On occasion I realize with dismay that a day or two has passed, prayerless.
For me prayer is a hard habit to keep, an easy habit to break; and hard to restore when I’ve lapsed.
Sometimes I fret about my relative (un)worthiness to re-enter the throne room.
The Lord is probably less picky about this than me. I picture him observing my internal civil war over proper prayer motivations and the merits and demerits that supposedly accrue to my account when I pray, or don’t.
And he says, gently, not to worry about all that. It was taken care of at the cross.
Just pray. I’m here.
And again, Knock and it will be opened to you.