In my “Neurotic’s Guide to Prayer,” I’ve compared public prayer to getting naked at the YMCA, complained about guitar players in prayer circles, and opened a window to my scatterbrained devotions. In this last post in the series, it’s time to pick up my towel and cover my shame. I also want to pick up a thread that was hopefully running through my posts–prayer doesn’t all depend on you.
I already said that most everybody feels just as nervous about public prayer as I do. I didn’t realize this because of some Sherlock Holmes deduction. I was at a prayer group recently with some other guys. One of them, Evan, had just become a Christian that past year. He was still learning the eccentricities of the faith that I didn’t even realize were eccentricities. He would ask what “quiet time” was, and what we meant by controlling our “thought lives.” Continue reading “What I Missed About Prayer”