Beyond Words

Morning watch - August 7 @3:37 am

Beyond Words

This morning, I found myself drawn into a kind of prayer that doesn’t begin with words. It wasn’t planned. I didn’t come with a list or a liturgy. Just a quiet ache and the sense that God was already waiting—not for my eloquence, but for my presence.

There’s a communion that happens beneath language. A knowing that doesn’t need to be spoken. I’ve tasted it before, in moments of grief, in the hush after confession, in the stillness of early morning light. Today, it returned—not as a demand, but as an invitation.

I’ve spent years approaching prayer as discipline, as duty, as warfare. And there’s a place for all of that. But lately, I’ve been asking: what if prayer is less about effort and more about intimacy? Less about saying the right things, more about being willing to be seen?

I didn’t have much to offer today. No polished words. No spiritual insights. Just breath. Inhale: known. Exhale: by You. I let that rhythm carry me. Not upward, not outward—just deeper.

There’s a weight to God’s presence that quiets me. Not in fear, but in reverence. It’s the kind of silence that feels full, not empty. Like the hush in a room where something sacred has just happened. I didn’t want to leave it. I still don’t.

I’m beginning to believe that devotion isn’t something I perform—it’s something I enter. A space where God meets me not in my strength, but in my surrender. Where the holiest part of my morning might not be the prayer I speak, but the silence I allow.

I want to live here more often. In the space beyond words. Where God isn’t a concept to explain, but a presence to dwell with. Where I don’t have to prove anything. Where being known is enough.