Golden aspen leaves were lazily drifting in an Indian summer breeze, landing in a pool of still water. I sat on the bank of a mountain stream. My wife and I had hiked away from the crowds of photographers intent on capturing the kind of scenery depicted on calendar photographs: snow-dusted mountains reflected in a mountain lake, flanked by ribbons of brilliant autumn leaves. For many years we had cherished being at a place like this on a day like this.
As I soaked up the peaceful, sunlit scene, my thoughts turned to God. I began to pray. I was somewhat startled to find myself praying to God just because I loved Him. I had set aside my usual prayers of late—prayers of petition, of making requests. This prayer was one of pure love. I contemplated God’s totally good, omnipotent nature. I felt refreshed, peaceful. “We love him, because he first loved us” (I John 4:19), filtered into my thought.
I considered my usual reason for praying. I had always brought an agenda to my prayer sessions. I needed to ask God for this wisdom, for that adjustment, for peace or direction or healing in a worrisome situation. Praying was like a safety valve—I wanted my prayers to release the pressure of too many unresolved difficulties. Now, suddenly, I was praying just because I loved God the way He was.
