The living archive is loading.
Discovering Prayer as the Engine of Spiritual Formation
Continue exploring
Connected by scripture or shared themes.
Discovering Prayer as the Engine of Spiritual Formation
Continue exploring
Connected by scripture or shared themes.
When I was 19 years old and gave my life to Christ, I was blessed to have a discipler named Eric Mixon who was about 10 years older than me. He took me through a scripture memorization curriculum, and we started with Psalm 119:11: "I have hidden my word in your heart that I might not sin against you." We moved through 2 Corinthians 5:17: "If anyone's in Christ, he's a new creation. Old things have passed away, new things have come." Eventually, we arrived at one of my favorite verses—just two words: 1 Thessalonians 5:17: "Pray continually."
As a new believer at 19, I wondered, "What does Paul really mean by that? How am I supposed to pray continually?" When you look at verses 16–18 together, the challenge becomes even clearer: "Rejoice always, pray continually, in everything give thanks." But here's what's important: Paul is not trying to overwhelm us or set an impossible spiritual standard. There's a real reason he placed those words there. There's a purpose behind them, and every believer should understand and embrace them.
Let me share a story from my high school years. During my senior year, I needed to fill an elective. My dad convinced me to try FFA. I showed up with long hair down to my shoulders and no boots—not exactly FFA material. I didn't last half a day. The guidance counselor then placed me in a different elective: small engines.
I only lasted four days in small engines, but I learned something simple and profound: Without the engine, you're not doing anything. You're not going anywhere. It doesn't matter if it's a weed eater, lawn mower, power washer, or car. Without the engine, nothing happens.
When Paul writes "Pray continually," here's what he wants us to understand: Prayer is the engine that drives our spiritual formation. Throughout our conversation these past weeks about spiritual disciplines, Paul places prayer in the middle of "Rejoice always, pray continually, in everything give thanks" for a reason. That's where prayer belongs—in the middle of everything, always.
If prayer is not part of your life, there won't be much fruit or formation. But here's the good news: you can build this into your life. You can develop a lifestyle, a habit, and a practice where you truly live out Paul's words and pray continually. It requires just a few things.
Prayer is not an action you perform—it's an atmosphere that you exist in. Paul is calling us into deep waters of faith where prayer becomes the very air that we breathe, the steady background rhythm of our lives. Through the Holy Spirit, we can remain in constant, open contact with our heavenly Father.
When adversity hits in the middle of our day, we instinctively ask God for wisdom. When we experience joy or a win, we immediately offer gratitude to our heavenly Father. When we encounter the brokenness of the world around us—in the lives of people we love, coworkers, and neighbors—we pause and pray, "God, help them. God, be with them."
But I want to be careful here. When I say prayer is an atmosphere, not an action, I don't want us to abandon the disciplined habits we've built into our lives. Starting our day with prayer and ending our day with prayer—those structured moments are important. Scripture shows us this pattern repeatedly.
Daniel prayed three times a day: morning, noon, and night. David had similar rhythms. Jesus regularly withdrew to lonely places to pray. Paul constantly emphasized prayer. They had these habits and disciplines built into their lives, but that wasn't all there was. If prayer only happens when your eyes are closed and your hands are folded in a quiet room, you've missed the point. We cannot limit prayer to a time, a place, a position, or a posture.
Think of it like an old AM/FM radio. You had a tuning knob, and you had to dial it in just right to hear the voice on the other end. Scheduled prayer—waking up, opening Scripture, kneeling down to start your day—that's like tuning the knob until you hear the voice of your heavenly Father. You're tuning your heart and spiritual ears to hear from God.
Atmospheric prayer is different. It's turning the volume up and leaving it on in the background of your life all day long. It's both—the spontaneous moments and the built-in discipline. Scheduled prayer tunes our heart to the right frequency. Atmospheric prayer keeps the radio on all day long.
The enemy knows that prayer is the engine. The enemy knows that living for Christ, growing in Him, and building these habits require an active prayer life. So the enemy puts barriers in front of us. In my life—and I think for most of us—there are two really common barriers we face every day: busyness and brokenness.
All of us in this room are busy. Students, you're heading back to school. You've got tutoring, sports, and your parents have things they want you to do. Moms, you've got so much going on. Businesspeople, you're juggling countless responsibilities. We're all busy, busy, busy.
