He knows.

Sitting before My Everything, carrying what felt like the weight of the world, my heart seemed to have a billion questions to ask and so much to say. Yet, even with this immense sense of urgency to speak, I remained silent before God, words failing to be articulated. In a moment that it seemed I had so much to unleash at the ready ear of My Beloved, a stillness seized my being. Here at this place of divine interception, I found myself reminded in gentleness that He already knew and that I could rest in knowing that He is God. My words, although always welcomed by Him , I sensed were and sometimes are unnecessary. He knows. My list of needs? He knows. My questions and desires and burdens? He knows. He is ever-aware of each and every moment of my existance. Not merely aware, but so intensely devoted to me that He allows Himself to be intimately acquainted with all things that concern me. He knows. He really knows. There are these heaven-scripted moments in time that doctrine becomes revelation to the very core of your soul. This was one of those unexpected moments. It wasn't that God was telling me not to pray, certainly not, but reminding me that because He and I are in relationship, we have the ability to communicate even without my excessive ramblings. He knows and hears my heart and as He continues daily to draw me ever-closer, I too know and hear His heart...at the thought of this I am truly overwhelmed. It is then that I am reminded of these words I've recently read- a raw and beautiful articulation of this same thought... "How shall I pray? Are tears prayers Lord? Are screams prayers, or groans, or sighs or curses? Can trembling hands be lifted to You, or clenched fists or the cold sweat that trickles down my back or the cramps that knot my stomach? Will You accept my prayers, Lord, my real prayers, rooted in the muck and mud and rock of my life, and not just the pretty, cut-flower, gracefully arranged bouquet of words? Will you accept me, Lord, as I really am, messed up mixture of glory and grime?"- T. Loder