Tonight we pray. And all through tomorrow. It's nothing new; we've been praying and fasting almost nonstop for Darren ever since we learned of the tumor that's lodged his brain. It is an interloper, an enemy against which we arraign every spiritual and earthly weapon at our disposal.
Prayer is a strange habit. Sometimes people treat prayer as a celestial vending machine; say the right prayers or say the prayers right, and just like pushing the button, God dispenses the appropriate answer. Strangely, it doesn't work that way. Some years ago a pastor acquaintance thought it was a good idea to ridicule the Spiritualist Lily Dale community because among other things, they believe in communicating with the dead. My response to him was that having been prayer walking through that community for years, many of these people were my friends and I didn't appreciate his mockery of them. I reminded him that ridicule is not a very effective means of reaching people for Christ. Furthermore (and to my point today), to an unbeliever Christians are just as odd. After all, we pray to a God we cannot see, who may or may not answer our prayers as we desire.
And yet we pray, and not because there is nothing else we can do. Prayer is not wishful thinking, nor is it an exercise in futility; words we offer because we can't actually do anything else. It is the first (but not the last) response we offer to God's revelation to us in his Word. Prayer is not a laundry list of things we want and hope to receive if we're good enough, as if God were some celestial Santa Claus. Genuine prayer does not take place in a vacuum, which is why so many of our prayers seem pointless. The soil in which prayer germinates, grows, and blossoms is Scripture. If detached from the Word of God, prayer degenerates into vain hope and wishes.
We pray for Darren. Scriptures command us to pray without ceasing (1 Thess. 5:17), to confess our sins, anoint with oil, and pray for healing (James 5:14-15), and yet the answers we seek are not guaranteed. Job said it well: "He knows the way that I take; when he has tried me, I shall come forth as gold" (23:10). We know this: God often leads his children through the fire, not to burn them, but to prove and purify them so they shall shine, reflecting the light of his glory with lives of faith, hope, and love. We've seen God work his miracle for Darren and Jen in the birth of their twin daughters eight years ago. We are praying for another miracle, waiting and praying, storming the gates of heaven in the name of Jesus for Darren's healing, and also for God's glory to be revealed.
Sometimes our gratitude is what has been termed a "hard eucharistos," a gift that is difficult to receive, but for which we still give thanks as it drives us to our knees in recognition of our finite wisdom and God's great mercy. It is that kind of gratitude I offer tonight as I pray for Darren.
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