“Far be it from me that I should sin against the Lord by failing to pray for you.” (I Samuel 12:23)
I ran after them, swishing my arms like a windshield-wiper, totally disregarding how a neighbor might perceive my mental stability. The purple one caught my eye. Ah, yes. That hand-written request by the daughter of an incarcerated man. She asked for strength to hold on until her father would be released. I hung my head. I’d forgotten. Then the slip of paper with info about a local ministry that provided hope for recovery from addiction. I handed them a twenty that day, committed to pray for their efforts. I did. A few times. And the picture of Grace, the adult daughter of a missionary couple. She’d chosen to rebel against the faith of her parents. Ah ha! The photo hadn’t blow away. No sir. I’d taped it to the inside of the front cover. Only it had been awhile since I’d taken a look at it (Silly me, who routinely checks the inside cover of a journal?)
The sweeping hand of God in the form of a seasonal wind that day brought to mind several ‘I’ll pray for you’ promises. Seems they’d suffered the effects of ‘out of sight, out of mind’.
As for those requests permantly penned on lined pages? Well, they certainly won’t be blowing away. But are they being read and prayed for?
Acesss Garden of Eden mentality. Let the blame shifting begin. “Lord, you know how hectic my life is right now. If only You’d just bring these people to mind I would be more faithful to my promise to pray for them.”
And He does. So grateful for the Spirit of God to shout louder than competing voices throughout the course of my day.
He knows my desire to pray because He put it there to begin with.
Yet He knows my limitations. Last I checked I was still human.
Truth is, He doesn’t need me. Prayer is an opportunity to connect my spirit to His, to carry out God’s predetermined will and move in the lives of others. It’s an invitation to participate in the working of miracles. It’s mutually beneficial.
Hark! I hear a gust of wind. The movement of the spirit? Or another attempt to snatch those prayer requests? Either way, I clutch my journal close to my heart. And pray.