I remember my Grandma having a small plaque that had these three words on; I read it every time I went into her kitchen and sat with her. She lived just down the road, so I would be there at some point on most days.
I’ve always been interested in words and letters, so it wasn’t long before I’d shuffled the letters round in my head and ‘things’ became ‘nights’. Prayer changes nights. When things seemed dark and bleak and I couldn’t sleep, I found that prayer changed my bad nights. My mother, even now, when she can’t sleep, will imagine her church congregation in their places on Sunday and pray for each one until she falls asleep.
Another word I discovered in ‘things’ is ‘sing’. I find myself singing when I pray to God – maybe not recognisable hymns but rejoicing and praising God for all He is and all He has done.
Thirdly, ‘sigh’ is there. When things get tough in life, so tough there aren’t words to describe the depth of feeling, I just sit and sigh to God. Just recently, I was asked to give a definition of prayer. I found my hands automatically clasped my middle. More and more it feels like prayer comes from there – somewhere deep in my being, maybe it’s the ‘groaning in prayer’ that Paul speaks of in his letters. Prayer doesn’t have to be eloquent words or joined up themes and thoughts, it’s just me and God.
Yes, prayer changes things on many levels. Moreover, prayer changes me.
It changes ‘me’ to ‘em-‘ and that prefix is about being part of something else, inclusion, abiding. Prayer brings me under God’s wing.
Prayer changes.