I just found out that yesterday was my country’s National Day of Prayer. The occasion, once widely covered by the media, is now a side story at best. But no matter. For believers, every day is a day of prayer.
I often say, “I am a writer” because that is something I do with great passion. I’m less inclined to say, “I am a weed plucker” or “I am a shower taker” because, even though those are things I do, they are not what I’m about.
But even more than writing, even more than being a husband or a father, I am about following Jesus. God is not one of the things in my life, he is the thing. More accurately, he is the focus of my life. Everything I do—writing, filmmaking, husbanding, fathering—is about knowing him.
Hey, he started it.
Forty-two years ago, sensing that God might just exist and might just be pursuing me (he was), I began reading Scripture. My first big Aha was the verse, “This is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent” (John 17:3). Forget being “religious,” Jesus was saying–as he summed up why he came–that life is about knowing God. (“Eternal life,” in the original Greek, means much more than mere “unending life,” it means something more like “true life,” life as it was created to be.)
And so I said my first halting prayer, something like, “OK, if you’re really there, I want to know you. In fact, I don’t want to go another day without knowing you. So here I am. I’m yours.”
God took me up on it. He honored that prayer, and he’s honored every prayer since. Not necessarily by doing what I say (he’s pretty insistent about being the one in charge), but by listening, and if I listen, by showing me what he wants me to do. Oh, yeah, and he loves the hell out of me. Literally.
I’m still not religious. Never was, never will be. But despite that, for me, every day is
A day of prayer.