1203 little words on praying
I'm just trying to find a missing purse.
My mind has been focused on one admittedly odd object all week: my 14-year-old daughter's purse.
A denim purse, to be exact. One with her money, eyeglasses, and various knick-knacks in it. Not her only purse, mind you. After being married for nearly 21 years and having two teenage girls, a lady having only one purse is a crime because what if said purse doesn't match a certain outfit? I don't know. Females are complicated.
Sometime over the past few weeks, my daughter lost her purse. The one with money, glasses, etc. So each morning this week, and during my daily runs, I've prayed for this purse to magically reappear. Why? It's not so much because of the money (though I know she'd love to get it back). It's not so much because of the glasses (though I'm not sure how she'll read anything 20 feet away from here anymore). A lot of my reasons for wanting my girl to get the purse back is for her own confidence. She's the one who tends to lose things more often than not. She's a bit careless. Whether or not she gets that from me or my wife, who's to say?
When I say aloud any prayers to God, or when I whisper them, or when I type them out in my brain and read them silently, I tend to pause. I hesitate. Because too often I feel like the things I'm praying for either a) won't get answered, or b) are too frivolous for God to care about.
I guess there's a third reason I pause. Being worthy. Am I? There are a lot of mornings I feel defeated before I open my Bible. Who am I to disturb the throne of God with any requests? And honestly, most of these requests are being added to my list out of sheer desperation. A "break glass in case of emergency" type of situation. The incredible writer Hanif Abdurraqib talks a bit about prayer during a time in his early 20s when he was facing the loss of a job and possible eviction.
"I did all of this because I needed something, I needed to survive, and nothing else had worked, and I didn't want to know what would be on the other side of me not figuring out an answer this time, and so I placed myself at the mercy of what I believed to be an unseen savior, a savior who might have answers for the times I couldn't save myself." (from There's Always This Year: On Basketball and Ascension)
Hanif and I would disagree on some theological points, but the basis of this thought is one I can resonate with: I can't figure this out anymore, and I'm tired of trying, so please God, take over.
This week my daily Bible reading took me to a passage in Isaiah I've always loved. Isaiah 38 talks about King Hezekiah facing death. The king wasn't far from the age of 40 when God told him to get his house in order and prepare to die. But Hezekiah's first step was to pray.
When Hezekiah heard this, he turned his face to the wall and prayed to the Lord, “Remember, O Lord, how I have always been faithful to you and have served you single-mindedly, always doing what pleases you.” Then he broke down and wept bitterly. -Isaiah 38:2-3, NLT
God answers Hezekiah's prayer by granting him 15 more years of life. Why 15? I'm not sure. But I can tell you how overjoyed I'd be at that kind of news. Who wouldn't be? A new lease on life after the doctor has told you there's nothing they can do? There's reason to praise God in that, for sure.
But Hezekiah's life was full of faith beyond a desperate Hail Mary. It was a greater scope than a deathbed request. Hezekiah's prayers were deeper because he embraced humility and worshiped God. He was not perfect. But he was faithful.
My prayers are reckless and infrequent. They are soaked in "end of the rope" circumstance. I'm reminded of this truth whenever I'm angry or depressed or stoic because something has not worked out positively and my wife gently asks me "Have you prayed about it?" I give a half-shrug, because not only have I not prayed about it, I haven't even thought to pray about it.
So this week I've tried to be more intentional with this whole beautifully absurd idea of prayer. I've written requests in my notebook (God, help us find our daughter's purse, strengthen our marriage, give us wisdom in big decisions, etc.) But I realize my prayers fall short of confessing my sin to God and praising him for the incredible ways He cares for us.
I've started reading a biography of the great theologian and philosopher Dallas Willard. The youngest of four children, Willard was only 2 when his mother passed from an illness. As incredible a man of God as Willard was, I'm struck by the quiet faithfulness of his mother. By WIllard's account from what his siblings told him, his mother was sick when she discovered she was pregnant with him. She didn't want a fourth child. It would be a great inconvenience. But Maymie Williard spent time after Dallas's birth praying, asking God's forgiveness for not wanting another child. Her final words to her husband were "Albert, keep eternity before the eyes of the children."
If I gave an account for the times I've had similar selfish desires, I'd have material for 1,000 other Substack posts. God sees through our wickedness to who we really are. Yet for Maymie Willard, the simple desire not to have another child was something she grieved greatly.
When Hezekiah was given 15 more years of life, his reaction wasn't what mine would be. He didn't pump his fists and throw a party. He didn't run to Facebook to update his "friends" (okay yes there was no Facebook in the Old Testament). Hezekiah prayed. He thanked God.
I can remember a time in the summer before my 5th-grade year. Our family had recently moved from the middle of South Carolina to the foothills of North Carolina. My dad was taking over as the pastor of a church. My mom, an experienced teacher, needed a job. I can remember sitting in the living room of our house, my mom getting off the phone with the great news. She'd been given a job at a local high school. Right there, in the living room, Dad called us together to give a prayer of thanks for God's provision.
Oh, that I would be so close to God that my first instinct is to cry out to Him! Oh, that I'd be one to lead my family in prayer! Oh, that I'd trust fervently in God to care for me and my wife and our daughters!
Maybe you're like Hezekiah and facing death. Maybe you're like Hanif and facing desperation. Maybe you're like Maymie Willard and facing guilt. Maybe you're just looking for your daughter's missing purse. Whatever it is, pray to God. Trust Him. It's really okay. He's there and wants to hear from you.
I hope it turns up soon...
Did you find the purse?