Growing up in a home that was irreligious (not anti-Christian, just no evidence of faith lived out), the practices of faith were never expressed in a way that I would catch them. Prayer was not an everyday practice except for the mealtime ritual speed mumbling of “Come Lord Jesus, be our guest. And let these gifts to us be blessed. Amen”. We usually said that so fast that I don’t know if I really knew what I was praying until I just wrote them above. It sounded more like, “Comelordjesus be-r-guest andletthesegiftstousbeblessed. Amen.”
Needless to say, the power of this prayer was probably lost in translation. When I came to a personal relationship with Christ at the ripe age of 17, I began to understand the part Prayer played (and plays) in a relationship with God.
A couple of months ago while home from college, my daughter and I spent a lunch together on one of our periodic dates. It was a great time to catch up with her and live in her world for a few hours. I have missed hearing the regular details of her life during her freshman year. You know, the personal details that spill out over dinner or in car rides to church. Our conversation ebbed and flowed. Then, during one of those pregnant pauses that mark every good conversation, I snatched the opportunity to buzz-kill a light discussion. I thought all dads did that ;). I never miss the opportunity to “teach” a life lesson, much to the chagrin of my children. “So, honey, as you look back on our days together as a family, are their things that I’ve done as a dad that you wish I hadn’t done or would have done differently or would change now?” Door opened. And she entered. Continue reading →