WHEN PRAYER BECAME REAL

By Paula Lube

As I think about my prayer life over the years, I fondly remember the prayers of my childhood.

Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest. Let these gifts to us be blessed.

Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my “soldier” keep. (As a kid, I thought, What? I get my own soldier?)

No, I didn’t quite understand it all, but these simple prayers helped me begin voicing my own conversations with God. Thankfully, my parents were excellent models. My dad was so excited about his faith that he was only too happy to pray with others. His prayers were a delight to listen to, filled with praise and thanksgiving, and “favors” he would unabashedly ask of the Lord.

My mom, on the other hand, was a quiet woman, comfortable being behind the scenes, serving her husband, her five children, and her Christian family at large. Each night she faithfully listened to her children’s prayers, often giving us a little guidance along the way. But I never heard her own heartfelt prayers or realized their depth until I was about twenty years old.

It was then that I was due to start my first job as a graphic designer at an ad agency. All I needed was a place to live. I was happy when Mom volunteered to help me find an apartment, so we ventured out to look for one. The day started early with a 3 ½ hour drive to “the big city”. Armed with a newspaper, a notepad, and a pocket of quarters for the payphone, we began calling and touring.

After hours of searching, we found nothing suitable. Even the unfurnished units were beyond my modest budget, and time was slipping away, turning the excitement I felt at the beginning of the day into anxiety.

I looked at Mom. “What am I going to do?” She didn’t reply for a moment. Then, she simply pulled the car over and said, “Let’s pray.” This was something I didn’t see coming. I knew she prayed, I knew she believed. But I hadn’t heard many of her prayers. And did she really expect an answer so quickly?

I listened to Mom’s words, “Dear Father, we know You love and look after us. Will You please provide an apartment for Paula. You know our needs. Amen.” Then, without a hint of further concern in her voice, she said, “Ok, let’s get something to eat.” I marveled at her composure.

As Mom put the car in gear and rounded the corner to go to lunch, we passed a cute little house. In the front yard was a sign that read, “Apartment for rent.” This hadn’t been listed in the newspaper, and we hadn’t noticed it before. It seemingly just appeared! I quickly jotted down the phone number from the sign, and we drove to a nearby restaurant. Once our food was ordered, I called and found out that yes, it was furnished, yes, the rate was exactly what we had in mind, and yes, they’d be happy to give us a tour after lunch.

Within minutes of meeting the landlords, we realized they were very caring people. That alone spoke to our hearts. But God didn’t stop there. This apartment wasn’t just furnished—it was charming and homey, perfectly suited for a young woman striking out on her own. God had provided beyond what my mother and I even dared to ask.

Finding that little place became part of my story. God’s presence and provision met me in a very real, very practical way that day, and I carry that lesson with me today!

When and how did prayer become real for you?

What lessons have you learned along the way to encourage others to pray without ceasing? We would love to hear your story! Simply email it to Arnie.Cole@bttb.org