I have an odd relationship with prayer. I can’t not do it. Prayer just happens, I find myself talking to God in short sentences, odd words, and wordless breaths during the day. Almost like I talk to my family when we are with each other.
Yet, I still wonder what difference prayer makes often. If I pray for my daughter’s healing, will God refuse to heal her because I didn’t pray long enough, loud enough, with the right words, with the right faith, with fasting? When she doesn’t get better, or harder, gets worse – is there a fault with my prayers?
If there is, then that is not a god I want to worship. It isn’t the God I see revealed in Jesus.
When I hear of my friends having a hard time, I pray. If I can do anything practical, I will. However, often there is nothing I can do, other than assuring them of my love and continuing to pray. Does the outcome change because I pray? If I didn’t find out about something, if I was ill, if I was distracted, if for some reason I don’t pray for my neighbour, then does God not act? Somehow, that again seems wrong.
Maybe what happens is that God does what He was always going to do, but that my part in it differs? Maybe God acts, alongside Fred, Betty and Wilma, instead of Fred, Betty, Wilma, and Carolyn. Maybe the reason for me to pray is not that God needs a certain poundage of prayer, but that in praying for myself and others, I see something of God’s heart and am changed?I know that when I am driving to meet an ambulance, not knowing how bad seizures have got and crying out to God, “You could have done something about this and you haven’t. That hurts. That tears me apart. I hate it” then God doesn’t leave me.
I know that when I am driving to meet an ambulance, not knowing how bad seizures have got and crying out to God in the midst of tears (if you’ve never driven on the M6 in tears, then you’ve never really tested your guardian angels!), “You could have done something about this and you haven’t. That hurts. That tears me apart. I hate it” then God doesn’t leave me, nor strike me down with a thunderbolt.
I don’t know what happens when we pray. I don’t know why some prayers seem to be answered and some don’t. I don’t know why some people seem to live in the land of miracles and for others, the miracle is not losing fingernails in the hanging on. I’ve probably seen more unanswered prayer than answered – but I carry on praying, because…because…
…because prayer connects me with God, and even all I can do is hold myself or others before Him because I can’t even find the words, then sitting with God makes a difference, somehow.