see-through prayers

Sometimes, early in the morning when the sun’s rays are just beginning to stream through the stained glass, I come to the altar. I know I can pray anywhere, that God’s sense of hearing is not confined to a sanctuary. But here, I find something reverent in the stillness and the solitude.

 

Out of habit and respect, I take off my shoes. I remember Moses’ encounter with God at the burning bush and that of his apprentice, Joshua, standing face-to-face with the commander of heaven’s army. “Take off your sandals,” they were told. “[F]or you are standing on holy ground,” and, “the place where you are standing is holy (Exodus 3:5, Joshua 5:15; NLT). Shoeless, I stand before God; I’m not walking away from him.

 

Next, I drop my satchel. It houses my laptop, flash drive, planner, and notes. It represents my work – not only what I do for a living but, more broadly, my labors for the Kingdom. Yet, here with God, all of those are secondary. He is my provider, so I need not think of how the bills will be paid. (If I have my wallet, I drop that, too). And in his eyes, my exertions are not nearly as important as my heart.

 

Reaching into my left pocket, my cell phone is next to go – and with it, all of the text messages and phone calls that will be sent and received today. At this moment, I am speaking with the Creator of the universe; any other conversation can, for a few moments, be put on hold.

 

My keys are in the other pocket, and I take them out, too. Those keys open many doors, both within the church and outside of it. One might rightly say they represent my authority. But for now, the only door I need to walk through is the one leading into God’s presence, and I require no other power than that which he offers: “So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God. There we will receive his mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it” (Hebrews 4:16, NLT).

 

Finally, I remove my sunglasses. They are both functional and fashionable, protecting my eyes from the sun’s radiation and offering me that “cool youth pastor” look. But in the light of God’s radiance, the sun pales in comparison; no polarized lens can shade my eyes from his brilliance. And bowing before him, my trendiness is but a pretense; he sees past trends and into the depths of my soul.

 

For a few all-too-brief moments, before facing the grind of daily life and ministry, all is well with my world. Alone with God, divested of earthly status symbols, I am where I was always meant to be. This is home. And someday, I will shed these veneers for good. But for now, I steal a few moments to be alone with God in the morning.