“The best style of prayer is that which cannot be called anything else but a cry.”
It’s the end of an overnight getaway, and I’m half way through the journey home when this little church on the banks of Loch Awe captures my attention. I pull over at the side of the road and start to explore. Walking around I feel the weight of history: the saints who have worshipped and prayed in the place continually for over a hundred years.
And then I see it.
The sight that brings me to my knees.
A kneeling board, used for prayer, worn away.
Years of prayer.
Of crying out.
Of longing for God to move.
Answered. Unanswered. Big. Small. Significant. Insignificant.
Every prayer heard by the Father.
Every prayer a doxology in the darkness.
“To be grateful for an unanswered prayer, to give thanks in a state of interior desolation, to trust in the love of God in the face of the marvels, cruel circumstances, obscenities, and commonplaces of life is to whisper a doxology in the darkness.”