The other day I was sitting on my armchair with my baby son sleeping in my arms. The other kids were at school, and my wife was having a quick nap.

What did I do? I propped open my Bible on a cushion, and spent some time reading and praying.

I’m not bragging about my holy habits. I’m only writing this because that’s such a rare occurrence — me, grabbing a quick opportunity to pray, whatever else is going on.

Why is it so rare? Because over the past 15 years of being a Christian, I’ve developed a lot of little preferences about how I like to pray, and without my realising it, they became obstacles to prayer.

If you’ve ever read a book or article or watched a video about how to make the most of your personal devotions/prayer times/quiet time/spending time with God — whatever you’ve come to call it — they often include the same types of suggestions. Set some time apart, carve out half an hour, or a hour if you can; get by yourself in a room or space free of distractions; schedule it into your day and keep that appointment with the Lord; a notebook to write thoughts, prayers, meditations on the Bible. These are really helpful tips, that can make a difference in the depth, focus, and richness of our prayer life and Bible reading.

But — you can still pray, even if you can’t have an hour alone at the same time every day in a perfect sanctuary with your Bible and a lovely journal with an elegant fountain pen. (On another note, you can have all those things and still not have a rich prayer time!)

My own prayer preferences have become far, far more… well, fussy. These ways that I have found helpful in getting the most out of my prayer times, have actually become obstacles to prayer.

I like to be completely alone; no distractions. Not even a possibility of being interrupted.

I like it to be quiet. But not too quiet! And I like to be able to speak aloud and sing and sometimes to pace to and fro.

I like to have at least a clear hour in which to pray and read the Bible, with ample time and space to read and study at least 3 chapters (one Psalm, one or two from the Old Testament, one from the New Testament).

I like to underline and make marginal notes, which means I need my fine-nibbed pen and 6-inch steel ruler (for neat lines!) and a surface to lean on.

I like to pray through the Lord’s Prayer, examine my life in light of the Ten Commandments, confess my sins, sing that day’s psalm as well as read it, recite or sing the Apostle’s Creed, and close with a doxology. (This is why I like to be completely alone!)

I like to think through the texts that I’m reading and turn those words into prayers for myself, my family, the elders and deacons, and the church.

…et cetera.

Each one of these practices is a way to draw closer to God through his holy Word, a way to make the Bible’s truth settle deeper into my head and heart, a way to make sure I don’t keep praying the same old things about the same old things. They’re good practices.

But you can see that the longer your list of preferences and practices, the harder it can be to achieve the Perfect Prayer Time. And with three kids in the house? Forget about it. And what I had started to do is to fall into a way of thinking, ‘If I can’t pray like that, I can’t pray’. Which, as family life gets busier, effectively starts to mean, ‘I can’t pray.’

I’ve taken these practices that I’ve learned over the years can help me engage in prayer — but I’ve taken all these preferences and I’ve made them into the very essence of prayer. So much that if I can’t have those fussy, picky elements all in place, I simply won’t pray. I’ll tell myself that the circumstances prevented me from praying.

But what do I really need in order to pray?

A soul, a mouth, and a moment — and the ear of the Lord.

I’ve got a soul, and everyone who knows me can testify that I’ve got a mouth. God is named in Scripture as ‘he who hears prayer’ (Psalm 65:2). All I need to wait for is a moment. Do I really lack a moment?

I identified a huge list of things that help me to engage in the practice of prayer; and then I allowed these helps to hinder me in lifting my soul and its burdens to the God who loves me.

And the other day, with no perfect setting, no ruler to make lines with, no surface to lean on for note-taking, no silence, no guarantee of an hour or even a minute without interruption from the baby sleeping in my arms, I just started to pray. All I had was a moment amongst the busyness and chatter of family life.

What I found was that, grabbing an unlikely moment while the baby and the wifey were sleeping, I was gifted with the best part of an hour praying and reading, in circumstances under which I would normally imagine that prayer is impossible.

Don’t let your preferences become obstacles. If you’re a believer, you have the ear of the Lord; you have a soul, you have a mouth. All you need to pray is a moment.