It occurred to me on my morning walk recently that my prayers had become overly complicated and focused on the future. Wow, I thought, it’s almost as if I’ve been trying to redecorate human problems with spiritual truth so they’ll have a shot at looking better tomorrow or the next day. I realized I’d been trying to argue myself into winning something I believed I lacked.

This awareness stopped me in my tracks. I stood still for a long moment, noting the flowers dotting the farthest field, remembering that ever-present good, God—not some future possibility of good—is the only real basis for effectual, healing prayer. I also affirmed that “prayer is the simplest form of speech / That infant lips can try” (James Montgomery, Christian Science Hymnal, Hymn 284).

Take Ingrid, my friend’s new baby. She has no need to define the future, much less pray about it. To Ingrid, everything is present, real, unprojected, fully alive. Every shift of light, color, texture, and sound is a wonder-inducing blend of peace, power, and amazement. She lives without the limits of either human language or time.