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" If God is composing a story with our lives, then our lives are no longer static. We aren’t paralyzed by life; we can hope. Many Christians give in to a quiet cynicism that leaves us unknowingly paralyzed. We see the world as monolithic, frozen. To ask God for change confronts us with our doubt about whether prayer makes any difference. Is change even possible? Doesn’t God control everything? If so, what’s the point? Because it is uncomfortable to feel our unbelief, to come face-to-face with our cynicism, we dull our souls with the narcotic of activity. Many Christians haven’t stopped believing in God; we have just become functional deists, living with God at a distance. We view the world as a box with clearly defined edges. But as we learn to pray well, we’ll discover that this is my Father’s world. Because my Father controls everything, I can ask, and he will listen and act. Since I am his child, change is possible—and hope is born. "
― Paul E. Miller , A Praying Life: Connecting with God in a Distracting World
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" But Jesus is all about hope. Watch what he says before he helps these people. Before he heals a blind man, he tells his disciples that “this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him” (John 9:3, NIV). Before he raises the widow of Nain’s son, he tells her, “Weep not” (Luke 7:13, KJV), reversing the ancient Jewish funeral dirge, “Weep, all that are bitter of heart.” When Jairus tells Jesus that his daughter is dead, Jesus says, “Do not fear; only believe” (Luke 8:50). Before Jesus heals a crippled woman, he tells her, “Woman, you are freed from your disability” (Luke 13:12). In each of these accounts, Jesus brings hope before he heals. He is not a healing machine—he touches people’s hearts, healing their souls before he heals their bodies. "
― Paul E. Miller , A Praying Life: Connecting with God in a Distracting World
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" This isn’t just a random observation about how parents respond to little children. This is the gospel, the welcoming heart of God. God also cheers when we come to him with our wobbling, unsteady prayers. Jesus does not say, “Come to me, all you who have learned how to concentrate in prayer, whose minds no longer wander, and I will give you rest.” No, Jesus opens his arms to his needy children and says, “Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28, NASB). The criteria for coming to Jesus is weariness. Come overwhelmed with life. Come with your wandering mind. Come messy. "
― Paul E. Miller , A Praying Life: Connecting with God in a Distracting World
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" God takes everyone he loves through a desert. It is his cure for our wandering hearts, restlessly searching for a new Eden. Here’s how it works. The first thing that happens is we slowly give up the fight. Our wills are broken by the reality of our circumstances. The things that brought us life gradually die. Our idols die for lack of food. That is what happened to Emily in Guatemala. That is what happened to Jill with Kim. The still, dry air of the desert brings the sense of helplessness that is so crucial to the spirit of prayer. You come face-to-face with your inability to live, to have joy, to do anything of lasting worth. Life is crushing you. Suffering burns away the false selves created by cynicism or pride or lust. You stop caring about what people think of you. The desert is God’s best hope for the creation of an authentic self. Desert life sanctifies you. You have no idea you are changing. You simply notice after you’ve been in the desert awhile that you are different. Things that used to be important no longer matter. For instance, before Kim was born, we used to have one of the kids comb the fringes of the living-room rug so it was perfect. Now we are lucky to find a comb for our own hair. After a while you notice your real thirsts. While in the desert David writes, O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. PSALM 63:1 The desert becomes a window to the heart of God. He finally gets your attention because he’s the only game in town. You cry out to God so long and so often that a channel begins to open up between you and God. When driving, you turn off the radio just to be with God. At night you drift in and out of prayer when you are sleeping. Without realizing it, you have learned to pray continuously. The clear, fresh water of God’s presence that you discover in the desert becomes a well inside your own heart. The best gift of the desert is God’s presence. We see this in Psalm 23. In the beginning of the psalm, the Shepherd is in front of me—“he leads me beside still waters” (verse 2); at the end he is behind me—“goodness and faithful love will pursue me” (verse 6, HCSB); but in the middle, as I go through “the valley of the shadow of death,” he is next to me—“I will fear no evil, for you are with me” (verse 4). The protective love of the Shepherd gives me the courage to face the interior journey. YOU CRY OUT TO GOD SO LONG AND SO OFTEN THAT A CHANNEL BEGINS TO OPEN UP BETWEEN YOU AND GOD. "
― Paul E. Miller , A Praying Life: Connecting with God in a Distracting World
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" Our modern, secular world has removed the Shepherd from Psalm 23. Look what happens to the psalm when you remove the Good Shepherd and everything he does: The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever. PSALM 23:1-6, NIV "
― Paul E. Miller , A Praying Life: Connecting with God in a Distracting World
