I have a prayer chair in my bedroom where I meet and talk with Jesus every day. There’s nothing special about this old worn piece of furniture – it’s very ordinary and mundane to the eye. It takes up good space that could be used for other purposes, but in truth, there is no greater purpose than entering into the presence of the almighty God.

My prayer chair is where I come to get rid of unnecessary baggage, weights, and other clutter than so easily piles up in my life. I sit down, raise my hands upward and begin to give my God praise and thanksgiving for who He is, what He is, and His ever present voice that speaks to me. I lift my hands and heart, and He lifts my troubles and worries. It’s the place where I ask God to forgive my failures, cover my sins with His blood, and change my stinking attitude into a Godly one. There I can unashamedly weep, cry, laugh, dance, and love God without reservation.

This special prayer altar is where I retreat when I’m feeling sorry for myself or irritated at life in general. I tell on people, tell on myself, express my woes and worries, and too often whine and carry on while God listens patiently without interrupting or judging. After I’m finished, it’s His turn, and there in His spirit, He mends, heals, corrects, and comforts me. In those moments He becomes my burden bearer and generously takes the weights of life and carries them for me. (Oh, the attitude adjustments I have received when talking to Jesus!)

This old chair has heard me, time and again, call out the names of my sons, grandsons, girls, family members, and people and friends in my community. It’s seen my tears and listened as I implored God to keep my loved ones safe in His nail-scarred fist, to heal when healing seemed impossible, to provide the impossible, and to comfort those who struggle with the loss of their loved ones. No doubt, it too, has sagged beneath the weight of my needs, wants, and prayer utterings, sighing in relief when I finally release them to the God who can.

My prayer place is my battleground where God and I fight my battles and the battles of those I know and love. When I shut the door to my bedroom, lift my hands and voice, and battle ensues. While I’m weak, He’s strong. While I’m limited, He’s limitless. Where I fail, He succeeds. I choose to trust in Him, and prayer fortifies that trust!

We have a rapport, God and I, in that special altar of prayer; and incidentally while the chair is the daily place I have chosen to pray, He will meet me anywhere and anytime – all I must do is call out His name, and His presence immediately prevails.

It doesn’t matter if it’s kneeling, standing, sitting…in public, in private…in need, in thanksgiving, in travail, or in ordinary conversation… meeting with God daily is the key to life and all it entails. How could I face life without Him? Thank God, He still meets me at my old prayer chair and converses in a language only He and I understand.