God, please …
I have a thousand words to say to you. Ten thousand unfinished fragments all locked in my head, all waiting for you to pick them out and examine them, analyze them, answer them individually. I know I could just spill them out, but they don't fall so easily.
I want to talk to you, God. Want to listen, to know you. But I don't know how to begin. I want to pray to you. Want to pray without stopping—no pausing, no fumbling—but I don't even know how to begin.
All I seem to be able to say is a feeble, "God, please … " that I never complete.
And yet that "God, please" is the ache of my soul. I'm unable to finish, but all I want is to get close to you, to turn your head. To know you are listening to me, even though I cannot see you.
So should I constantly chatter to catch your attention? Or are my two words enough?
I have so many other thoughts stashed in my head, but if I let you hear them, would you listen? Could you, who are perfect, understand my faltering, imperfect speech?
That's what I'm really afraid of, you know. I'm afraid you want to hear eloquent soliloquies, and I don't have anything but my poor stuttering tongue.
So God, please … show me where to go with my words when I cannot find the right words to say.
Because I do want to know you. More than anything.
… The Spirit helps us in our weakness.
We do not know what we ought to pray
for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us
with groans that words cannot express.
The Lord has heard my cry for mercy,
the Lord accepts my prayer.
1999 by the author or Christianity Today/Campus Life magazine. For reprint information call 630-260-6200.