My precious friend Amy calls it carpet-smelling prayer. In Luke 5:12 (NASB), the Bible uses the idea of “falling on your face” before the Lord in prayer: “While He was in one of the cities, behold, there was a man covered with leprosy; and when he saw Jesus, he fell on his face and implored Him, saying, ‘Lord, if You are willing, You can make me clean.'”

I think the motivation behind a prayer with this much emotion, this much passion, this much desire comes from the action described in the four words that precede his falling on his face before the Lord: “when he saw Jesus.”

Oh sure, we read about Jesus. We talk about Jesus. Shoot, we even sing about Jesus. But when was the last time we saw Jesus?

No I’m not being mystical or speaking of physically viewing the living, breathing Son of God sitting across the room. I’m speaking of a much deeper view: a view that transcends mere vision.

For example, when I truly see Him for who He is and think of the Lord as my shepherd, I don’t merely envision a male human being tending bleating sheep. I don’t even simply picture the Lord Himself walking with me, staff in one hand, my hand in the other, as I find rest beside still waters—as awesome as that thought is. When I know Him and have a firsthand understanding of the depth of His character, I see in that title “shepherd” the overwhelming truth that because of who He is, “I shall not want.” It encompasses the entirety of His being, His power, and His love.

Therein lies the problem. We fail to see—truly see—Jesus.

No, wait. I need to speak in the first person, teaching these truths to myself first. So let me rewrite that previous statement: I fail to see—truly see—Jesus.

So then here’s the centuries-old question: Why do I continue in those things that distract me from seeing Jesus?

While there are many reasons for taking my eyes off of Jesus, perhaps the second chapter of the book of First John sums up the top three the best: “Do not love the world nor the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the boastful pride of life, is not from the Father, but is from the world” (verses 15–16, NASB).

It’s that pesky “boastful pride of life” that seems to be effective at taking my eyes off of Jesus. But it might not be in the way that seems most obvious. The problem comes because I know my own sinfulness. When I use the eyes of truth to view who I am, I focus on those past sins and evil desires and—come on now, I know I can’t be the only one—I think “He’s not going to hear me anyhow because I just can’t seem to ‘get all the sin out!'” So I remain quiet.

Oh the pride in the delusion that my unworthiness is greater than His grace.

But there’s that word: grace. The grace that He gives me over and over and over and over is given unconditionally, unceasingly, and undeservedly. It’s the grace that makes Him God and leaves me in need of a God of grace.

And it is in remembering that grace that I let go of that which I held so tightly, and in the letting go, my gaze turns to Jesus.

And in gazing upon Jesus, I am compelled to fall upon my face in the adoration that flows from “carpet-smelling prayer.”