Prayer never came easily for me.

Most of the time, I either tried too hard or not at all. I would sit down wanting to hear God, but would get lost trying to ‘do prayer right’. I was thinking about what I should say, what I should feel, or how long I should stay quiet before I could say to myself that I had “spent time in prayer”. Other times I would drift through it distracted by life, half-present, wondering why it felt empty. As a result, why I felt empty, spiritually dry.

I really didn’t know how to be still without doing something, or solving something. As an extrovert, I’ll find myself in social connection (distraction). My experience of ADHD has been a double edged sword, I have the gift of being able to context switch in uncommon ways, that allows me to be incredibly high capacity. I’ve always got momentum on a dozen projects whether at work or in our old fixer-upper of a home. However this can also be a trap when it comes to slowing things down and finding myself just … being. To be honest, this is still a struggle. I’ve been working on writing this article for months, and found myself drawn back into it today as I sit deep in the struggle to be present. For the last year I’ve been really focusing on the invitation into presence, with God, with my wife, my kids, everyone I encounter. Honestly, even with myself. Sometimes, most of the time doing the next thing is easier than opening my heart up to presence. It’s still a challenge, but it’s been an incredibly fruitful journey. One I know the value of returning to when I lose my way.

A while back, I came across a prayer practice built around a single verse:

“Be still and know that I am God.” – Psalm 46:10

I first encountered this graphic through Practicing the Way, but added the ellipsis for a deeper invitation into reflection. At first, it felt more like a focusing exercise than prayer. Something to keep my thoughts from wandering.

But as soon as I actually spent some time praying through it, I experienced something deeper than I had expected. I felt invited into real conversation. It felt like real conversation. I could bring what was under the surface, and listen for God’s response to it.

The practice is simple. I was surprised at first, but as soon as I dove in, I found myself in it. I move through the verse slowly, one phrase at a time, sitting with each line and the associated promptings of The Spirit before moving on. What surprised me was how different it was each time I prayed through it. Not because the words changed, but because I did, or just because of where I was in that moment and the freedom to bring all of myself to prayer in that moment.

Be still and know that I am God
Starting here feels like exhaling a long breath that I didn’t know I was holding in. As I repeat it a few times I feel my mind start to slow down and let go of the other things I’ve been thinking about. I don’t have to worry about performing or bringing anything to the table beyond presence. I start here with a reorientation, a reminder to myself that this moment is not about my clarity, my productivity, or my effort. It often invites me out of self-reliance, reminding me that God is God. I don’t have to be. What a relief.

Be still and know that I am…
Here, I start to hear God's voice more personally. Not audibly, but with gentle prompts: “I am with you. I am your strength. I am enough. I am here.” I experience his love in the sharing of the particular parts of Himself that he knows I need in that moment.

Be still and know that I…
This line feels more vulnerable to me. Not so much about ideas of God as about relationship with Him. I’ll sense things like, “I love you. I am for you. I forgive you. I want to be with you. I understand what you’re going through.”

Be still and know that…
Here I find space to remember what is easily forgotten when I’m not slowing down in life. “That I am faithful. That you are not alone. That my plans can still be good even when you don’t understand them.”

Be still and know…
I can really let go of my need to understand everything. And I can just sit in the knowing even when things feel open-ended. I’m often brought back into things that have been revealed in the past. “Know my goodness. Know you are enough. Know the fruit of surrender.”

Be still and…
This is where my defenses are really invited to drop. Be still and wait. Be still and trust. Be still and receive. I don’t have to fix things, or perform or plan. I just get to be here. I get to receive, to be invited back into the beautiful simplicity of presence. I’m reminded of how important these postures are.

Be still…
Silence. And plenty of distraction, that I gently put aside, over and over again. But over time, the stillness itself starts to feel less foreign and I can receive the gift of just being with God. Be still. 

Be…
This final part hits the deepest. It's no longer about what I think or say or do. It's a personal deep reminder about who I am, and who I am in Him. Be loved. Be present. Be a son. Be mine. Be who I made you to be.

This prayer has become a place I return to often, not because I always feel something profound, but because it helps me be honest: About my inner life, who God is, and about what I'm really looking for when I sit down to pray.

I used to think vulnerability was about sharing hard truths. But lately, I've realized it's also about sitting with truth—not fixing it, not escaping it, just staying with it long enough to be changed. This prayer helps me do that.

It's not magic. It doesn't solve my distractions or guarantee a spiritual high. But it gives me language and space to be seen by God. To return, again and again, to where I'm not the sum of what I can make or do. I'm just His.