Conversation is an art. Even with God. When I first set myself to seeking Him with all my heart, my prayers were awkward, like a person on a first date.

Over time I have noticed a change I did not expect.  My prayers begin to resemble those recorded in the Bible. I find myself lingering long over sentiments about God’s awesomeness, holiness, mercy, great deeds — and similar things I used to pass over quickly in Paul or Ezekiel as the obligatory, overly pious, and slightly boring prolegomena to the interesting bits in prayer.

More of my dog-walking time than ever is taken up thanking Him. And I didn’t realize how many things He has done for me until I started “counting them one by one,” as the old hymn goes. If thanksgiving is pleasing to God, it is energizing to me. It’s not for His sake but for ours, turns out, that He bids us “enter His gates with thanksgiving.”

Like Moses and Daniel, I find myself wrestling more on the basis of God’s Name (His glory or reputation). I am also thus emboldened to ask more vehemently, because I stand on better footing. The contents of my prayers has changed too. I like the joke about the 6^th grader who handed in his completed geography test, praying, “Dear God, please make Chicago be the capital of Illinois!” But I don’t ask for those things so much anymore because I know better, being a parent myself.

The most interesting change in my prayer life is, unfortunately, ineffable. It is as if the Holy Spirit takes over at some point and does the praying. This is my favorite part, because I still don’t know how to pray as I ought.

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