For the last couple of nights as I kneeled to pray, my analytical side stepped to the side to examine the situation. It observed my posture and analyzed my words, critiqued my structure and mused at my stance. I had an epiphany of sorts. Well not really since it’s nothing too shocking and something I and many others have already discovered. So no maybe not an epiphany, but a thought. Anyway, I examined my relationships with my parents and my siblings and my friends. And I put those results on a scale against my relationship with God.

Something felt off.

When I viewed myself there in prayer with Him, everything felt a bit staged, like I was performing a skit I had practiced many times before. It was distant and formal. The words of my prayer fell out of my mouth with no meaning or weight. They were the words I knew to say, the words I thought needed to be said. Like reciting a poem, I spewed my thanks to God and laid out my requests just as I had the the night before. I capped it off with my usual reference to Jesus my Savior and quickly hopped in the bed for sleep.

But tonight was a little different. As I kneeled there at the side of my bed and began to recite the initial words of my signature monologue, something hit me.

I imagined God in front of me (something I have done before). But something felt strange. As God the Father, Jesus the Son and the Holy Spirit sat before me, I thought to myself, “Wait a minute. This isn’t a trial or some sort of briefing. This is my conversation with God. So why does everything feel so formal and well… awkward?”

Awkward. That’s what it was. That’s what I was. I was shooting off prayer requests and thanksgiving as if I were delivering a message not talking to someone close to me.

So I stopped. Mid-monologue, half breathed, I stopped. And I looked earnestly at the Father I imagined sitting before me. And I started chatting.

I explained to Him what I was thankful for rather than just telling him. I told Him how I was really thankful for all the ways he has shown me his love. And then I broke off on a tangent about how I don’t understand his love, how I don’t understand a love that so deep that nothing can shake it. I confessed that I didn’t think I would ever understand. And I thanked him for it anyway. I went on talking to him about tomorrow, what I was expecting and what I was hoping for. I kept going until the end where I acknowledged Jesus’ presence and thanked him too. When I rose from knees, it felt more like I had just hung up the phone after talking to a friend rather than a monologue to a distant Maker of the earth. And I think that’s the difference.

K.J. 9/28/2019