“God? Please make them aware of your presence.”

It’s something I ask God often on behalf of others. It’s something I ask when I don’t want to presume that I know what they need.

I could say, and sometimes do, “bring healing to their heart and body and mind.”

I could say, and sometimes do, “provide a job” or “provide a car” or “provide a path”.

But I’m aware that what I see as a need may not be the deepest need. And I assume that God is present always (mostly because Jesus said, “I am with you always.”) And I think that when we become aware of that presence, that very awareness is like looking up and realizing that someone is sitting in the chair by our bed.

In that moment we may find courage or hope or peace or humility. We may ask for answers or forgiveness or rest. But that awareness of presence helps.

So that’s what I ask.

The other day, I realized that sometimes the answer to the request, “God? Please make them aware of your presence” may be my presence. I may be the hands. I may be the voice. I may be the quiet.

That was not a comfortable realization. I want their awareness of God to be more than me. More competent, more real, more confident, more powerful.

So I guess I’m changing my request. “God? Please make them aware of your presence. And if I’m part of that presence, let me be aware, too.”


This week, I wrote about The Great Mother’s Day Ache of 2021.

My friend Will Curry wrote a thirty-day devotional. He’s in Detroit today, remembering his mom, who died a year ago today. This devotional, with a thought, a scripture, and a prayer for each day, grew out of his own need for courage and encouragement during this tough season.