On Prayer — tiffany nardoni

Pray and read your Bible. Trust God. That’s what good Christians do. If you grew up in the church like I did, you schedule your quiet time, you read your Bible, you tell your friends you’re praying for them. And you do. I was taught these things as a check-list. Or perhaps, this was simply my understanding. My comprehension of prayer was to ask God, thank God and say the Lord’s prayer.

I prayed. I prayed for my friends and their sick grandparents. I prayed for a baby sister (thank you, Lord for answering that prayer!) and I prayed for a baby brother (again, thanks, God!). I prayed for clarity and bravery and boldness in faith. I prayed for healing. I prayed for my future husband. And then I prayed for contentment being single.

And then…I prayed for our marriage and my husband and a house. I prayed for wisdom. I prayed for my siblings and my parents and my grandparents. I prayed for my baby.

But I lost that baby. So I prayed for another.

And the Lord answered with Thao.

And I prayed for more children and Jeff’s job and friends for Thao. And God answered. I prayed for friends and their babies and more big life changes.

And then Thao got sick. And I prayed for answers. I begged for answers. I asked God to show me so clearly, tangibly the next step and the next test and the next doctor. And we listened and trusted and prayed more.

And we tried so many things, so many paths, and so many prayers.

We sought out answers from doctors and naturopaths and church leaders.

They told us he was teething or it was a virus or unconfessed sin in our lives. All wrong. So wrong.

And again, we got down on our knees and prayed. We cried. We bowed. We bargained. We begged. And the Lord answered. He did. Just not how we wanted or hoped for or expected. But he did. Some may argue. Some may say the Lord caused this or ignored us. But the truth is, undeniably in His Word, that he answers and he cares and sometimes, sometimes, we will not understand. His ways are not our ways. Every good gift is from the Lord. But in this broken world, we will have trouble.

He did not turn away when we needed him most. He actually sat with us in the pain. He suffered along with our sweet boy. He carried us through each miscarriage. He knew hunger like our daughter. Abandonment and loneliness like our son. He knew our foster son as he grew in his mother’s womb. He knows the thoughts of death and dying and fears and nightmares of all of us. And he is still good. You will not change my mind.

But I will tell you, after losing Thao, I found it hard to pray. I found it hard to ask. I found it hard to expect good things. Because I was afraid of losing more. I was afraid of other people losing faith if I shared what I was asking for. I was afraid to be let down. Again.

When Thao died at first it felt like mercy. He was no longer suffering. He was perfect and with his Maker. But then as time went on it felt like God had let me down. And honestly, as a “good” Christian, I didn’t know what to do with that. So I didn’t pray. At least I didn’t ask God for things. I thanked him for the blessings. I found the good. I felt his presence. But I didn’t ask. I didn’t feel like I deserved anything more.

Finally, after a few years I began to ask again. But without expectation. I asked for God to answer, but I prepared myself for the answer I didn’t want.

But He did answer. He answered with my children coming home. He answered with Luca.

So then, I asked the Lord, how do I pray? What do I say? How can I even ask for more? I feel as though you’ve blessed me so much, surely this is all the good for me. What will happen next? Why am I so greedy? Lord, when I come to you, what do you want from me? What do you want me to say?

And as a good, good Father, he gently pressed upon my heart, beloved, just come. Come to me. Ask. Sit in my presence. Yell or cry or scream or sing, but please come.

So I did. I came to him I began prayer walks around our property. I asked him what to say and I’d pray whatever he laid on my heart. Sometimes I only said “yes, Lord” over and over and over. Sometimes I prayed scripture. Sometimes a worship song. Sometimes a written prayer. Sometimes I was just silent. And sometimes I yelled or cried or sang. Sometimes it was praise and sometimes it’s lament. Sometimes I go big and sometimes small.

But the point is, I came to him. As a daughter comes to a good father. As a child to his mother. He just wants us near to him. So when I didn’t have the words to pray, I prayed anyway. With borrowed words or tears. With scribbles or mumbling or incoherent praise. I just prayed.

And he answered. And he answers. Every.single.time.

So if you don’t have the words to pray, let others pray for you. Borrow their words. Read scripture aloud. Sing the worship music. Get alone. Sit in the silence. Walk in nature. Bow down.