Recently I’d been struggling with the idea that God loves us, all of us, including me. I’ve heard it a million times, even said it myself, but it’s such a huge concept it boggles the mind. Sometimes I can’t get my head around it.

The other day I was rummaging through the boys’ old children’s books. There on the shelf was that classic The Runaway Bunny by Margaret Wise Brown.

Remember the story? The bunny tells his mother he wants to run away and imagines all the different ways he can do it. But for every strategy, whether by sea, land or air, she has an answer. “I will become a fisherman and I will fish for you,” she says. “I will be a mountain climber and I will climb to where you are…I will be a tree that you come home to.” No matter where he goes, his mother will be there.

I could recall reading the book to the boys before bedtime, repeating those words as I turned each page, two kids in pajamas by my side. The message was clear. My sons weren’t going to outrun my love, no matter how far their adventures took them. Wasn’t that just like God’s love?

Lingering over the pictures now, I turned the well-thumbed pages, thinking of the psalms. As many others have pointed out, the language of The Runaway Bunny is a lot like Psalm 139: “Whither shall I go from thy spirit? Whither shall I flee from thy presence? … If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there thy hand shall lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.”

The Psalmist and a children’s book writer had it right. I could exclaim along with the Psalmist and say, “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me. It is too high. I cannot attain unto it” (I do believe that putting doubts into a prayer is good spiritual practice). Then I could put myself in bunny mode, and recall the childlike faith of my listeners in their PJs.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t escape God’s love.

Or “have a carrot,” as the mother rabbit says at the end.

To some people, “Iams” is just a brand name for pet food. For others, it is a powerful and inspiring way to pray.

One of the unique features of the fourth Gospel, written by John (the beloved disciple) a few decades after the Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke, is its singular structure, which is more thematic than chronological. And part of that structure is the inclusion of seven striking statements Jesus made, which have come to be called “The Seven I Ams.”

The first occurs in John 6:35, soon after Jesus miraculously fed a crowd of 5,000 with a few loaves and fishes. He said: 

“I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” (John 6:35, NIV)

It was the first of seven metaphors Jesus used to portray his divine nature and redemptive mission. And those “I Am” statements can be a great way to pray, particularly when your faith and hope need a boost.

For example, you may make a list of the seven “I Ams” and pray something like this:

1)  Lord Jesus, you said, “I am the bread of life.” Your nature is to provide and sustain life as You did for crowds on Galilean hillsides. I pray for You to meet my need today.

2)  You said, “I am the light of the world.” It is Your very nature to dispel darkness. Please light the path ahead of me and shine Your light on me.

3)  You said, “I am the door of the sheep.” You protect and shelter those who depend on You. Let nothing come my way that You have not approved.

4)  You said, “I am the good shepherd.” Your nature is to care and lead and guide. Please do that for me today.

5)  You said, “I am the resurrection and the life.” You banish sadness and impart vitality and abundance. Please resurrect my hopes and enliven me today. 

6) You said, “I am the way, the truth and the life.” Your very nature is to drive away confusion, distraction, error, doubt and death. Please banish those things from my heart, mind and spirit today.

7)  You said, “I am the true vine.” You impart Your divine beauty, grace and vitality to all those who abide in You. Help me to abide in You today and infuse me with Your nature.

Those prayers are offered as a mere example, of course. Yours will be more specific to your situation and need. And you may find, as I do, that the “I Ams” are so rich and meaningful that you can pray them every day for a week and never pray the same way twice.

Give it a try. It is a great way to connect your praying to the beauty, power and wealth of Jesus Himself. 

Are you sometimes stymied in prayer because you’re trying to get it “right”? Do your prayers all sound the same these days? Are you getting bored with your prayer life?

If so, consider praying a little poetry for a while. Specifically, do a few haiku.

Haiku is a simple and popular form of poetry that comes from Japan. Most people know it as 17 “sounds” or syllables arranged in three lines of (respectively) five, seven, and five syllables each.

Strictly speaking, there is more to a haiku than that (such as a reference to nature in general and seasons in particular), but the brevity and simplicity of the form is what helps me in prayer. Praying in haiku helps me to simplify my thoughts and focus on my feelings. It places me in the present moment. It helps me “sing a new song,” so to speak, in prayer.  

Here are a few of the haiku prayers I have recorded in my prayer journal:

fossils of seashells

high in the Himalayas;

You have done great things

* * *

the crow picks at death

like the unforgiving heart;

help me to forgive 

* * *

trees lay down their leaves

with each one I bless Your name

one sweet sacrifice

I don’t always pray in haiku, but when I do, it stirs something in me and often revives my prayer life. It is such a simple way to pray, but one that incites humility, wonder, praise and gratitude in a unique way.

You don’t have to be a poet to pray this way. You do have to be able to count to five, and seven, however. But even then, the point isn’t the poem but the prayer. So try it, and see if an ancient Japanese form of poetry can inflame something new in your prayers.

On cold mornings when I sit on the sofa to pray I’m grateful for the blanket that’s sitting there. I wrap it around me and huddle in its warmth as I sink into prayer. It’s as though I’m in my own cocoon, like a butterfly in its chrysalis awaiting transformation. O, that I would have wings.

Let me be the first to admit how my mind wanders a million different ways when I pray, settling here, flying there, coming back again and again to the divine, letting go, putting my worries and fears in God’s capable hands.

Sometimes a phrase from a psalm or two floats through my early morning brain. I was just thinking how often wings appear:

“O that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest,” said the Psalmist (55:6). Prayer is something like that, giving me a means to go where I need to go.

But then wings also offer a refuge in the Psalms, a safe haven, God’s shelter. “Keep me as the apple of thy eye; hide me in the shadow of thy wings.” (Psalm 17:8) What better place than that?

Angels, of course, have wings. In the book of Isaiah there’s a wonderful image of the seraphim, “Each had six wings: with two he covered his face, and with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew” (6:2). Makes you think of all the things a wing can do.

Finally there are the powerful eagle’s wings later in the same book. “But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint” (Isaiah 40:31).

Mount up with wings like eagles. That’s pretty good.

READ MORE: FROM CATERPILLAR TO BUTTERFLY

When I talk about prayer to others, I sometimes struggle to describe what I do. Maybe if I just said, “It’s like putting wings on your life and wings on all your desires and letting them fly.”

The other morning, as I was finishing up my prayer time, opening up the blanket, coming out of my cocoon, I stretched my arms out, the ends of the blanket in my hands. It occurred to me that indeed the blanket was just like pair of wings. I was spreading them out and was now letting go.

Who says we earthlings can’t fly?