There’s a lady at our church who has a voice as soft and soothing as flannel. She prays so regularly, she seems radiant from God’s glory. In fact, I feel from her an almost palpable peace flowing from the Holy Spirit with whom she interacts so faithfully and intimately.Just being around her makes me want to pray more. Some days I am so moved by her humble spirit and Christ-glorifying speech, I want to cry.We could be talking about something as earthly as the soup she brought to a pitch-in, and by the time we say our good-byes, I’m itching to log some hours on my knees.When I saw her this past Sunday, that resolve stirred once again:Lord, I want to pray like her. I want to be faithful. Please help this scattered, random, easily distracted daughter of yours interact with you more and more, without ceasing.The next day I was flipping through a book that I was thinking of selling. Before listing it, I found this passage:
During one interview, the children talked about their mother’s devotional time and how much she prayed and studied the Word. The mother was a little surprised that they knew about her prayer time. She had never talked about it much, and she thought they had always been asleep when she had her quiet time.”How did you know about the time I spent praying and studying?””We saw your knee prints in the carpet by the big chair in your bedroom. We saw your Bible open there on the table, and it was worn from use.” (Faulkner 79)
I thought of my friend from church and knew that if I was given access to her home, I would eventually find those knee prints somewhere—in a small closet, next to her bed, near a special chair…maybe everywhere.