways he worked in mine. I found myself praying for her more and more. I began to see how precious she was to other people and to God. She mattered to him, so she mattered to me, too. Praying for Jane became a joy, not an obligation—a delight, not a duty. One day, I whispered a prayer of thanks as I realized that my wise Father had used this broken relationship to teach me to pray. What he whispered back shocked me: I wasn’t teaching you to pray. I was teaching you to love. Who’s the problem person in your life? Pray for...

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to share about the legacy of young missionary BJ Higgins, the subject of I Would Die for You (Revell, 2008). As I began, I mentioned a dear friend who went to be with the Lord this week. When I think about prayer, the first person on my mind and heart is Anne Clary Nigels. Anne was a wife, a mother, a grand- and great-grandmother, a teacher, an artist, a comedienne, and especially a prayer warrior and faithful disciple of Christ. When our family first came to Fort Johnson Baptist Church in Charleston, SC, people kept telling me, “Oh, you need to get to know Anne Nigels. You’ll love her!” For some reason, it took us several months to meet (it’s a large church with multiple services). My friends were right. When Anne and I met, we became instant and forever friends. We spoke often because of our mutual leadership in the prayer chain. And we prayed together often—over the phone and in person. Even after our move to Florida, we stayed in touch and never had a conversation that didn’t also include a prayer. What did Anne teach me? I can think of at least a few lessons. •LOVE GOD: Anne had a passion for the things of God. If I dropped by for a visit, I usually found her on her couch or on her back porch, God’s Word in hand. She studied the Word, she knew the Word, and she taught the Word. If you knew Anne, you knew that Jesus came first. •LOVE PEOPLE: I’ve never met a woman who loved her family more. When they triumphed, she rejoiced. When they hurt, she cried. And when her beloved husband Mac died a few months after his diagnosis with pancreatic cancer, she grieved. But Anne’s love spread far beyond her family. Everyone who knew her experienced the warmth of her heart and the personal interest she took in their lives. •JUST PRAY IT: Anne not only received prayer requests—she prayed. Her rule was that if you wanted to become part of our church prayer chain, you had to be willing to pray out loud when a need was shared. This bothered some people, but Anne didn’t care. She taught me by example to pray passionately, fervently, and immediately. These days, I’m much less likely to tell someone, “I’ll pray for you” and much more likely to pray over them right away. That’s to Anne’s credit and God’s glory. •KEEP PRAYING: I don’t think it ever failed. If I mentioned a need she and I had discussed months before, Anne would say, “Oh, yes. I was just praying about that!” and ask for...

I want to state up front that I’m not a prayer expert, just a Christ-follower and eager learner. A few years ago, I began praying the disciples’ request: “Lord, teach us to pray.” I’m still praying that prayer and watching him answer it in surprising ways. As I continue with this blog, I hope to share some of the things He’s taught me about prayer on what I’ll call the PRAY days. Since I see prayer as a relationship more than an activity, PRAY may also include other thoughts and ideas as well. On the READ days, we’ll examine books I’ve read (or want to read). I may also post some interview with authors I know (or want to know). Finally, the WRITE portion will include some of the writing tips, tricks, and helps I’ve learned (or—you guessed it—want to learn). I hope to post at least three times a week but am sure that will change with the work and/or family seasons. Blogging’s a scary prospect. I find this especially true for introverts like me. We don’t enjoy being the center of attention, and the Internet’s the cyber-equivalent of Carnegie Hall—or maybe Yankee Stadium. Or not. That’s another reason blogging intimidates me. What if no one stops by to read? What if no one comments? And especially—what if no one cares? That’s why I wanted to begin backwards. To my logical mind, the blog order should follow the order of my tagline: READ. WRITE.PRAY. But two important people in my life have dyslexia. And both have taught me much about the benefits of the backwards approach. It seems obvious by now that I want to begin my entry into blogdom with a prayer. Prayer has to come first because my relationship with God comes before anything else in my life. So I decided to flip things around and begin this first week of blogging where I’d planned to end. God, this blog joins many others as an expression of ideas. Speak through me. Allow me to share what’s right and true. If I embarrass myself, let it be for your glory. If I say something wise, let that be for your glory, too. And mostly, Father, help those who read and the one who writes learn more about you—because we love you, and we want to love you more. In Jesus’ name I...