“Mommy, can I have some Skittles, pleeeease?” My toddler begged in the grocery store line as she looked up at me with pleading eyes. Through the years, the requests involved sleepovers, kittens, cell phones, ponies, and trips, but the requests were almost always punctuated with an elongated please.
I often do the same thing in my relationship with God. I beg. I plead. I elongate my pleases.
And in my child-like faith, I know He delights in hearing my requests. He invites me to go to Him for everything.
Sometimes my requests sound like the widow with the judge—persistent badgering. Other times, my prayers resemble Naaman’s arrogant demands to be healed his way and in his timing. I’ve also experienced the Gethsemane painful, quiet acceptance of “not my will, but Yours be done.”
I’ve learned that the request isn’t nearly as important as the time I spend yielding my desires, plans, and needs to a faithful God who cares about every intimate detail of my life. And in sharing my vulnerabilities with Him, I am changed. God graciously meets me with each supplication and turns my face toward Him as I whisper my “please.”