But here's the truth: Prayer does not require your life to slow down.
There's a beautiful story about Susanna Wesley, the mother of the famous evangelist John Wesley. In the 1700s, she had 19 children. No dishwasher, no washing machine, no dryer, no modern conveniences. Nineteen kids. When she wanted and needed to pray, she would sit in her rocking chair and pull her apron over her head. Her children said, "We knew that when the apron was up, Mom was in the Holy of Holies." None of us are too busy to pray.
Prayer is not a reward for when your schedule clears up. It's the anchor that holds you steady while life is moving fast around you. I want to challenge you this week: practice short micro-prayers. Sprinkle them throughout your day.
Here are some examples:
These are micro-prayers. Sprinkle them into your day, in the middle of all the decisions, deadlines, and things you have going on.
Here's what I would say about the barrier of brokenness: Prayer does not require spiritual makeup. We don't have to come to God looking polished or put-together. All of us in this room are broken. All of us are beaten up. All of us are bruised.
Too many of us treat prayer like we're getting ready for a formal event. We think we have to clean up our attitude, wipe away doubts, and find lofty theological words. We try to put on a show. But if you're waiting to talk to God until you feel like you've got it all together, you'll spend your entire life in silence. Our prayers shouldn't be a polished performance. They should flow naturally from the most honest, unfiltered, genuine, real parts of our lives.
God knows anyway. We don't have to put spiritual makeup on to come before our heavenly Father. John Bunyan said it perfectly: "In prayer, it's better to have a heart without words than words without a heart." God is not evaluating your vocabulary when you pray. He's looking at your authenticity. He's looking for your honesty.
A two-word prayer born out of absolute desperation carries infinitely more weight in heaven than a 10-minute monologue filled with lofty theological jargon that you don't even feel in your heart. Here's my encouragement: Stop trying to pray like the person you think you should be and start praying from where you are. Honest. Authentic. Real. You're not too broken to pray. None of us are too far away or too messed up to pray.
Here's the last thing I would say to all of us: Prayer requires us to treasure it as a privilege and to resolve to persevere. Church, if I could say anything to you today, it's this: Don't ever lose your sense of wonder over what prayer actually is. Don't lose the awareness of how precious, supernatural, and sacred a gift prayer is.
Remember, under the old covenant, prayer and coming into the presence of God required blood. It required animal sacrifices, a special priest, and stepping behind a heavy curtain. Ordinary people didn't have access to God. But when Jesus died on the cross, the temple curtain was split straight down the middle from top to bottom. Through our relationship with Christ and through His Holy Spirit, each and every one of us who are Christ followers have direct 24/7 access to the God who created the heavens and the earth. We have access to the Creator of the universe. You don't need an appointment. You don't need a mediator. Through the Holy Spirit living inside of you, you can cry out "Abba Father" at any moment, in any place, at any time.
Prayer is a gift. Because it's a gift, persevere. Don't ever give up in your prayers. I know there are people in this room praying for something specific—something you've been praying about for what feels like an eternity, maybe years and years. I've seen this in my own life over and over again. My mom prayed diligently for my father, who was so far removed from God. She prayed for 25 years. About a year before he passed away, he finally gave his life to Christ and had a beautiful, incredible transformation. Don't give up on the things God has called you to pray for. Keep praying the heavens down. Silence is not absence. A delay is not denial. Keep knocking. Keep seeking. Keep bringing your heart to the Father.
Here's a beautiful truth that rocked me to my core when I studied it this week: We should continue to pray until we come to the world where prayer is swallowed up with praise. There will be a time when we stand before our heavenly Father, see things clearly, and understand that petitions and prayers will cease. When I realized that, I prayed, "Oh God, forgive me for not being more diligent in my prayer life. I want to show up before You on that day used up. I want my prayer life to be spent. God, I don't want to show up and have You say, 'Where was the prayer? That's the engine meant to drive your spiritual formation, and you neglected it.'"
Let me tell you a powerful story. In 2011, a devastating tsunami hit the coastline of Japan following one of the largest earthquakes ever recorded. Waves reached up to 133 feet tall, moving at 450 mph. In just a few moments, over 15,000 people were swept away.
