"I am not limited by your limitations"

I grew up going to church for most of my life. My mom was a Christian, but my dad was not there yet. He had also grown up in the church, but he experienced a very difficult childhood and young adult life. He was a Vietnam veteran who survived—and witnessed—horrible things during the war. Those experiences left him wrestling with how a loving God could allow such suffering in the world. Even so, he always insisted that my mom take my brother and me to church. Starting youth group in 6th grade was a new experience for me. I remember hanging out with kids my age, singing praise songs with the band, and hearing Bible stories from the stage, often followed by an altar call. At the time, I had a strong desire to be saved and respond to the invitation, but I never had the courage to stand up when the call was given. Instead, I would watch others go forward while I sat there thinking about it, wanting to move but never following through. That summer, I went up to Pine Lake Camp in Eldora, Iowa for a week. I took part in all the usual camp activities—swimming, walking the trails, hanging out with the guys in the cabin, and looking forward to breakfast in the dining hall. Our cabin counselor was Matt. He was studying at a college in Chicago, and you could tell he genuinely cared about the campers. I also learned he had recently lost a close friend who had been shot in Chicago. Each day, Matt made an effort to meet one-on-one with each of us in the cabin. Toward the end of the week, it was my turn. We sat at a round table in the dining hall and talked about spiritual things in a way that made sense for a sixth grader. Then he asked me a question I had never really considered before: “If you were to die tonight, do you know where you would go?” I told him I hoped I would go to heaven, but I wasn’t sure. He then shared with me that I could know for certain, and he led me in the sinner’s prayer. Afterward, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace and lightness. It was as if I had been carrying a backpack filled to overflowing with books, and suddenly it was taken off my back. I remember feeling almost weightless—like my arms wanted to rise because the burden was gone. I had never felt anything like it before. I finished the week at camp encouraged by Matt and others who had learned about my decision, though I was still the same shy kid I had always been. Over time, God continued to work in my life through youth group, Sunday school, Christian music, and reading the Bible. It didn’t all change at once, but slowly I began to grow in learning what it meant to follow Him. Eventually, I was baptized and joined a small group in high school. For a while, life felt fairly steady. I moved between school and church, growing up like a normal kid. Then, in 10th grade during study hall, I experienced something that deeply changed my understanding of prayer and my relationship with God. I was a decent student and didn’t usually have much homework to work on during study hall, so I began spending that time in prayer. At first, I would pray for about five minutes, asking God to watch over my family, help my friends, or pass a test. Over the course of the semester, those prayer times slowly grew longer until I was spending most of study hall praying. One day, as I began to pray, I felt something speak to my heart. It said: “Ira, you can’t out-pray Me.” It wasn’t an audible voice, but it was clear and direct in a way I had never experienced before. I immediately took it as a challenge and began praying through everything I could think of—people, needs, situations, concerns. But as I prayed each thing, it was as if the thought was already taken from me—already answered. I would pray for something, and before I could even finish, it felt as though it had already been lifted from my mind. So I would move on to the next thing, and the same thing would happen again. It continued like that throughout the entire study hall. The faster I tried to pray, the more it felt like I was being met before I could even form the words. Eventually, I ran out of things to pray for. When the period ended, my mind was overwhelmed. I had never experienced anything like it before—this sense of God not only hearing my prayers but being present and responsive in real time. As I walked to my next class, I felt disoriented in amazement. At one point, I even reached for a door handle that was closing and missed it completely, pulling back as if I had grabbed it. I nearly fell backward that day. That experience changed how I understood faith. I began to realize that being a Christian is not just about saying a prayer, going to church, or reading the Bible. It is about relationship—about actually walking with God and experiencing Him in daily life. Not just reading about what He did in the past, but paying attention to what He is doing now. From that point on, my life was never quite the same. A new world of faith opened up for me, and it all started with a counselor named Matt from Chicago taking the time to sit down and talk with a quiet sixth grader. Sharing this story is an important part of who I am. Prayer has been foundational in shaping my life—from a shy sixth grader to the man I am today. To anyone who feels like they are just going through the motions in their faith—going to church, repeating the same routines, wondering if there is more—I can tell you that there is. There is more. Spend time in prayer. Be honest. Be consistent. Let it grow over time. And you may find that God meets you in ways you did not expect—not always in an audible voice, but often in a quiet awareness that He is near. And once you recognize that He is truly speaking and present with you, you will not be the same again. — Ira