I am often asked, “Bishop, what is prayer?”

It is a question that follows me, and no matter how I answer it for others, I always end the day asking it of myself. Did I pray today? What did I ask for? Did God listen to my woes, or was I simply talking to myself? When someone asks me to pray for them, I always say yes. And I do. But how I pray for them has changed deeply over the years.

I have learned that prayer is not an attempt to change the heart of God, but to change mine. It is not a tool to alter my circumstances, but a grace to help me accept them. It is not a bargain I strike with the Divine, but a conversation I have with myself about my next action, realizing my God is with me through it all. In a strange way, prayer has become more about me than it is about God—because God is already there.

The more I ask for something, the less interested I become in the specific outcome. It’s a paradox: the less I am attached to the “result” of my prayer, the better my attitude becomes. Prayer has become a daily walk, much like Enoch, who “walked faithfully with God” (Genesis 5:24). It has become the wonderment of Noah and Abraham, who questioned God, struggled with God, and eventually came to accept the reality of the path set before them. My Franciscan brother, Richard Rohr, often reminds me that prayer is not a way to get God to do what we want, but a way to become the person God wants us to be. It is that movement from my small, ego-centered world into a much larger, Christ-centered one.

For me, prayer is now the intentional choice to sit in a place where I can simply relax and be at peace. It is the practice of becoming fully aware that God is walking with me through the good and the bad times—not just the crises, and not just the celebrations, but the messy middle of life. I find myself leaning on the wisdom of Cynthia Bourgeault, who teaches that this kind of centering is a discipline of intentionality; I am not trying to make my mind go blank, I am simply practicing the art of letting go.

I am learning not to put pressure on what I ask for. Instead, I put the pressure on my own discipline. Am I faithful enough to give my time to the One I love? As I often say: Time is Love. Love is Prayer. Prayer is Commitment. That is the beginning and the end of it. Even Saint Francis of Assisi understood that the goal was never the words themselves, but the transformation of the heart. He knew that the greatest gift Christ gives us is the grace of overcoming the self.

I am learning to stop worrying about whether I am “doing it right.” I am choosing to stop worrying if my list of requests is long enough or holy enough. I want to simply offer my presence to the Presence. I am making a commitment to myself to stay on the walk, even when I amn’t sure where the path is leading. I am searching for the peace that comes when I stop bargaining and start simply being.

I hope I can walk with God and be enough. What else is there to pray for than being with God in all things in life?

Yes, there are plenty of things to worry about and pray for. I realize. In the end, crying through what I can’t deal with, laughing through what I rejoice in, and finding the center through it all is prayer, and the whole process, when I am aware that I am not alone. He is walking with me, holding me on his shoulders, as the classic Jesus walk on the beach! I learned that prayer is simply letting God shoulder me!

Realizing God is shouldering me along with the weight of my burdens is plenty of prayer. What a relief!

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