Daylilies are the monks of the plant world. Even-tempered, they work and play well with others. Of cheerful disposition, they bloom where they're planted. Content, they put down roots and make the best of any situation. But their true affinity to reclusive spiritual giants of the past comes alive as they pray.
Don't you see those brittle brown monkish hands, folded in prayer?
You and I could learn a lot about praying from a daylily.
This daylily knows it has nothing to offer. It approaches God empty, barren, bowing head and heart to its Maker, understanding instinctively that the green growth it relies on will only come as it surrenders its expectations and needs. As it joins its hands in submission, it acknowledges the source of its strength, the Giver of life, as well as its own brokenness.
Wonderful realists, daylilies.
He will respond to the prayer of the destitute; he will not despise their plea. Psalm 102:16
Sometimes, it is more honest to admit that the hands we fold in prayer are broken. Brittle. Sucked dry, caught up in the busy whirlwind we call living. Reality is, we rely on God for every breath, every sunrise, every good and perfect gift.
God knows our weaknesses intimately. He knows we are - well, destitute. He loves to respond to the daylily prayers among us - those raw, real, gut-wrenching pleas for help. Those humble, honest declarations of need. Those admissions of guilt, of failure, of withered hopes and unmet dreams.
Have you been praying like a daylily, friend?
You may be able to fool those around you. You may be able to fool yourself. But God is wise to the true state of your heart - and since He loves Truth, He loves your honest declaration of your soul's deepest needs.
Those daylilies really know where it's at when it comes to prayer...