I think, read and talk a lot about prayer.
I pray a lot.
And yet like all others of my species, I never feel like I have a full grasp of it.
I get moments of understanding and I truly believe it is the vehicle God chooses to work through here on planet earth.
But I also know…so well…sometimes He seems to work in spite of our prayers.
And sometimes it certainly looks like our prayers did not work.
Oh, yes, I know.
Prayer is conversation.
And prayer stopped the sun in the sky for three hours.
Prayer changed pagan king’s minds and hearts and prayer raised dead sons of widows and such.
But the skeptic and the scoffer will point out that maybe those things would have happened anyway so…what’s the point?
And I don’t have an answer for that kind of doubt.
But I will tell you this.
The other day I passed one of the many road crews at work around our city.
And I slowed waaaaaaayyyyy down long before the guy holding the sign came into view.
I started slowing as soon as all those orange vests registered in my long view.
And I commenced to praying and looking for one worker in particular.
He is the son of dear friends.
Many years ago when he was just a little kid who was friends with our son, his parents moved down to my pew during the call for prayer time at a Sunday morning service.
He had hit a little bump in one of his subjects at school and they didn’t want to go all the way down front so they stopped where I was and asked me to pray for him to not struggle with his classes.
I prayed what was probably the lamest prayer I have ever prayed in my life and as we lifted our heads I wondered if they were kind of regretting the decision to not move all the way down to where the big guns were praying.
But I kept praying.
And while I have probably never spoken more than a few sentences at a time with this young man, I carry him in a special place in my heart.
I feel closer to him than many other young people from that era because of the time I have spent just lifting him in prayer.
It also affects how I view road crews all around this country as I drive.
I take those construction signs personally because I know and pray for one of those persons.
And all the men and women in orange construction vests matter much to some other people.
That couple have become like family to me because we pray for them and theirs…they pray for us and ours.
And it binds us closer every year to the heart of God.
I don’t have to know how prayer works.
I don’t have to know why sometimes it seems like it did or it didn’t because I don’t think that was ever the point of why God told us to pray.
I don’t have an answer for the skeptic or the doubter or the cynic.
I just know that I know.
Prayer is a good thing that God wants for His children.
He still prays.
End of story.