When we would have any great things to be accomplished, the best policy is to work by an engine which the world sees nothing of.” – John Preston
When we can’t reach something, where do we usually turn?
To someone who’s taller. Or closer.
To someone whose arm is not too short.
Prayer is asking God to reach for something outside our grasp.
To move where we can’t.
To touch where we are incapable.
To act where all we can do is watch.
Prayer is coming to the One whose arm is never too short.
The God we approach in prayer is a God sitting on a throne—high and lifted up (Isaiah 6:1). Yet our Father who sees in secret and hears in secret and is present with us in secret (Matthew 6).
Prayer is seeking the hand of a God who can move in men’s hearts. Heal the bruised. Touch where we can’t. And protect where we would only crumble.
• We pray to a God who is mighty in our midst (Zephaniah 3:17).
• To a God who shows Himself strong on our behalf (2 Chronicles 16:9).
• To the One who is our only hope and our only trust (Psalm 71:5).
We pray to a God who has a mighty, outstretched arm.
It is nothing for our God to work, to reach, to move (2 Chronicles 14:11)
It is nothing for Him to answer our prayers.
His arm is never too short, and His hand can reach even the tiniest trouble.
And watch God reach His mighty hand long and strong where we never could.
“Behold, the LORD’s hand is not shortened, that it cannot save;
Nor his ear heavy, that it cannot hear.”(Isaiah 59:1)
Look around you! Rather than shocking the globe with an occasional demonstration of deity, God has opted to display his power daily. Proverbially. Pounding waves. Prism-cast colors. Birth, death, life. We’re surrounded by miracles. God is throwing testimonies at us like fireworks, each one exploding, “God is! God is!”
The Psalmist marveled at such holy handiwork. “Where can I go from your Spirit?” he questioned with delight. “Where can I go from your presence? (Psalm 139:7).
We wonder, with so many miraculous testimonies around us, how we could escape God. But somehow we do. We live in an art gallery of divine creativity, and yet are content to gaze only at the carpet.
The next time you hear a baby laugh, take note as His Majesty whispers ever so gently, “I’m here!”
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