A husband and wife, Yoko and Yasuo, had been married for 20 years. Yoko worked in a high-rise building in the part of the city where the wave hit. Knowing she couldn't leave and had no way out, she sent her husband what turned out to be her last text. Five words: "I want to come home." It was the last time he heard from his wife.
In the days that followed, Yasuo walked up and down the beach, checked hospitals, elementary schools, and shelter camps every day. Most other survivors who had lost family members eventually gave up their search. But not Yasuo. At the age of 56, he took up scuba diving. Since that day to the present—736 times—he has plunged into the cold, dark waters looking for his wife.
Recently, he was interviewed. Someone asked him, "Why are you still searching? It's 15, 16 years now. 736 times. Don't you think you've done enough?" He said, "No. Her last wish, her last text was, 'I want to come home.' I'm going to keep looking because that's what love does. Love keeps searching. Love keeps looking."
I want you to think about those words: "I want to come home." Every single one of us in this room was created with that exact same deep, restless ache in our souls. I want to go home. We feel it every day when we're exhausted by busyness. We feel it when we're weighed down by our own brokenness. We feel it when life doesn't make sense. We feel it when we bump into hardship, difficulty, and pain. We're all longing for a home, for peace, for a relationship with the God who made us.
Here's the challenge, and I want you to hear this: Too many of us think that prayer is trying to track down a distant, uninterested God, hoping if we shout loud enough, He might notice us. The gospel tells us the exact opposite. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Long before you ever took a step toward God, God came looking for you. He came looking for each and every one of us who were trapped in the noise, covered in the mess, feeling unworthy and broken. He doesn't wait for you to get your life together. He dives into the depths of your reality, into the brokenness of this world.
You don't need fancy words. You don't need to put on an act. Prayer is simply a lost child crying out to a Father who never stops looking. The moment you whisper the words, "Lord, I want to come home," you'll find that He's already standing there right beside you.
Here's what I'm saying to you: Pray continually. He is listening.
For those of you in this room who are searching, who are looking, who are hurting, who are broken, I love Matthew chapter 14. When Peter tries to walk on the water and begins to sink, he prays three words: "Lord, save me." If you're in this room and you feel like you're sinking, it's just that simple. "Lord, save me."
When I was 19 years old and gave my life to Christ, I was blessed to have a discipler named Eric Mixon who was about 10 years older than me. He took me through a scripture memorization curriculum, and we started with Psalm 119:11: "I have hidden my word in your heart that I might not sin against you." We moved through 2 Corinthians 5:17: "If anyone's in Christ, he's a new creation. Old things have passed away, new things have come." Eventually, we arrived at one of my favorite verses—just two words: 1 Thessalonians 5:17: "Pray continually."
As a new believer at 19, I wondered, "What does Paul really mean by that? How am I supposed to pray continually?" When you look at verses 16–18 together, the challenge becomes even clearer: "Rejoice always, pray continually, in everything give thanks." But here's what's important: Paul is not trying to overwhelm us or set an impossible spiritual standard. There's a real reason he placed those words there. There's a purpose behind them, and every believer should understand and embrace them.
Let me share a story from my high school years. During my senior year, I needed to fill an elective. My dad convinced me to try FFA. I showed up with long hair down to my shoulders and no boots—not exactly FFA material. I didn't last half a day. The guidance counselor then placed me in a different elective: small engines.
I only lasted four days in small engines, but I learned something simple and profound: Without the engine, you're not doing anything. You're not going anywhere. It doesn't matter if it's a weed eater, lawn mower, power washer, or car. Without the engine, nothing happens.
When Paul writes "Pray continually," here's what he wants us to understand: Prayer is the engine that drives our spiritual formation. Throughout our conversation these past weeks about spiritual disciplines, Paul places prayer in the middle of "Rejoice always, pray continually, in everything give thanks" for a reason. That's where prayer belongs—in the middle of everything, always.
If prayer is not part of your life, there won't be much fruit or formation. But here's the good news: you can build this into your life. You can develop a lifestyle, a habit, and a practice where you truly live out Paul's words and pray continually. It requires just a few things.
