prayer encounters

While writing Prayer Encounters I reached out to a longtime friend who is an excellent writer with a very keen eye. I tried to tell her what I was trying to do, but had a hard time articulating it.  She barraged me with questions until I could finally spit something out that started to make sense.  It’s what I needed. 

Beth has had a rocky relationship with God over the years, but not for a lack of effort.  She has tried on faith in many colors, but nothing seems to fit her. 

I asked her what she thought about praying with other people and she said, “AGGH!  That’s terrifying! It’s the most intimate thing there is.” 

Truer words were never spoken. 

A few months later she called me in an anxious state.  “Paul, can you tell me why some people have much, much harder lives that others?” 

I told her that I wasn’t sure I could answer that question.  I dread THAT question.  There is no good answer.  Many try to rationalize it away.  “We all suffer.  Life is hard.”  But you do not have to be a pastor to know that there are most definitely some people who have a harder life than the rest of us.  It cannot always explained away by saying that people bring it upon themselves, which is sometimes true.  It’s a hard fact. 

“You’re a pastor!  You’re supposed to have an answer for this!”  I wish.

“What’s going on, Beth?”  I asked.  I already knew that she lost her parents at a young age.  I know that she has had more than her share of difficult relationships.  I know that she struggles with anxiety and depression. 

Within the last week, though, she had another break-up, found out she was pregnant, and shortly found out that she had lost the baby.  During the procedure they discovered cancer. 

It is not fair.  It totally sucks. 

There was silence.  Then she asked, “Can we pray?  And don’t make this into a story!” I knew how difficult it was for her to ask that question. 

(By the way, I wrote the story anyway, but just for her.  I was so touched by it and I did not want to forget it.  After reading it, she gave me permission to share it if I changed her name.) 

I began to pray.  I lifted up her grief and her hurt and her anger.  I asked for healing of her body and soul.  I asked God to remove her depression and let her experience joy.  At this point she cut in with her own plea, “God, I would be satisfied with just not feeling miserable!  You don’t even have to make me feel great or joyful or happy.  Just take away the misery I feel every day.  I’m fine with ok.”

Within her voice lay a bare bones, honest expression of pain. It cut right into my heart and I believe it cut into the heart of God as well, for he is infinitely more compassionate that I am. 

I closed the prayer by asking God to reveal himself to her.  Sometimes what we really need is to just know he’s there. 

We talked for a while after that.  She was clearly lighter in spirit.  We joked and told old stories. 

Two weeks later, I got a text from Beth. “It happened.”  What happened?  “God showed up.”  What? How?

She started by telling me that I might think she needs to be institutionalized.  She was walking her dog down a wooded path the last evening when all of a sudden what must have been thousands of fireflies converged upon her enveloping her.  A strange occurrence especially when you consider that it was March and fireflies had at least another month before they begin to appear in her region of the country. 

I asked her why she believed this was God showing up?

She explained that the last time she had ever seen a firefly she was a child at her grandparents’ farm.  “The last time I felt truly happy.” 

Since that wonderful, wooded walk with God, whenever she sees fireflies they remind her that he is there and he cares. 

She calls them “God’s glitter”.

Since we got our dog, Chuy,  we have been getting to know our neighbors.  When you walk a dog (especially one as awesome as ours) neighbors come out of the woodwork.  People are just more apt to talk to a person walking a dog than walking alone.  People that walk alone are watched cautiously from windows, but walk a dog and somehow you have passed some kind of screening process.  I guess people that walk dogs are just more approachable.  Easy conversation.  Talk about the dog.

One neighbor I have gotten to know is Sam.  I had seen Sam working on his yard before and exchanged nods, but had never introduced myself.  One day while walking Chuy, Sam was sitting in his garage with the door open and he called me over.  Sam is about the easiest person in the world to talk to and he does not even need a dog. 

We covered all the typical first time conversation topics: weather, sports, my dog, his kids and grandkids, his retirement, my profession.  I have one of those professions that either kills the conversation or opens it up to very deep levels.  I am a minister.  Usually the initial response is something of a confession, “Well…I haven’t been to church in awhile.”  Which was how Sam responded, but he continued, “I am a Christian, though, and I read the Bible regularly.  We used to go to church all the time, but then we moved here and we just have not found a new one.” 

We chatted a little more on this subject.  He asked about my church and how I got into ministry.  I told him about the book that I had written and would be out soon.  It got us on the subject of prayer.  It looked like our conversation was coming to a close, but then he said, “Keep me in your prayers.  I’m having knee replacement surgery next Tuesday.”  I told him about my prayer resolution to not delay to pray.  He smiled and took my hand.  He has a strong, athletic hand.  I prayed. 

He ended up delaying his surgery.  He just didn’t feel good about it.  We chatted whenever I walked by with Chuy.  Eventually, he rescheduled his surgery.  The week before he called me over again.  He had a copy of my book and wanted me to sign it.  I joked that now it would be worth a penny more.  He looked me straight in the eyes and said, “No.  Now it’s priceless.”  I said it was sure nice to have such a neighbor.  He corrected me again, “Friend.” 

His surgery went fine. 

One evening, a couple of days after he came home from the hospital, my wife and I were walking with Chuy and for the first time our newborn son, Nelson.  He and his wife, Nancy,  came out to greet us on the sidewalk.  They were both all smiles. He said all the standard yet sincere things you say to new parents.  Then he said, “Paul, your book has inspired me.  Let me lead us in a prayer.”  He took my hand and we all, including Chuy, formed a circle around our beautiful, long hoped for child.  He prayed.  I felt like we were a family standing around a Thanksgiving Day table–a table prepared by God.

