When I was a much younger Christian, prayer seemed somewhat daunting. It was discussed with hushed, reverent voices- a holy ritual of cleansing and adoration that I never seemed to be able to attain. I followed several promising methods with various acronyms. I bought numerous prayer journals. I set prayer times, established prayer closets, and made lists of answered prayers. Though none of these efforts was completely fruitless, I still felt like the kind of prayer that moved mountains was just beyond my ability to grasp.
Over the years, I learned the kind of prayer I was attempting to do was based on my own attempts to master something that was never meant to be departmentalized and conquered....at least not in the sense I was trying to attain. Instead, as God led me through the challenges to my faith in life, I found my prayers transformed. Instead of my laundry list, my prayers began to be more exclamations of delight in God's revealing his heart to me. I, in turn, revealed more of my heart to Him. He would respond back to me, and somehow, I found that I was engaged in a conversation! It did not follow the scripted methods I'd studied. It was not reserved for a particular time of the day. In fact, my prayers almost seemed very ANTI-religious. I am convinced if the prayer police examined my prayers, I would have been found lacking....yet in my heart of hearts, I know that this type of prayer is exactly what my Lord and Savior would have me to do. Breathe in his words and heart whispers; breathe out my wonder at how He works and moves. I had begun to believe that I had mastered this prayer thing after all.
My experience has been just about the time I think I'm done, God is orchestrating opportunities for me to remember just who I am, and more importantly, who HE is. Well, this was no exception. Several weeks ago, my precious 18 year old daughter made some choices that forced us to allow her to be free to pursue that which she believed was the only path she would follow. This was not an easy decision on our part, and was one wrought with much heartache. What made this time even more difficult was the addition of an individual whom I believed to be an extremely bad influence in my daughter's life. I was angry, hurt, and bewildered about the way things were going. Bitterness had begun to creep into my heart toward this individual whom I vilified as the cause of all the negative things going on. As I sat nursing my resentment, God's unmistakable voice came to me clear and strong, "I want you to pray for him." I was stunned at first. This was definitely not my plan for this young man. I immediately saw the loophole in God's request, though, and cautiously agreed that I would pray for him. In the darkest part of my mind in that room where I hide just how callous I can be, I was exultant! Yes, I would pray. I would pray hail and brimstone down on my enemy just like the Psalmists. Before I had the chance to flap my arms and shake my tail end in a celebratory chicken dance, God stepped into my hidden room. His look spoke first, but His haunting question followed, "Is that the way I deal with you?" The, "No, but...." vanished on my lips. I KNEW what He wanted and it was more than I could bear. I begged God, "Please, don't ask me to do that." I felt like Jonah. It is one thing to pray for your enemies. It is quite another to give up the right to see what you feel is justice done. You see, I KNOW the grace of God. I know how possible it is to take someone so stuck in their own self-righteous opinions that they are an offense to all around them and to transform them into someone who is a blessing and fragrance. I know that grace because it was showered upon me. I just didn't WANT to see THIS person redeemed. I wanted him to suffer and struggle through life. I wanted him to wallow with the pigs and NOT realize he was a prodigal. I wanted to be right when this life my daughter chose fizzled out. I wanted so much, but I did NOT want a miracle. You see, I told you I can be callous and cold.
I stood there wavering between obedience and rebellion. As always, God did not force Himself. He simply offered the option and a glimpse into being a partner in His ultimate plan. I know WITH HIM is always better than WITHOUT HIM, no matter what I can humanly perceive at the moment, so I chose to partner with Him and pray. God upped the ante on me and said, "I want you to pray for him and send a prayer to him daily. Just so we're clear, pray for him like you would pray for your daughter." Gulp. My daughter is sweet, kind, sparkling with personality, smart, charming, and.....well.....a part of me. HOW in the world am I supposed to pray for him like THAT????? The answer drifted through my outrage softly, yet firmly, "Through Me."
I texted my first prayer, which was probably as sterile a prayer as I've ever prayed in my life. I told God once he realized who was sending these texts, he probably wouldn't read them. He might block them entirely. He most likely would mark them as some sort of spam. God told me it didn't matter, to leave that up to Him. This act of prayer wasn't really to see results in this young man anyway. It was to transform my bitter, angry heart and to keep my light from being put under a bushel. Oh, that hurt. All this agony on my part, and God didn't even need my personal sacrifice to make His purposes happen in the life of this young man, my daughter, or anyone in this situation. He did want me to take the spade and dig deep into my own heart and remove the weeds that had grown there. I needed to remove the weeds that said I was better than this young man.....that I had arrived at holiness somehow, so that I had the right to sit in judgement as to whether or not he was beyond God's ability to redeem and restore. Like Peter, I wept bitterly with understanding.
Since I wrote this, you might think that I chose to tell you this story because it has a happy ending. Nope. Every day, I come to this place of obedience and there is a second or two of hesitation. Some days are easier than others. I still find myself confessing my own dark thoughts that persist and seeking God's light, truth, and restoration in my own life as I walk in intercessory prayer. Slowly, I find that my hatred is being replaced by awe at how much God loves this young man to call daily prayers down on his behalf. I don't know how long I will be called to this service. Somehow, I suspect my own response and heart will determine the duration more than any action of the young man or any connection to my daughter. In the meantime, it is my hope that if you are being called to pray for your enemies, you will recall just how God has dealt with you and rejoice in that knowledge. Who knows, you just may see the miracle of repentance. Either way, you will surely be changed. I know I have been.
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