Introduction
To me, India during the summer of 2001 might as well have been Mars. I felt so separated from familiar ground. As I walked in the gray, predawn light, the beaches of Bombay began filling up with walkers and joggers and an occasional pack of dogs. Very little of what I saw that morning fit with my experience.
It appeared as though most people were there for exercise, a clearing of the head, and perhaps some conversation with companions.
I observed Hindu temples spaced along the beach. The devout would pause along their route, face the temple, and pray to the gods inside. However, as far as I could tell, none of them either expected or received any answers.
The prayer life of many Christians in America is not unlike that of the devout Hindu on the beaches of Bombay. Yes, we pray to God, not some man-made idol; however, the way in which we pray is surprisingly similar.
Often, our prayers are not like any other normal conversation. For many of us, they are the rote pleadings of children who know well their own needs, but understand little about their Father.
Most of my life I struggled with the vague notion that God wanted to talk to me and I just wasn’t listening hard enough.
