One day I was walking along the beach about an hour from our home. The waves were beating against volcanic rocks that looked like something off the surface of the moon. I then came to a beautiful spot with a reddish-brown arched cliff facing the waters. As I turned to gaze upon the waves pounding against the rocks, I could hear a roar up in the sky. It sounded like a jet plane soaring above my head. But when I looked there was no jet, just a continual rhythmic roaring. What was this phenomenon? It was the roaring of the waves being amplified by the cliffs in the background. The cliffs served as a sounding board to project the roar above me.
Prayer is like the roar of the sea. It ebbs and flows. It is deep calling out to deep. It continually rises and crashes. There are times when it is gentle, but then there are times when it is fierce. It is the Father calling to the Son and the Son calling to the Father.
At that same place I saw an eagle flying off the cliffs above the water. I was amazed at how it soared without flapping its wings. It was being carried by the wind and it flew with such grace. Only occasionally would it gently flap its wings. It knew the wind and enjoyed being moved by it.
The eagle also was like a person who knows how to pray. There is not much self-effort involved in true prayer; rather the person of prayer is energized by the wind of the Spirit. He glides on this wind being brought higher and higher. This is why Paul taught us to “pray in the Spirit” (Eph. 6:18; Jude 20).