I didn't exactly start praying the first day I became a Christian. Leading up to that day I'd been moved by other people's prayers and I felt the power of the Holy Spirit; that power is what brought me to that moment of giving myself to Jesus Christ. You could say I was in the habit of thinking prayer was foolish; you know, talking to the wall and expecting it to help you is kind of ridiculous, especially when there is no wall.
Even though I had gone through the stages of realization that first an omnipotent, omnicient, and involved Being was possible, then likely, then evident by virtue of the very nature of existence--having come to feel in the depths of my soul that the wall was all ears--even though the foolish had become wise to my eyes and the wise had become foolish, I wasn't ready to be one of those people.
But privately I tried it, not out loud mind you. (I wouldn't anyone to hear me acting foolish, least of all myself!) I mean God's supposed to hear even silent prayers, right? So I tried it. I privately asked God to help me navigate some small obstacle in life. No big deal. But the crazy thing was...it helped. It's like God heard me ask and He said, "Sure. Don't worry about it. I've got this." So I started doing it more. Even sitting at work when I felt unmotivated, I asked God to help me find the strength to keep pushing forward, and He said, "You have it." and I did. It was trivial but apparently He didn't mind.
Maybe it's foolish to think at the mind-reading wall, but deluded or not, when the wall starts helping me out, I'm going to gratefully accept. There's something very powerful about just the asking, which is not to say there's not something wonderful in the receiving.
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