Prayer is not an action you perform—it's an atmosphere that you exist in. Paul is calling us into deep waters of faith where prayer becomes the very air that we breathe, the steady background rhythm of our lives. Through the Holy Spirit, we can remain in constant, open contact with our heavenly Father.
When adversity hits in the middle of our day, we instinctively ask God for wisdom. When we experience joy or a win, we immediately offer gratitude to our heavenly Father. When we encounter the brokenness of the world around us—in the lives of people we love, coworkers, and neighbors—we pause and pray, "God, help them. God, be with them."
But I want to be careful here. When I say prayer is an atmosphere, not an action, I don't want us to abandon the disciplined habits we've built into our lives. Starting our day with prayer and ending our day with prayer—those structured moments are important. Scripture shows us this pattern repeatedly.
Daniel prayed three times a day: morning, noon, and night. David had similar rhythms. Jesus regularly withdrew to lonely places to pray. Paul constantly emphasized prayer. They had these habits and disciplines built into their lives, but that wasn't all there was. If prayer only happens when your eyes are closed and your hands are folded in a quiet room, you've missed the point. We cannot limit prayer to a time, a place, a position, or a posture.
Think of it like an old AM/FM radio. You had a tuning knob, and you had to dial it in just right to hear the voice on the other end. Scheduled prayer—waking up, opening Scripture, kneeling down to start your day—that's like tuning the knob until you hear the voice of your heavenly Father. You're tuning your heart and spiritual ears to hear from God.
Atmospheric prayer is different. It's turning the volume up and leaving it on in the background of your life all day long. It's both—the spontaneous moments and the built-in discipline. Scheduled prayer tunes our heart to the right frequency. Atmospheric prayer keeps the radio on all day long.
The enemy knows that prayer is the engine. The enemy knows that living for Christ, growing in Him, and building these habits require an active prayer life. So the enemy puts barriers in front of us. In my life—and I think for most of us—there are two really common barriers we face every day: busyness and brokenness.
All of us in this room are busy. Students, you're heading back to school. You've got tutoring, sports, and your parents have things they want you to do. Moms, you've got so much going on. Businesspeople, you're juggling countless responsibilities. We're all busy, busy, busy.
But here's the truth: Prayer does not require your life to slow down.
There's a beautiful story about Susanna Wesley, the mother of the famous evangelist John Wesley. In the 1700s, she had 19 children. No dishwasher, no washing machine, no dryer, no modern conveniences. Nineteen kids. When she wanted and needed to pray, she would sit in her rocking chair and pull her apron over her head. Her children said, "We knew that when the apron was up, Mom was in the Holy of Holies." None of us are too busy to pray.
Prayer is not a reward for when your schedule clears up. It's the anchor that holds you steady while life is moving fast around you. I want to challenge you this week: practice short micro-prayers. Sprinkle them throughout your day.
Here are some examples:
These are micro-prayers. Sprinkle them into your day, in the middle of all the decisions, deadlines, and things you have going on.
Here's what I would say about the barrier of brokenness: Prayer does not require spiritual makeup. We don't have to come to God looking polished or put-together. All of us in this room are broken. All of us are beaten up. All of us are bruised.
Too many of us treat prayer like we're getting ready for a formal event. We think we have to clean up our attitude, wipe away doubts, and find lofty theological words. We try to put on a show. But if you're waiting to talk to God until you feel like you've got it all together, you'll spend your entire life in silence. Our prayers shouldn't be a polished performance. They should flow naturally from the most honest, unfiltered, genuine, real parts of our lives.
God knows anyway. We don't have to put spiritual makeup on to come before our heavenly Father. John Bunyan said it perfectly: "In prayer, it's better to have a heart without words than words without a heart." God is not evaluating your vocabulary when you pray. He's looking at your authenticity. He's looking for your honesty.
A two-word prayer born out of absolute desperation carries infinitely more weight in heaven than a 10-minute monologue filled with lofty theological jargon that you don't even feel in your heart. Here's my encouragement: Stop trying to pray like the person you think you should be and start praying from where you are. Honest. Authentic. Real. You're not too broken to pray. None of us are too far away or too messed up to pray.
Here's the last thing I would say to all of us: Prayer requires us to treasure it as a privilege and to resolve to persevere. Church, if I could say anything to you today, it's this: Don't ever lose your sense of wonder over what prayer actually is. Don't lose the awareness of how precious, supernatural, and sacred a gift prayer is.
