When I was little, I would often pray and ask God for help: “Help me have fun today at the park,” “Help me be kind to my brother and sister,” “Help us have a good day.”
As I got a little older, I really didn’t like to pray that way. It sounded condescending for me to suppose that God was my Helper. It sounded like I had a running wish list or to-do list and wanted a butler to come alongside and help all the conditions to be just right for me to play outside or have fun or be nice.
While the little-girl-me didn’t have a full Biblical understanding of what the Bible meant that God is my Help, I think that the grown-up-me has a lot to learn from seeking a God who helps me….