The Prayer Ride

Waking up in the morning to pray, have a quiet time with God, seek his face about the day had always been a big challenge for the past few years. It has been one excuse or another. Back in school, it was either the morning lecture rush or the early morning assignment submissions. Now that I’m a grown up with a job, things seem to be getting worse. I always spend the morning saying my routine short prayers like “thank you father for this morning, my day is in your hands; bless this food in Jesus name. Amen”, and that would be it. If I got lucky or felt too guilty seeing the open heavens app on my phone, I got to read. I was pathetic. I got better later and tried to study in the night before bed but there was still a vacuum that could not be filled. I still felt the need to communicate in a more conducive manner.

However, all along I knew my problem. It was SLEEP and lack of discipline, no alarm seems to work well enough. I am not the “short-nap” person and therefore don’t joke with the hours I got in the night; although rather inexcusable. I knew I needed help and longed for a nice talk with my father but waking up early enough for that seemed just impossible

Then Monday morning came, it was one of those days that saying “good morning Jesus” never came to mind. As always, I rushed the dress-up and sped off in my car. I was closed to the office gate when I felt my leg muscles cram up; in a twinkle of an eye, I lost control and hit the gate pillar hard. The 30 seconds it took the gateman to pull me out of the car seemed like forever, I didn’t know if I was dead or alive. I was immediately admitted. Just when I thought I was fully recovered, I got the shocker: the doctor walked into the ward the ordeal of a certain complication which might imply a likely amputation of one of my limbs.

“No! No!…….. Oh No! this can’t be happening” I wailed and cried.

“No.. No”, Tade, my flat-mate  slapped me out of my dreams and told me to stop disturbing his short nap. With a pounding heart I looked beneath the blanket to check for my legs, they were still intact but the dream felt too real, all I could say was “THANK YOU JESUS”. I was terrified and this time I knew exactly what to do. I went on kneels and for while I could say nothing but cry. I knew mercy called for me.

The shock therapy got me jumping out of bed at odd hours to read my bible and the fear extended my prayers. All through this, the famous Proverb 3:5 which said “trust in the lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding” kept popping into my heart and this gave me the consolation that I wasn’t alone, and the assurance that he was ready to help me.

By time the shock vanished, but I had cultivated a relationship I will never let go of. More so, as I trusted in his help, he also supplied Grace.  It had a huge positive effect on my day; I was more cheerful, peaceful, joyful and optimistic. I still sleep in a few times, but I’m sure it’s going to be a smooth ‘prayer-ride’ pretty soon.



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