The recliner groaned as I sank into it, the weary springs clanging. Across from me, a wise friend—fifty years old but weathered beyond his years—slurped his coffee. His gaze wasn’t on me but beyond, watching a fat squirrel cling to the rough bark of an oak.

“He keeps the others away,” the old man murmured. “Greedy little thing.”

Our conversation drifted like fallen leaves, words coming and going, never quite landing. But when I asked if he wanted to pray, something changed. His lips moved without sound—just quiet, awe-filled gasps. His eyes glistened as though he saw beyond his living room, beyond the window, beyond this world.

I started to pray, but my words faltered. He wasn’t asking for anything. He was beholding.

That moment changed me. My prayers had been heavy with burdens, filled with needs and cries for help. But my friend came to God with nothing but worship.

David once wrote, “One thing I have asked of the Lord, that I will seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in His temple” (Psalm 27:4).

Busyness reduces prayer to a transaction—words spoken, requests made. But the gospel calls us back. The cross reveals God's beauty, drawing our hearts to adoration.

When was the last time you worshiped God, not for what He has done, but simply for who He is?

Will you stop long enough to see?