I Had To Learn That Someone Else's Prayer Life Wasn't Mine

It's funny how somebody else's testimony can make you question your own relationship with God.

A Christian shares how clearly God directed them through a difficult decision. They explain what happened, what God showed them, and how they knew exactly what to do. You listen, and somewhere during the conversation you start wondering why hearing God doesn't seem quite that straightforward for you.

I've seen people get frustrated over this. They love God, they pray, they read their Bible, but they're convinced they're missing something because another Christian seems to have a much better handle on hearing His voice.

I've wondered about it myself.

Especially when someone describes an experience with such confidence that you almost feel embarrassed admitting your own experience was considerably less dramatic.

I've heard testimonies that genuinely encouraged me. I've also heard some that left me with questions I didn't want to ask out loud.

Not necessarily questions about whether the person was telling the truth.

More like, Why doesn't that happen to me?

And once that thought gets into your head, it's surprisingly difficult to leave it alone.

The Conversation That Got Me Thinking

I remember listening to a man describe how God had directed him through a major business decision.

He was enthusiastic about it, and I enjoyed hearing the story. He explained how he'd prayed, received what he believed was clear direction, and watched several circumstances come together afterward.

I was happy for him.

But I also knew that I'd made important decisions after praying without experiencing anything nearly as definite.

I'd read Scripture, considered the circumstances, talked things through with people I trusted, and eventually made a choice.

Sometimes I felt confident.

Other times I didn't.

A few decisions worked out wonderfully. Others required adjustments I hadn't anticipated.

Listening to him, I wondered whether I was supposed to be experiencing something more.

I didn't say anything.

The conversation moved on, and I eventually forgot about it.

Or thought I had.

A few days later, while praying about something unrelated, I remembered his testimony and caught myself wondering whether I was doing prayer correctly.

That irritated me.

Not because of anything he'd done. He'd simply shared what happened in his life.

I was the one who had turned it into a measurement.

Peter Asked A Question I Understand

There's a conversation near the end of John's Gospel that I've returned to several times.

In John 21, Jesus is speaking with Peter after the Resurrection. It's a serious conversation. Jesus has spoken about Peter's love for Him and has told him something about what lies ahead.

Then Peter notices John.

And Peter wants to know what's going to happen to him.

John 21:21 says, "Peter seeing him saith to Jesus, Lord, and what shall this man do?"

I can understand that question.

Jesus has just spoken about Peter's future, including some difficult things, and Peter looks over at another disciple.

What about him?

What's his assignment?

What's going to happen in his life?

Jesus answers in verse 22, "If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee? follow thou me."

I've always found that response rather striking.

Jesus doesn't give Peter the comparison he wants.

He brings the conversation back to Peter's responsibility.

Follow Me.

I wonder how many times I've complicated my own walk with God by wanting information about somebody else's.

We Usually Hear The Finished Version

Something I've noticed about testimonies is that we often hear them after the person knows how everything turned out.

That makes sense.

People naturally tell stories from the perspective of what they know now.

But the finished version can sound considerably more certain than the experience felt while it was happening.

I've done this myself.

I've described decisions where I believed God was leading me, and afterward I realized I hadn't mentioned all the uncertainty I felt at the time.

Not deliberately.

It simply wasn't the part of the story I was thinking about.

I remembered the prayer.

I remembered the decision.

I remembered what happened.

The hesitation in between seemed less important afterward.

Yet that hesitation was very real when I was living through it.

I've also listened to people describe remarkable answers to prayer and later learned they'd spent a great deal of time struggling with the situation beforehand.

Sometimes years.

You don't always hear that part.

And you certainly don't hear everything that happened in their private conversations with God.

That's worth remembering before deciding somebody else has a relationship with the Lord that makes yours look inadequate.

I Used To Think Longer Prayers Must Be Better

There was a period when I paid far too much attention to how long other Christians prayed.

I'd hear about someone spending an hour with God every morning and immediately wonder whether I should be doing the same.

Then I'd hear about somebody praying for two hours.

Well, now we have a problem.

I could barely get through my regular morning responsibilities without something needing my attention, and apparently there were Christians somewhere who had enough time to pray through the entire book of Psalms before breakfast.

I admired their discipline.

Still do.

But I began treating their schedule like a standard I was supposed to meet.

That wasn't particularly helpful.

Some people have responsibilities, health circumstances, work schedules, or family situations that allow them more uninterrupted time than others.

Some have developed habits over decades.

Others are learning how to pray for the first time.

And there's also the fairly obvious fact that a person can spend a long time praying without necessarily being attentive to God.

I've done that.

I've also prayed briefly and been completely engaged.

I'm not arguing against spending extended time in prayer. I value it and believe it's worth making room for.

I just don't think a stopwatch tells us everything we'd like to know about someone's relationship with God.

I Don't Always Know What Another Christian Means By Hearing God

This is something I wish we discussed more openly.

Christians sometimes use the same expression to describe quite different experiences.

One person says God spoke to them and means a particular Scripture became deeply meaningful while they were praying.

Another means they developed a strong conviction about a decision.

Someone else means they had a thought they believe the Holy Spirit brought to mind.

And occasionally someone means they heard what they believe was an actual voice.

Those are not identical experiences.

Yet we can sit in church listening to several people say, "God told me," and assume everybody is describing the same thing.

I think it's reasonable to ask what someone means.

Not aggressively.

Not because we're trying to challenge their faith.

