My friend has a lovely house nestled in the trees near a swiftly moving river.
Visiting there this weekend, I sat and watched as the water moved past, never stopping, always traveling.
The back yard has branches that canopy over the ground, filtering the setting sun with a warm glow that travels through windows onto the walls within her home.
A chair sits in the yard, inviting.
Almost as if to say, “Come, sit awhile.”
Solitary places, devoid of the rush-rush, hurry-hurry business of life allow quiet moments that can be filled with prayer.
With distractions reduced to the chirping of birds and the occasional scamper of an inquisitive squirrel, listening for God’s voice becomes easier.
Jesus went to places like this to pray, as we see in this account of His healing of an afflicted man:
And it came to pass, when he was in a certain city, behold a man full of leprosy: who seeing Jesus fell on his face, and besought him, saying, Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean.
And he put forth his hand, and touched him, saying, I will: be thou clean. And immediately the leprosy departed from him.
And he charged him to tell no man: but go, and shew thyself to the priest, and offer for thy cleansing, according as Moses commanded, for a testimony unto them.
But so much the more went there a fame abroad of him: and great multitudes came together to hear, and to be healed by him of their infirmities.
And He withdrew Himself into the wilderness, and prayed.
Whether I am sitting near a river, sitting alone in my car or sitting alone in my home, I can pray.
I can talk to God.
I can also listen for what He has to say to me.
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