Men ought always to pray, and not to faint.—Luke 18:1 (KJV)

Prayer is a mystery to me. I have friends who seem to have dramatic answers to their prayers all the time, but seldom do I see an obvious answer to my prayers. 

So why do I pray? I pray because “I can’t not pray.” I pray for the same reason I breathe, sigh, groan, walk, talk, sing, laugh. Without the release that prayer gives me, my anxieties and frustrations would soon reach dangerous levels. 

If I had to make an appointment with a doctor every time I was troubled, I would have long ago bankrupted the entire health-care system, singlehandedly. 

But prayer? No appointment necessary. No paperwork, and no copay. I just open my heart to the Great Physician, wherever I am: on the riding mower, working under the car, or speeding down the freeway. 

I know, prayer is no substitute for professional counseling, but the act of praying is healing to me. I can “divulge” things to God and know that He will keep my confidences. I can “wrestle” with God before I yield to His will. I can “brag” to him about my achievements without being accused of pride. 

I’m okay with the mystery of prayer. I don’t have to witness answers to my prayers to know that they have been processed. I trust God to do what is best, on His timetable. 

To me, prayer is less like putting coins in a vending machine, and more like a very powerful cell phone, built into my head, that can reach heaven on a moment’s notice, without dialing, and with unlimited minutes. I don’t know where I would be without this Heavenly Phone.