Simply because words matter.

I've learned a great deal from Christians who were willing to explain how they discerned God's direction, including times they believed they'd misunderstood something.

I appreciate those admissions.

They make the conversation more useful.

Sometimes I Have Been Wrong

I don't particularly enjoy including that sentence.

But I've had thoughts during prayer that seemed important and later realized I'd misunderstood the situation.

I've been strongly convinced that a particular opportunity was worth pursuing and discovered information afterward that changed my mind.

I've wanted something so badly that I had trouble separating my preference from what I believed God might be leading me to do.

That can happen.

It doesn't mean God isn't faithful.

It means I need humility.

Scripture gives us good reasons to examine what we believe, rather than treating every strong impression as unquestionable direction from Heaven.

I've found that wise counsel is particularly useful when I'm emotionally invested in an outcome.

Someone who isn't nearly as excited as I am may notice a problem I've managed to overlook.

That's happened more than once.

And yes, occasionally I've been annoyed with the person for noticing.

There Was A Woman Whose Prayers I Admired

Years ago I knew a Christian woman who prayed in a way I found unusually encouraging.

She wasn't particularly loud.

She didn't use complicated language.

In fact, some of her prayers sounded almost like ordinary conversation, except she was speaking to God.

She would mention people by name and pray about things she knew were happening in their lives.

Sometimes she'd stop in the middle of a sentence, think for a moment, and continue.

I remember that because she didn't seem embarrassed by the pause.

She wasn't trying to impress anybody.

I once heard her pray for someone who was facing a difficult family situation. She didn't pretend to know exactly what needed to happen.

She asked God to help the family, give them wisdom, and bring healing where there had been hurt.

There was nothing remarkable about the wording.

But I remember thinking I'd like to become more comfortable praying that way.

Not copying her sentences.

Just being that comfortable.

I learned something from watching her.

And I didn't need to make her prayer life into a competition to learn it.

Comparison Can Make Us Suspicious Of Our Own Growth

One thing I've noticed is how easily we overlook progress when we're concentrating on somebody who appears further along.

Maybe you used to pray only when something went wrong.

Now you pray regularly.

That's meaningful.

Perhaps there was a time when opening your Bible felt intimidating, and now you read Scripture because you genuinely want to understand it.

Or maybe you've become more willing to admit when you're wrong.

More patient with somebody who irritates you.

Less interested in winning every disagreement.

Those things matter.

But if your main measurement is whether you've experienced something as dramatic as another Christian's testimony, you might barely notice what's happening in your own life.

I have to remind myself of that occasionally.

There are areas where I still want to grow.

Quite a few, actually.

But I can also look back and recognize that certain things don't trouble me the way they once did.

Some habits have changed.

Some attitudes have softened.

I don't always notice those changes while they're happening.

I Don't Think We Need To Pretend Everyone's Experience Is Identical

Some Christians have remarkable experiences with God.

I believe that.

I've heard testimonies I have no reason to dismiss.

I've also known believers whose lives were marked by quiet faithfulness rather than dramatic spiritual experiences.

They loved their families.

They served people.

They prayed.

They endured some very difficult circumstances.

They weren't constantly announcing what God had revealed to them.

I don't think we should assume one group is automatically more mature than the other.

Scripture gives us much more substantial things to consider when examining spiritual growth.

Love.

Patience.

Faithfulness.

Self-control.

How we treat people.

Whether we obey what God has already made clear in His Word.

Those things can be rather inconvenient because they follow us into ordinary life.

It's one thing to describe a wonderful experience in prayer.

It's another to respond patiently when somebody has interrupted you for the fourth time while you're trying to finish something.

I know which one I sometimes find harder.

I Still Have Questions About My Own Prayer Life

There are Scriptures I want to understand better.

There are prayers I haven't seen answered.

I've asked God for direction and later wondered whether I understood what He was showing me.

I've watched other Christians handle situations with a confidence I didn't feel.

And occasionally I still hear a testimony that makes me think about my own experiences.

I don't believe there's anything wrong with learning from those people.

I hope I never become so defensive about my relationship with God that I stop listening to other believers.

We need one another.

I've received encouragement, correction, and genuinely helpful advice from Christians whose experiences were very different from mine.

But I've become more careful about what I do afterward.

I don't want to hear somebody's testimony and spend the rest of the afternoon examining everything I think is missing from my life.

I'd rather thank God for what He did for that person.

Maybe ask a question or two.

Learn something if there's something worth learning.

And then get on with following Jesus.

There's enough in my own life that needs attention without borrowing somebody else's assignment.

A Prayer About Comparison

Father, I catch myself looking at other people and wondering why certain things seem easier for them, and I know that comparison can get into my thinking before I even notice what's happening. Help me settle down, pay attention to what You're teaching me, and stop making my relationship with You into something I feel I have to prove.

I want to grow, God, and I want to recognize Your direction more clearly, but I also want to enjoy being close to You today while I'm still figuring things out. Please keep working on that part of me.

In Jesus Name, Amen.

I was reading John 21 again recently and noticed that after Jesus answered Peter's question about John, Peter still had to go on living his own life.

He couldn't spend the rest of it standing there asking what was going to happen to the other disciple.

He had people to care for, work to do, and some difficult things ahead of him.

John had his own life.

I imagine Peter still wondered about it occasionally.

I probably would have.

But Jesus had already answered the question He wanted Peter to pay attention to.

"Follow thou me."

I keep coming back to that.