My first virtual prayers were neither eloquent nor electric. I blurted them through the Zoom app on my phone into living rooms and dining rooms and kitchens of people separated by safe distancing.

A pastor leading the morning devotional launched the prayer and invited us to fuel its flight. There was a long, silent pause. I unmuted, began with “Dear Lord … “and then, as always when praying aloud, shared too many words too quickly.

My first virtual prayer was for students and teachers. Two days later, my prayer was for families, parents and children, grandparents and grandchildren, isolated in separate places.

Both of my Zoom prayers were ragged, rushed and probably repetitive. But unrehearsed. And real.  I am never embarrassed by my ragged prayers.

I heard a pastor, also on Zoom, also on this pandemic path, explain that Holy Spirit takes our stuttering, stumbling prayers and, without hesitation, replays them for Father and Son. And Father and Son hear it all as beautiful music.

I hear the beautiful music, too. I love prayer shared aloud. I love prayer offered humbly and prayer offered boldly. I love thankful prayers, and tearful prayers, and fearful prayers, and prayers of praise. I love the simple prayers of children and the elegant prayers of elders. I love to hear prayer offered slowly and thoughtfully, and prayer that crashes like whitewater over rocks.

I wonder what God hears when one voice follows another in prayer … I wonder if He, like me, would like to hear shared prayer more often. We hesitate over praying aloud, afraid of what others might think, but we’re not praying to those others. And, honestly, do you ever remember hearing a prayer that was unworthy and unwelcome?

The virus crisis has taken many things away for many weeks, but maybe we can find opportunity inside the challenge. As we look for ways to connect, as we Zoom with family and friends, co-workers and classmates, neighbors and church family, maybe we can find more time, more courage, more conviction and lift beautiful music to God.   

Photo by Bill Utterback