Once or twice a year, we spend a weekend with our dear friends whom we met when we lived in Chicago. Our friendship began long before either of us had children, but—like us—they now have three kids. Last year, we hosted their family for the weekend at our home in West Michigan.

After cheering our kids on in their Saturday morning soccer matches, we put together a simple lunch. We gathered around and I asked who wanted to pray before we ate. Their nine-year-old son, Charles, raised his hand. Charles doesn’t use words, but he communicates nonetheless. He looked me in the eye and made a noise that clearly meant, “Me!” I’m ashamed to say it, given that I work in disability advocacy, but I wasn’t expecting Charles to lead us in prayer. But nobody skipped a beat. We bowed our heads and Charles led us.

When words aren't necessary

Charles' voice rose and fell in a cadence typical of how we pray, pausing here and there to think of what he would say next. He said certain parts with extra emphasis and passion, and other parts more seriously. Charles ushered us into God’s presence. We could feel the Holy Spirit. I don’t know what Charles said to God that day, but we didn’t need the words. He finished up with what seemed to be “Amen,” and we all echoed, “Amen,” and grabbed our lunch. Clearly, Charles has a vibrant prayer life; communicating with God is as regular a part of his life as it is of mine.

I’ve thought of this moment often: of Charles’ palpable faith, his leadership, his genuine heart. It wasn’t the first time I’d observed Charles’ faith in a concrete way. Charles has a music ministry he shares in the most unlikely of places: public bathrooms. Charles loves to sing praise and worship songs. He can really hold a tune and he sings each note with spirit and energy. Charles discovered that the acoustics of a public bathroom are the best. When Charles goes into a public restroom his voice rings out. It echoes. It is loud and jubilant. I can’t help but wonder who Charles has ministered to in a place they least expected it. Who needed to know that God is with them? Who needed to see what unconscious joy looks like? Who needed permission to be completely and authentically themselves? I have no doubts that God uses Charles to minister to others in this way.

The Holy Spirit intercedes

In the book of Romans, Paul shows us that prayer doesn’t require words:

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God (Romans 8:26-27).

Like Charles’ prayer, there have been times when my prayers didn’t include words. I think of the moments when my prayers were the quiet tears falling in God’s presence, expressing emotions that words could not convey. At other times, my prayers were screams of anguish as I knelt beside the bed. Sometimes, my prayer is the joyful recognition of God working right in front of me. On other days, my prayer is the playing of a familiar tune from church on the piano, the music wordlessly carrying my prayers to God as I hum along.

Everyday practices to connect with God

Thinking about Charles’ prayer life reminds me of spiritual practices I’ve learned through the years to simply be in God’s presence. One is centering prayer, when we sit still and picture an image, maybe a triangle symbolizing the Trinity or the flicker of a candle as a reminder of the light of the world. We can practice remembering the presence of God simply by noticing our own breath—the life God has filled us with—breathing in and out, in and out. I’ve often encountered God while taking walks in nature or sitting by Lake Michigan.

In her book St. Benedict’s Toolbox, Jane Tomaine suggests picking a regular part of life and pairing it with listening to God. I did this with my morning commute one year; maybe for you, it’s working in the garden or your morning walk with the dog. Perhaps there’s a prayer labyrinth in your community where you could slowly journey towards the center with God. I invite you to remember the ways that you have practiced simply being in God’s presence. Are there practices you’d like to go back to or something new you’d like to try?

Trusting God with our unspoken prayers

In prayer, we tune into the truth that God is always with us. In prayer, we remember that Christ is the foundation and focal point of our lives. Prayer is about God’s presence and that does not require words. Whether through silent tears, anguished cries, joyful sounds or singing like Charles’, each expression of our wordless prayers is a beautiful gift to God. In the Holy Spirit, we trust that God hears and understands us in all of our prayers, even when we don't use any words.

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Try some of the creative ideas with your church family. You can also find a variety of resources on our website.