Sweet Hour of Prayer

September 15, 2018

3:30 am is not normally a time I am even close to coherent. Usually, the only time I see these numerals on the clock is if I have to get up to use the bathroom. This morning was different. I had signed up for the 4:00 am time slot for our church’s 24-hour prayer vigil, so when my alarm went off, I dragged myself out of bed, threw on some clothes and headed down the road. At the front door of the church, pastor Joe greeted me and the others who had also inexplicably chosen that hour. I made a fresh pot of coffee, poured a cup and opened the door to the sanctuary which had been transformed almost into a fairyland. 

Cafe tables were scattered throughout, with a living room setting in one corner, and a park bench complete with a water fountain and flanked by evergreens in the other. Soft music was playing, and a three-ring notebook with pages of prayer requests was lying open on the table. I grabbed a few of the pages and walked over to the park bench, coffee in hand. 

We have so completely filled our lives with electronics, distractions, and unceasing labor that we have all but forgotten how to be in God’s presence for any extended length of time, but this hour of uninterrupted prayer was like a quiet soaking of a dry-sponge soul. The hour raced by; only a small fraction of the available prayer sheets were covered. I may never know how that hour impacted even one of the people for whom I prayed, but I know the effect it had on me—slowing me down, helping me focus, putting the week into perspective, and saturating this once dry soul with the life-giving waters of the Holy Spirit. If you’ve never tried something like this, I would encourage you to do so. Perhaps even a weekend retreat of silence; anything to break the vice-grip modern life holds on us. I am thankful for this hour, and look forward to the next one.