It was a full circle, a very full circle.

After a few months of serving a church in Nashville, I was missing my group prayer time.  One day there was a knock at the office door.  I had been in ministry long enough to know that knocks at the door from strangers were often costly.  There is a regular flow of needy folks.  They all have a story and they all have a need. 

However, this stranger has given me a lot through the years. I now count him amongst my closest friends.  Phil is the pastor of a nearby church.  He came to introduce himself to me and invite me to a weekly prayer group with other area pastors. 

To be honest, I was not sure I could work it into my schedule.  Also, I was a bit trepidatious about praying with such a diverse group.   I was comfortable with my Presbyterian fellows and perhaps a Methodist or Lutheran, but Southern Baptist, Charismatic, Church of Christ, Non-denominational?  African-American, Asian, Latino, Middle Eastern, African? 

Four years later, I hardly ever miss a Thursday with my brothers and occasional sister or two.  As a visiting Presbyterian Church of America fellow put it, “My p(for Presbyterian) is getting smaller and my C (for Christian) is getting bigger.” 

When you pray with people, your differences begin to fall away.  To my memory, in four years nobody in that group has ever had an argument over baptism or sanctification or any other denominational differences. 

In prayer we say “Our Father” not My Father.  We recognize that we are all siblings before God, not neighbors or distant cousins.  Certainly not enemies!

Everybody has something to bring to the party from their tradition.  I love to sometimes just sit back and watch the diversity of prayer going on.  Some on their knees, some standing with hands raised, some meditative, some eyes wide open.  Hands are laid on, heads are anointed. It is a beautiful sight to behold.

We celebrate with each other and mourn for each other.  We lift up our neighborhoods.   We pray for our congregations.  We pray for our loved ones.  We pray for the students and teachers.  We pray for the single mothers and fatherless children.  We pray for husbands and fathers.  We pray for the childless and the widows.  We pray that wars may cease and that the glory of our God may shine.  We sing, we praise, and we confess. 

And then we share a meal, usually Chinese, but sometimes Mexican.  There’s never an argument about that either.

          I have observed many people fight cancer.  It is a difficult thing to experience and it is at such a time that people lean most heavily on their family. 

          But what if you do not have a family?

          Jo is such a person.  Most of her family has passed away and what blood relations she does have are distant.  She and her husband have gone through much of their life without family.  They both struggled with a variety of disabilities, but somehow they have always managed to roll along in life finding people along the way to help them.

          But when Jo was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer, I wondered who would be there for her.  Mike had been placed in a nursing facility with increasing dementia.  As her pastor, I began to feel the weight of caring for a family-less woman. 

          She was scheduled for a double mastectomy.  I battled my way through rush hour traffic on the way to the hospital with a big thick book on my side to keep me company in the waiting room. 

          I arrived at the nurses’ station to ask for Jo’s room number and there was a woman standing in front of me beating me to the punch.  After exchanging surprised introductions we went together to a tiny room where Jo had been prepped for surgery.    

          Jo was so happy to see us.  She said, “I see you’ve met each other.”  Martha and I smiled and nodded.  Before we could even take a seat, the door opened and a petite woman entered with a big smile.  “I made it!  Traffic was horrible!”

          She looked at both Martha and I, not surprised at all to see a growing collection of supporters in the room.  Jo introduced each of us to each other with great joy and pride.  It was quite a full house.

          We began to chat and keep Jo company.  Jo asked if I would share some scripture.  I did.  As we were discussing a passage a tech came in to take Jo off.  We all joined hands including the tech, Thomas, who Jo was already on a first name basis with, and prayed. 

          Thomas took her away and we all adjourned to the waiting room.  We began to share how we will each knew Jo.  Martha was a nurse assistant at the retirement building where Jo lives.  Jo befriended her and had been a great spiritual support.  They had become true spiritual sisters. 

          Kim had known Jo since 1992.  She did Jo’s nails.  At the time she was not a person of faith.  She attributes her faith to Jo’s loving nurture over the years.  She shared her own deeply moving story of salvation and forgiveness. 

          After talking non-stop for a few hours, Maggie, an elder from my church, showed up.   Maggie, who has a real estate license, had helped Jo and Mike when their house had gone into foreclosure before she was even a member of the church. 

          We all shared our Jo stories.  Some were funny, others deeply moving.  My big, thick book sat untouched at my side.  What a life this woman had had. 

          And what a family she had.  A God made family.

          Jo came through the surgery fine.  6 weeks later, I sat with Jo, Martha, and Kim in an oncologist’s office awaiting the results of her scan.     

          We were all very nervous and making small talk, when all of the sudden Jo burst into tears.  She needed more than small talk, she needed prayer.  Her family joined hands once again and prayed for healing and peace. 

          Though we are all people of faith who believe God can do anything, we were doubtful.  It didn’t look good.  The doctor had told us early on that if there were more than 4 cancerous nodes then it was likely that it had spread to other places in her body.  The surgeon had removed 24 malignant nodes. 

          The doctor entered and took a seat.  We braced ourselves.  She said, “We found no evidence of cancer anywhere.” 

          We were all dumbfounded, not yet ready to celebrate.  Jo looked like she might dissolve onto the floor.  The doctor went on to say that she was as surprised as we were by the results.

          After the doctor left the room we all smiled at each other.  I thought Jo might get up and dance.  We all joined hands and praised God family style!