Prayer happens as we come aside to be with God in a quiet place, but it can also be intertwined in the minute-by-minute, hour-by-hour daily rhythms: making morning coffee, washing the breakfast dishes, filling out tax forms, picking children up from school, or meeting with a client. Prayer is not some abstract event that happens separate from our lived experience. It is shaped by the particular context and places in which we live, work, rest, study, and play.
As I think about hope in the midst of the degradation of God’s world, it is easy for me to be distracted by two things: either by my anxiety and fear about what will become of God’s creation or by my cynicism and withdrawal from the problem at hand. But, through the lens of prayer, I can name my fear and my trust, my lament and my delight, my sorrow and my hope. Most importantly, I can bring all these things to God in prayer. And I can bring these things to God in my daily life—right outside my front door.