I’m all outta lyrics. I don’t know what to pray anymore. I’m saying the same things over and over. I just repeat myself and repeat myself. I’m like a scratched record that’s stuck in the same spot.
I pray for everyone and everything all the time. Sometimes I change things up and start from the bottom of my list and go backwards. But honestly . . . how many different ways is there to pray for health, prosperity, and peace? Peace amongst nations and leaders of nations and families and coworkers and friends and neighbors? How many different ways can I ask for strength and discernment and guidance? How many times can I ask for help in paying off my bills and getting a raise or a promotion? I’m thinking He’s sorta tired of hearing from me. I’m sorta tired of hearing from me.
Sometimes, when I’m really over myself and I have no words to say, I stop praying and just say, “God, you know what’s up. You already know what I’m thinking before I even think it. You already know what’s in my heart before it even settles there. You already know. So rather than use up anymore oxygen, how about we just sit in silence? How about we just be?” I think He appreciates my honesty.
After all, He’s got lots of others who are talking to Him at the same time I am. I know He’s a multitasker. I know He’s everywhere and all powerful. I’m sure He really doesn’t get tired of hearing me. But sometimes . . . I’m just all prayed out. I’m outta lyrics. I’m outta ideas. I’m outta things to say and think and do and understand. My well is dry. There’s only so many ways to say so many of the same things without sounding redundant and repetitive. Without sounding whiny. Without sounding beggy.
I’m sure I don’t bore Him. But I bore myself. My ears hurt from hearing myself whine. I’m tired of hearing my own thoughts, even if He’s not. I’m all outta lyrics. I’ve got no new songs to sing. I’ve got no new speeches to make. I’ve got no new thoughts to think. And I’m thinking He knows this. He already knows my brain is fried and I can’t cook up one more way to say the same things to Him.
I know He enjoys when I come to Him. I know He loves when I confide in Him. I know that anytime I speak with Him, even if I’m just talking about my day or my feelings or asking His opinion . . . He enjoys that. I know He doesn’t get tired of me. And I know that even if I’m tired of hearing myself and I feel like I’m all prayed out, I still have to pray. I still have to talk to Him. I know it’s what He wants.
So, I guess I’ll just keep praying and talking and whining to Him. I’ll keep complaining and venting and asking Him. But I hope He knows that when I don’t have anything left to say, He’s gotta pick apart my heart, because the words are embedded deep down in there, somewhere.