Remember, under the old covenant, prayer and coming into the presence of God required blood. It required animal sacrifices, a special priest, and stepping behind a heavy curtain. Ordinary people didn't have access to God. But when Jesus died on the cross, the temple curtain was split straight down the middle from top to bottom. Through our relationship with Christ and through His Holy Spirit, each and every one of us who are Christ followers have direct 24/7 access to the God who created the heavens and the earth. We have access to the Creator of the universe. You don't need an appointment. You don't need a mediator. Through the Holy Spirit living inside of you, you can cry out "Abba Father" at any moment, in any place, at any time.
Prayer is a gift. Because it's a gift, persevere. Don't ever give up in your prayers. I know there are people in this room praying for something specific—something you've been praying about for what feels like an eternity, maybe years and years. I've seen this in my own life over and over again. My mom prayed diligently for my father, who was so far removed from God. She prayed for 25 years. About a year before he passed away, he finally gave his life to Christ and had a beautiful, incredible transformation. Don't give up on the things God has called you to pray for. Keep praying the heavens down. Silence is not absence. A delay is not denial. Keep knocking. Keep seeking. Keep bringing your heart to the Father.
Here's a beautiful truth that rocked me to my core when I studied it this week: We should continue to pray until we come to the world where prayer is swallowed up with praise. There will be a time when we stand before our heavenly Father, see things clearly, and understand that petitions and prayers will cease. When I realized that, I prayed, "Oh God, forgive me for not being more diligent in my prayer life. I want to show up before You on that day used up. I want my prayer life to be spent. God, I don't want to show up and have You say, 'Where was the prayer? That's the engine meant to drive your spiritual formation, and you neglected it.'"
Let me tell you a powerful story. In 2011, a devastating tsunami hit the coastline of Japan following one of the largest earthquakes ever recorded. Waves reached up to 133 feet tall, moving at 450 mph. In just a few moments, over 15,000 people were swept away.
A husband and wife, Yoko and Yasuo, had been married for 20 years. Yoko worked in a high-rise building in the part of the city where the wave hit. Knowing she couldn't leave and had no way out, she sent her husband what turned out to be her last text. Five words: "I want to come home." It was the last time he heard from his wife.
In the days that followed, Yasuo walked up and down the beach, checked hospitals, elementary schools, and shelter camps every day. Most other survivors who had lost family members eventually gave up their search. But not Yasuo. At the age of 56, he took up scuba diving. Since that day to the present—736 times—he has plunged into the cold, dark waters looking for his wife.
Recently, he was interviewed. Someone asked him, "Why are you still searching? It's 15, 16 years now. 736 times. Don't you think you've done enough?" He said, "No. Her last wish, her last text was, 'I want to come home.' I'm going to keep looking because that's what love does. Love keeps searching. Love keeps looking."
I want you to think about those words: "I want to come home." Every single one of us in this room was created with that exact same deep, restless ache in our souls. I want to go home. We feel it every day when we're exhausted by busyness. We feel it when we're weighed down by our own brokenness. We feel it when life doesn't make sense. We feel it when we bump into hardship, difficulty, and pain. We're all longing for a home, for peace, for a relationship with the God who made us.
Here's the challenge, and I want you to hear this: Too many of us think that prayer is trying to track down a distant, uninterested God, hoping if we shout loud enough, He might notice us. The gospel tells us the exact opposite. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Long before you ever took a step toward God, God came looking for you. He came looking for each and every one of us who were trapped in the noise, covered in the mess, feeling unworthy and broken. He doesn't wait for you to get your life together. He dives into the depths of your reality, into the brokenness of this world.
You don't need fancy words. You don't need to put on an act. Prayer is simply a lost child crying out to a Father who never stops looking. The moment you whisper the words, "Lord, I want to come home," you'll find that He's already standing there right beside you.
Here's what I'm saying to you: Pray continually. He is listening.
For those of you in this room who are searching, who are looking, who are hurting, who are broken, I love Matthew chapter 14. When Peter tries to walk on the water and begins to sink, he prays three words: "Lord, save me." If you're in this room and you feel like you're sinking, it's just that simple. "Lord, save me."
