A mountaintop experience by Dave Zimmerman: 7 Ways to Pray blog series

Welcome to a new series on prayer! As I launch my book 7 Ways to Pray, I’m delighted to share with you each week a blogpost from someone special. One of the things I love about prayer is that we’re all so different and thus enjoy different ways to pray. Shining the spotlight on the experiences of others will be a rich and encouraging experience, as you’ll see from this first post.

Who better to kick off the series than my editors? I have a huge respect for this breed of individual – having been one previously, I know how fragile the author ego can be, for instance. They bring an added extra to book projects, and the fingerprints of Dave Zimmerman, my US editor, and Elizabeth Neep, my UK one, are all over this project in fantastic ways. Today we hear from Dave – I challenge you not to chuckle (and then ponder deeply) – and next week we’ll hear from Elizabeth. Enjoy!

Not every editor gets to work for a Big Five publisher (or Big Four these days, as some entities are too big to fail but not too big to be absorbed into something bigger). Not all of us can take the company jet to an author lunch, and order the jumbo shrimp instead of the shrimpy shrimp, and then fly back to the Big Apple to ring the bell at an IPO or accompany their author to a taping of The View. No, some of us do our editing in relative quietude, at the desks of nonprofits, serving as the metaphorical sous-chefs to our authors as they bake the metaphorical bread of their books for us to cast onto the metaphorical waters of the book selling marketplace, with hopes of many happy returns (and very few sad ones).

Some of us on that end of the editorial spectrum, it should be said, occasionally do get to spend time in a castle. I can’t speak for my colleague Elizabeth Neep, Amy’s British editor for 7 Ways to Pray (although being in England she’s statistically more likely than I to drive past a castle on her commute). But drive past a castle on my commute I do, because tucked away on the front range of the Rocky Mountains of southern Colorado is the Glen Eyrie Castle and Conference Center, which, like NavPress, is a ministry of The Navigators. And every September that castle is opened to myself and my colleagues at The Navigators HQ for a day of prayer. 

We pray for the various ministries of The Navigators. We pray for unity among our diverse and distributed staff. We pray for the needs of our world and our nation and for the resiliency of our shared mission. And we end our day by dispersing into extended periods of time alone with God.

On one such day of prayer I decided I would take a hike as high into the hills as my little legs and delicate deck shoes would take me. I found a trail and kept on going, chatting with God as I went. The higher I went the thinner the air got, and the sparser the foliage. Eventually the trail leveled off relatively high against the tree line, and I decided to sit a bit and journal. 

I am not a natural pray-er. Amy’s book has been very good for me in that way. I need prompts and practices to latch onto, because otherwise my mind wanders and my prayers turn to mutters. 

On occasions like this day of prayer, however, I’m a little better able to focus. Prayer is the point of the day, and our program has primed my pump. I have lots of thoughts, but those thoughts are mostly turned toward God, thanks to the careful curation of my colleagues.

So there I found myself, at the top of a trail, pump primed, a journal in one hand and a pen in the other. I offered a moment of consecration and commenced to drafting a dialogue with God. It was pretty impressive if I do say so myself: earthy but elegant, pious but authentic. I was in some kind of zone.

Then I got restless, so I started walking again, taking joy in the day. I had a thought and I decided to share it with God as I walked. “You know what would make this time of prayer perfect?” I offered. “I would love to see some wildlife.”

It’s worth noting here that seeing wildlife on the grounds of the Glen Eyrie Castle and Conference Center is not at all uncommon. We are, after all, up against the Rockies, surrounded by mule deer and bobcats and bears and bighorn sheep. This was not, in my pious mind, an extravagant request.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of movement. I turned my head and found myself face to face with a dragonfly.

I turned to my left and saw a squirrel. I turned to my right and saw a bird.

I turned my attention back to God. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” I believe God said to me in that moment. “I don’t care.” 

It can seem like a faith crisis to hear the voice of God tell you he doesn’t care about what you want. I don’t know about you, but I have been steeped for some time in popular theologies that suggest God is actually preoccupied with what we want. The ways that we so often pray reflect that assumption: We list our requests or register our complaints or otherwise offer God a guided tour through our drama.

That’s one reason why books on prayer abound, why books like Amy’s are so important. As natural and primal as talking to God is, what constitutes a meaningful conversation with God can easily get all jumbled up in our heads. We need guidance. We need a mix of confidence and humility. We need to think about what prayer is. And we need to get over ourselves a little. 

On that day of prayer I had gotten a bit lofty. I needed to return to earth. In his grace, God gave me a lift.

When I heard God say he didn’t care about my request, I pictured him smiling as he said it. I don’t have a mental image of what God looks like, for the record, any more than I heard an audible voice deliver me that message. But God made himself manifest to me in that lofty space, during that consecrated time, and I believe he conveyed clearly to me that (1) he was for me and (2) I could maybe take things down a notch. 

I envisioned myself sharing a chuckle with God, remembering that I am made of the dust of the earth, like the grass that inevitably withers—but also remembering that it was God himself who breathed life into me, and that he made me, and you, a little lower than the angels, in his own image and likeness. 

I ended my day of prayer shortly after I shared that laugh with the God of the universe. I walked back down the hill to the parking lot of the Glen Eyrie Castle and Conference Center, hopped in my car, and drove home. And I have remembered that divine encounter ever since.

David Zimmerman is Publisher of NavPress, the publishing arm of The Navigators. He started his editorial career at InterVarsity Press. His Twitter bio says that he’s a “Middle aged middle child in middle management. I work as a publisher of Christian nonfiction. I’m interested in books, music, work, and everyday life.” Find him at Twitter.

Find out more about 7 Ways to Pray here, including how to pre-order in the US, UK, and Australia.