Write About Now

I beat DOWN the Reader’s Digest word power quizzes. From “judicious” to “wainscoting,” I’m hard to beat.

This isn’t because I’ve tried to expand my vocabulary with flash cards—it’s just the natural result of almost 30 years of daily immersion in books and magazines. A lifelong love of reading has made me sesquipedalian.

My cousin’s wife, Amber, is a wonderful cook. After attending culinary school here and in Europe and interning at Martha Stewart’s TV show, she deglazes, she infuses, and she purees. From dicing vegetables to crafting the perfect pie crust, Amber easily and effortlessly navigates the kitchen. (She’s also fluent in French and beautiful, but I’m not allowed to be jealous because now she’s family.)

But Amber wasn’t born with all this ability, either. Hard work in her classes plus lots of practice at home and on the job have made Amber a talented chef.

The same principle is true for almost every person; from the Olympic athlete to the amateur oil painter, skill comes from years (and years and years) of practice.

So it makes sense the same principle would apply to our spiritual lives. We’re all born to connect with God. Unlike sports or musical talent, God created us all with the ability to have meaningful relationship with him. But an “unconscious competence” doesn’t just happen—we have to practice.

I considered this during a prayer night at my church last week, which is itself symptomatic of the issue: I am not good at prayer. My thoughts drift around from chores to shopping lists to future blog posts. I contribute little of value to the conversation and I receive even less because I have trouble slowing down and focusing my mind on the present moment and the God who allows it.

But I can practice. I can meditate on words or verses, I can write my prayers, I can be still every day even though it’s difficult. It may take years to see progress, but nothing of value that I’ve learned so far has come easily—why should my spiritual “skills”?

Sure, we all have areas of special giftedness, and prayer isn’t one of mine. But using that truth to excuse a lack of progress is like flunking math because I’m “an idea person.” I must work at prayer, at forgiveness, at joyfulness. I must practice being kind, serving with humility, and controlling what I say until these actions become truly second nature. Maybe in 30 more years I’ll have it down.