The Prayer of a Barely Righteous Man

Heard some tough news this week; a cousin is in the fight of her life with a rare and aggressive form of cancer. Last summer, I found out on Facebook that a beloved friend was diagnosed with breast cancer. She faces surgery and several rounds of chemotherapy. And over the last year and a half, at least four other friends have had their jobs eliminated, or found themselves displaced, out of work, or homeless due to the sinking economy. We watched as our best friends saw their marriage go down the toilet last year, too.

I’ve whispered many a silent prayer for these folks, sometimes daily, sometimes once a week in church; but all have frequently been in my thoughts. But I feel I’ve let them down. When I pray, sometimes I’m distracted, detached or feel like I haven’t chosen the right words, tone or urgency; or simply haven’t prayed enough. And when I do remember to pray, sometimes I think I’m doing these souls a disservice because, with head bowed and eyes closed, I’m as inclined to rattle off a list of my own petty personal prayer requests, than spend a few extra minutes in thought for friends and family truly in need. Oh God, give me this, take away that, let me do this, and  oh, my back hurts today- wah, wah- make it better please. Blah blah blah. A-men. 

So if, as a Christian, I’m called on to pray, why do I suck at it so much?

Do I ever once thank Him for anything? Do I ever really think about others; not just in terms of the generic ‘body’, but really concentrate on the people who are close and choose to share their lives with me? Do I ever stop and consider that right now, the really tough issues-- like what's going on with my cousin- should take prayer precedent over all my trivial whining or constant complaints?

So I ask again, if as a Christian I am called on to pray, why do I suck at it so much?

How do I know these shout-outs to God, whispered during a lull in the work day or at a signal in traffic or just before falling asleep at night, are even effective?  And when I really meditate on the huge life altering and monumental challenges I, or my loved ones are facing- why do my prayers seem so small?  Does God actually hear them? And if so, why aren’t the sick I pray for getting better? Why don’t my friends have jobs? Why aren't marriages being restored? Though valid, these questions- in an Almighty sense, of course- are ridiculous. Of course God hears my prayers. He’s working on all of these issues even now, whether He decides to let me in on what He's doing or not. He even hears when I'm praying for me, the big stuff and the small.

For several years when I was sick with sporadic severe stomach pains, unable to sleep and only hoping to live to see another sunrise, He heard me- I saw the sun come up. When surgery had to be done, and I was scared and worried whether I’d come out of the anesthesia or not, He heard me- I woke up. When I thought my heart had been irrevocably broken and found myself on the Monroe Street Bridge in Spokane late one night, crying; debating whether to leap over the rail or not, He heard me- I didn’t jump. When I was out of gas, with no wallet or cash and pleading to find them so I wouldn't be late to work, He heard me-the wallet was under the front seat all the time. 

Though it doesn’t always work that way, during my life’s major crossroads and little inconveniences, He’s heard me. He’s always heard me. He hears me now, this very moment, whether clouded by concern for my missing billfold in the bright midday sun at a gas station, or in real physical pain and pacing the living room in the dead of a sleepless night. In every nook and cranny of my life, whether I’m feeling good or not so good, super spiritual or as articulate as a house fly, He hears me, knows me,  knows what I’m trying to say. He gets me. 

But as a prayer warrior, sometimes I feel like I’m bringing up the rear; not fully enough engaged in the battle. I let ‘busyness’ get in the way, or I forget, or am just too lazy. It shames me. And if, as Christians we’re all to share in the burden of prayer, why does it feel sometimes like I’m not carrying my weight? Like I need to apologize to Cilla and Diane, Jeremie, Trish, Chris, Brian and Bhret and others for failing to hold up my end of the prayer bargain?  But isn’t that silly? The purpose of praying is to think of others and get the focus off myself, and what have I done? I’ve made it all about me. Once more, I have it all ass-backwards. 

And I know better, too. God doesn’t care how I pray; He just wants me to pray. To fellowship, to tell Him what’s on my mind and listen to what He’s trying to say to me; to keep the lines of communication open. Puny petitions or lengthy prose or whether He answers right away or in His own good time, from my heart to God’s ear He hears it all and it’s all a big deal to Him. And when I do pray for Cilla and Diane, Jeremie, Trish, Chris, Brian and Bhret and others, there really is no right or wrong way to do it. The point is, to just do it. And know other folks far more artful and equipped at it are praying, too.

So whether I pray without ceasing or intermittently, on my knees or on the job; praying with the fervor of Saint Paul or babbling with the incoherency of a Saint Bernard, God understands. He understands what I’m trying to pray as if Shakespeare had written it for me himself. It’s all good. God’s got it covered- he hears me and understands. Always has and always will, I've seen it first-hand. His grace has brought me safe this far through the minefield of my own wayward life, so what other proof do I need, oh me of such little faith?

Next time I pray, I'll ask Him.