I know my prayers are often blotted with selfishness and are off the mark. God must smile at my efforts the way I smile at a child trying to write her name for the first time. The effort is sincere but the result is skewed. But she keeps trying, and so do I.

Why? Because talking with the Almighty, the One who has power over all things and owns the universe is a privilege beyond price. It’s a luxury more valuable than talking with President Obama, Bill Gates or Brad Pitt. God is the only one who can affect change not only in the world but also in the human heart. He can transform my heart and also the hearts of others for whom I pray.

Chuck Swindoll said, “There is no more significant involvement in another’s life than prevailing, consistent prayer. It is more helpful than a gift of money, more encouraging than a strong sermon, more effective than a compliment, more reassuring than a physical embrace.”

When Nate and I were first married, we didn’t understand each other very well. I expected things from him that he couldn’t give, mostly because he didn’t know I wanted them. For example, when I got emotional about something and started to cry, I’d long for him to come and sit next to me, put his arm around me and sympathize. What he did instead was come with a list of ways to fix the problem.

I could have told him he was missing the mark and described what I wanted from him. Without doubt he would have delivered. But I thought he should have known it already, instinctively, and if he didn’t, he should have been able to read my mind.

And that’s the remarkable thing about prayer. As I’m babbling away trying to find the words to express my longing, he’s already got it. He knows me inside and out, my passions, frustrations, wants and needs. I talk to him because I love him for all this and for how many ways he’s demonstrated his love for me. Also, I know he has the ability to affect change, both tangible and intangible, external and internal, something even a powerful world dictator can’t do.

It’s difficult talking to someone who is dear to me but who I cannot see or audibly hear. The Lord knows this but doesn’t want it to become a stumbling block to our continued conversation. Jesus even mentioned it to his disciples, reminding them it was easy to hear him clearly when they were looking right at him. But then he mentioned the rest of us, the ones coming along after he’d physically left the earth. “You believe because you have seen me. Blessed are those who believe without seeing me.” (John 20:29)

And so I know he knows, which brings comfort as well as a desire for me to keep talking. It won’t always be this way, though. Some day I’ll get to see him exactly like the disciples did, as a mentor and friend, visible, audible, and talking directly to me. And I can’t wait!

“Before they call I will answer; while they are still speaking I will hear.” (Isaiah 65:24)