Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
PHILIPPIANS 4:4–7
My normal morning routine included a fair amount of exercise, and this morning’s events had blown “normal” right out the window. Our conversation in the garden had been so riveting, I had not noticed my lack of activity until I shifted in my chair and felt a twinge of stiffness. I rose and moved to the edge of the patio, indulging in a long, luxurious stretch, and oh, it felt good! I looked through my fingertips as they reached toward the sky and marveled at the view. The sky was a pristine, cerulean blue, and the green leaves of the trees glistened with a silver reflection of the brilliant sun.
I had come to think of these trees as my gentle giants, reaching their branches high up into the sky. As a breeze rustled through the treetops, these giants swayed gently back and forth, and I was moved by how they looked as if they were raising their great arms in prayer. Their movements made a whispering sound, like the exhalation of a long, soft sigh. I wondered what prayers or praises they were offering to their Creator. Maybe they were thanking God for another day of life in this beautiful world.
Margaret joined me and matched the direction of her gaze with mine. “Wonderful, isn’t it? Even these great trees joyfully communicate with their Maker.”
I looked at her sharply. She seemed to know what I had been thinking!
Margaret laughed. “All of creation speaks to God. And you, child, are no exception. As you have just described, you sensed God’s presence and experienced his presence as a young girl. And as I watched you grow up, I was overjoyed to observe you seek God in a new way. You began to speak to him.”
“I did,” I agreed. “It wasn’t easy at first, but then I found someone who helped me.”
Margaret smiled and held out both hands to me. “Before you tell me about that part of your life, would you join hands with me for a quick prayer?”
I nodded and took her hands in mine. I closed my eyes and waited for her to begin. The breeze swirled playfully around us, and again I detected the faint scent of roses.
In her clear voice, Margaret prayed, “God, come close. Come quickly! Open your ears—it’s my voice you’re hearing! Treat my prayer as sweet incense rising; my raised hands are my evening prayers.”
“Oh, that was beautiful,” I exclaimed, touched by these sweet words.
“It is beautiful, Jenn. It is the beginning of The Message’s translation of Psalm one hundred forty one, a prayer written by our beloved King David. I thought it fitting for this next part of your story, which I want to hear about as soon as we sit back down.”
I thought to myself, I wonder if Margaret knows King David? I can only imagine how amazing it would be to sit at his feet and listen to his wonderful prayers.
As soon as we settled into our chairs, Margaret spoke. “So tell me, Jennifer, about how you began to speak to your Creator. I watched this all unfold, but I want to hear the story from your perspective.”
I grinned and began to tell my friend about how I began to speak to God. This was a story I loved to tell.
“I have always been a voracious reader, and one day in my early teens, I stumbled upon a magazine article written by the Reverend Billy Graham about prayer. His article talked about how important prayer is in the lives of God’s people, and he said that prayer needs to be an ongoing dialogue between you and God. I was riveted by this statement. Prayer was something I did before going to bed, and my prayers were not very personal or sophisticated. They pretty much consisted of ‘Now I lay me down to sleep’ with a few thank-yous and blessings mixed in. And, admittedly, many nights I just plain forgot to say my prayers.
“As I read, I thought to myself: An ongoing dialogue? Would God listen to me if I talked to him during the day? ”
I paused for a moment and gazed at Margaret. She was nodding her head, trying very hard not to say a word.
“Reverend Graham’s article really bothered me because I felt that maybe God wanted me to be communicating with him more, and I was not doing what he wanted. And I could not pray in the beautiful prayer language our minister used in church. My prayers sounded childlike compared to his. How could I talk with God, the Creator of the universe, the great I AM, without being able to use the grown-up, flowery language of prayer I was used to hearing? After contemplating this for a day or so, I got out pen and paper and proceeded to write a letter to Reverend Graham.
“My letter was very straightforward. I asked Reverend Graham how to pray so that God would listen to me. I mailed my letter with a great sense of anticipation, and then I waited . . . and waited.
