april 2012
CityLight.org
5
W
hen I was a little girl we used to go
to my paternal grandmother's home
for Sunday Morning prayer before church.
I remember how emotional and sometime
frightening it would become. I got the im-
pression that prayer was a lot of loud talking,
crying and was very emotional. There was so
much I didn't understand. I was curious yet
afraid of the Holy Spirit, thinking that he
would just come upon me and force me to
act a certain way or to be out of control. I
can remember thinking, since God was up
in heaven, you had to speak loudly so he
could hear you. I wanted to know. I had so
many questions. My grandmother told me
that prayer was
c o m m u n i o n
with God. As a
child I looked
for a quiet place
to commune
with God. It
was that experi-
ence that gave
me the desire
to know more
about Him,
Jesus and the
Holy Spirit.
I have always
been excited
about the Bible.
I loved the stories we read in vacation bible
school. One of the highlights for fifth graders
at my elementary school was receiving a gift of
our very own new testament Bible. Each year
the Gideons would visit our school and hand
out New Testament Bibles to all fifth graders.
That bright red Bible was my treasure because
in my home the family bible was a sacred
book for the adults only. Children were not
allowed to play with the Bible. I would take
my little red Bible out into the back yard, lie
on my back and read for hours. Gazing into
the blue sky with white fluffy clouds wonder-
ing if God was watching me.
In reading that new testament, I developed
a habit of talking and listening to God, not
asking for anything just communicating with
Him about whatever was on my heart or on
my mind. God is a very good listener. I did all
the talking. The result was a stronger deeper
desire to know Him better. I needed to un-
derstand this thing, called prayer. I knew it
was so much more than a group of people
getting together on Sunday morning to pray.
Please don't misunderstand, we prayed at
bedtime and before meals, which to me was
just a formality.
We also prayed
when someone
was hurting, in
trouble or need-
ed something.
These prayers
seemed lifeless.
Something was
missing.
My father was
a man of prayer.
He could raise
the roof and I
loved hearing
him pray. His
mother taught
him how to pray and the importance of a
prayer life. He taught me to pray. What I re-
member most are his quiet prayers. I would
hear him praying when he thought he was
alone with the Lord. It was his prayers while
reading the Word, crying out to God, that
made a difference in my life. His intimate
relationship with God was crucial and that
is what had an impact on me. I learned from
him a commitment to a prayerful life. I began
to understand what my grandmother meant
Continued on pg 14
My Passion for Prayer
by: Luella Redfern