Prayer begins in life's cracks

“The kingdom of God is within you.” — Luke 17:21
 
My spiritual path did not begin in the glow of ecstasy or the comfort of certainty, but in absence—in a sacred emptiness carved into my being by the missing embrace of maternal tenderness and the silent absence of a father’s guidance. It was an ache that offered no immediate resolution, but in time revealed itself as what I have come to call a therapeutic emptiness—a space hollowed out, not to punish, but to prepare. This void became my Gethsemane, where sorrow and longing gave birth to surrender.
 
Strangely, amid the lack, love endured. I still loved them dearly—those who had been unable to give what I needed. This paradox—that love could exist in the soil of unmet need—became the seed of a deeper spiritual awareness. It was in that hollowness, like the psalmist “broken and contrite” (Psalm 51:17), that I discovered something profound: prayer does not begin in fullness. It begins in the fissures of the human spirit, where the soul is cracked open just enough to receive something greater than itself.
 
Unity teachings offered me a language for this: “Prayer begins in life’s cracks—where we’re broken open enough to invite the Divine.” And into those cracks came a whisper, subtle yet unmistakable: “I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5). This was not theology—it was visitation. The voice did not come from the heavens above but from the stillness within. It was not distant comfort; it was Presence announcing itself.
 
For many years, I sought the Divine through outward devotion. My spiritual longing found expression in the Radha Soami and Eckankar traditions, where devotion was focused on a Living Spiritual Master—an external embodiment of divine wisdom and love. I bowed to those radiant suns, believing that enlightenment came through proximity to them. Yet even in those years, something inside me asked: Where is the Divine in me?
 
The turning came slowly but definitively. Unity teachings shattered the glass of separation. Scripture declared, “You are the temple of the living God” (2 Corinthians 6:16), and this was no longer metaphor. It was revolution. Prayer transformed from petition to partnership. The Divine was not merely “out there” in a guru or master, but alive within, waiting to be recognized and invoked.
 
Where once I inhaled deeply to reach a spiritual figure beyond myself, now each breath became an act of communion with the Christ within. The silence, once feared as a void, revealed itself to be womblike—what Meister Eckhart called the “virgin ground”—a sacred interiority where the I AM presence begins to take form.
 
Now, I tend my inner Eden: I prune the weeds of inherited lack, sow constellations of “I AM,” and walk in the garden of Spirit as both created and co-creator. In this sacred remembrance, we do not find God—we awaken to the truth that has never ceased:
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“The Father and I are one.” — John 10:30
“The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children.” — Romans 8:16
 
And so, the journey continues—not toward, but within. Breath by sacred breath, from the cracks into wholeness.
 
Alexandre Attipoe
Unity student, Ghana