“Time passed, and I completely forgot about my letter. My teenage girl mind was otherwise occupied by boys and the music heartthrobs David Cassidy, Donny Osmond, and Bobby Sherman. Then one day my mother entered my bedroom with a rather amazed look on her face. She held up an envelope and said, ‘Jennifer, you have a letter from Billy Graham!’
“Wow! I did indeed have a response from Reverend Graham. He thanked me for my letter and for my thoughtful question. In his response he explained that prayer was something everyone could do, children and adults alike. ‘All you have to do,’ he wrote, ‘is to talk to God like he is your friend. Just tell him whatever is in your heart. Don’t worry about using fancy words. He loves you and wants to hear from you.’ I asked myself, Could it really be that simple?
“It took some practice, mostly to remember to pray, but I began that very day talking to God as if he were my friend. And I discovered that Reverend Graham’s advice really was simple. I gave God thanks for the things I had, the people I loved, and asked him for help with the problems I had—some silly school stuff, and some not so silly stuff.
“When I was fourteen, my grandfather, a physician, noticed a lump in my neck and talked to my father, also a physician, about it. I ended up seeing a surgeon who recommended surgery because it might be cancer. My mother had recently lost her best friend to breast cancer, so the word ‘cancer’ and the thought of possibly having it scared the living daylights out of me. I was so glad to be able to talk to God about it, and I did, a lot. The night before I had to go to the hospital, I lay in my pretty little twin bed and prayed. I was really scared, and yet a wonderful peace came over me while I prayed. It felt as if someone had their arms around me, and I knew I would be okay, no matter what the outcome was. I was actually able to go to sleep that night. The surgery went on as scheduled, and doctors successfully removed a benign growth from my thyroid gland. No cancer.
“What helped me the most was being able to talk to God through the whole process, and I began to have an assurance that he was listening. I owe my heartfelt thanks to Reverend Graham for taking the time to answer a young girl’s question. It made a monumental difference in my life.”
Margaret sat very still for a moment and then looked at me, her blue eyes misting with tears. “It did make a monumental difference, Jennifer, because once you learned how to pray with the assurance that God was listening to you, you were ready to learn two-way communication with the Almighty—to learn how to listen to him. You were very fortunate indeed to have had the guidance of Billy Graham. He has used his anointing well and has prayerfully led millions of souls to the throne of our precious Lord. And, child, no one knows better than our Lord the value of prayer. While Jesus was here on earth, he relied on prayer to keep in constant touch with his Heavenly Father.
“So, my dear girl, as you began to talk to our Father in heaven with heartfelt innocence and expectation, he was whispering back to you. Listen closely . . . he has never stopped whispering this prayer:
“I love to hear from you, my beloved child. I am always listening, hoping to hear your sweet voice. From your lips to my heart.”
A wistful sigh escaped Margaret’s lips as she continued. “How I wish all of God’s children knew how dearly he wants to hear from them each day. His heart longs to hear from his beloved, no matter what time of the day or night.”
Margaret smiled at me, and as she did, I began to detect the scent of white roses in the air again.
“I am going to leave you for a while and let you get on with your day. After all, it is your birthday. Go celebrate with your friends. I expect you will have lots to tell them.” She winked knowingly.
Disappointment seeped into my heart.
Margaret sensed my disappointment and gave me an amused look. “Oh my, don’t worry, Jenn. I am not nearly through with you yet. We have much, much more to discuss. Have a wonderful day, and I will return here at sunset. Will you meet me out here then?”
“Of course I will,” I replied.
“Until tonight, then.” She blew me a kiss and walked out into the backyard, her gown shimmering until she disappeared into thin air.
I stood and stared for a moment at the space Margaret had just occupied, missing her already. I have always longed for the hours of my birthday to stretch out endlessly, wanting to savor every moment. But today I could hardly wait for nightfall.