It was the kitchen that we snuck into to munch sugar cubes and stir up clandestine kool aid as church teens during my family’s ultra-health food phase. Surrounded by gravestones, a line of towering fir trees, and the best green apple tree you ever climbed up into with a book, the tiny blue and white country church stood beside the road for over a hundred years. In this sparkling white kitchen, six or seven of us gangly, spiked nineties-bangs-girls perched self-consciously on metal folding chairs for middle school Sunday School. Bonnie Konsor brought doughnuts or baked goods and taught us God’s word each week.
Many of those lessons have faded away, but one thing stands vividly clear to me. Throughout the lessons, whenever Bonnie Konsor prayed, her lips turned up into mischievous smiles with the Godhead. As she took turns talking to the Creator, the smile in her voice spilled out so fiercely that I often popped open my eyes to wonder what joke I was missing. Eyes tightly shut, she grinned lovingly and listened to her God, then smiled some more and answered him back.
I was struck with the intimacy and affection she so obviously had with her Creator, and it endeared him to me all the more. This was a God with whom one could share private jokes, exchange affectionate smiles, and laugh together in the dark.
Now, while praying, I pause, think of his face and love for me, and grin back in silence. This God is smiling at you too. You delight him.
I love getting to know you and appreciate learning from you. What adds intimacy to your prayer life? Who has impacted your view of prayer over the years? (If you are commenting through from email, click here.)