The Chair Beside You

There is a beautiful story Brennan Manning tells about an elderly man who struggled with prayer. He had tried reading books about it, but prayer still seemed complicated to him.

Then one day, he began doing something very simple.

He imagined Jesus sitting in the empty chair beside his bed, and he talked to Him.

No impressive words. No complicated formula. Just an old man talking with Jesus as though He were right there—because he had come to believe that He was.

This became such a precious part of his life that he spent hours simply talking with Jesus.

When the man became ill, he told a minister about his unusual prayer habit, asking him not to tell his daughter. He was afraid she might think him a little strange.

A few days later, the daughter called to say her father had died peacefully. But she mentioned something that puzzled her.

Just before he died, her father had leaned over and rested his head on the empty chair beside his bed.

What looked like an empty chair to everyone else had become, to him, a place of meeting with Jesus.

I love that.

Sometimes we make intimacy with God far more complicated than He ever intended it to be. Perhaps prayer begins simply by slowing down long enough to remember: He is here.

Psalm 1 describes the person who delights in the Lord as:

“a tree planted by streams of water,

which yields its fruit in season

and whose leaf does not wither.”

— Psalm 1:3

A tree planted beside water doesn't have to strain to find its source. Its roots simply remain near what gives it life.

Maybe that is what God is inviting us into as well.

To sit.

To stay.

To listen.

To talk with Him about the ordinary things, the painful things, the things we don't know how to put into beautiful prayers.

Our Heavenly Father is not waiting for us to become better at prayer before we come near. He is inviting us to draw close and learn the sound of His voice through His Word and the quiet companionship of His presence.

And slowly, something happens.

The dry and lonely places within us begin to change. What once felt like a desert can become a garden—a quiet place where our souls put down roots, where truth grows, and where we begin to flourish in the presence of the One who has been there all along.

Perhaps today you don't need more words.

Perhaps you simply need to pull up a chair.

“Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.” — James 4:8

Lord, teach me to slow down and simply be with You. Help me recognize Your presence in the ordinary moments of my day. Plant me close to You, where my soul can grow deep roots and bear fruit in its season. Amen.