Prayers

^Prayers

So they brought the boy. But when the evil spirit saw Jesus, it threw the child into a violent convulsion, and he fell to the ground, writhing and foaming at the mouth. “How long has this been happening?” Jesus asked the boy’s father. He replied, “Since he was a little boy. The spirit often throws him into the fire or into water, trying to kill him. Have mercy on us and help us, if you can.” “What do you mean, ‘If I can’?” Jesus asked. “Anything is possible if a person believes.” The father instantly cried out, “I do believe, but help me overcome my unbelief!” (Mark 9:20-24)

Some people pray like a jet fighter – their words are smooth, sleek, high and mighty. Their prayers seem to reverberate in the clouds, sending sonic booms throughout the heavens. Others, like me, are more like a crop duster. We’re not flashy, we fly low, we cover the same ground over and over and, frankly, sometimes it’s a challenge just to crank up the engine. I think many of us are like that, and that most of our prayer lives could probably use a tune-up. For instance, some prayer lives lack consistency. They're either a desert or an oasis. Long, arid, dry spells interrupted by brief plunges into the waters of communion with God. We go for days or weeks without consistent prayer, but then something happens – we hear a sermon, read a book, experience a tragedy – something leads us to pray, so we dive in. We submerge ourselves in prayer and leave refreshed and renewed. But as the journey resumes, our prayers don't seem to travel so well.

Others need some sincerity. Their prayers are a little hollow, memorized and rigid. More liturgy than life. More form over substance. And though they’re daily, they’re dull. Still others lack, well...… honesty. We honestly wonder if prayer makes a difference because why on earth would God in heaven want to talk to me? I mean, if God knows everything, who am I to tell him anything? And if God’s in control, who am I to do anything?

If you, like me, struggle with your prayer life, I've got just the guy for you. You’ll like him. He's not a saint, or some knobby-kneed apostle. He’s not a prophet whose middle name is “Meditation,” or a too-holy-to-be-you reminder of how far you need to go in your prayer life. He's just the opposite, actually. He’s a fellow crop duster. He’s a parent with a sick son in desperate need of a miracle. And this guy’s prayer isn't much of a prayer, but the answer certainly is. And the result reminds us that the power is not in the prayer; it's in the one who hears it.

This dad prayed out of desperation. His son, his only son (Luke 9:38), was demon-possessed. Not only was he a deaf mute and an epileptic, he was also possessed by an evil spirit. And ever since the boy was young, the demon had thrown him in fires and water of any source. Imagine the pain of that father. Other dads watched their children grow and mature; he could only watch his child suffer. While others were teaching their sons an occupation, he was just trying to keep his son alive. What a challenge. And he couldn't leave his son alone for a minute because who knew when the next attack would come? The dad had to remain on call, on alert twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. He was desperate and tired, and his prayer reflected both:"If you can do anything for him, please have pity on us and help us."

Listen to that prayer. Does that sound courageous to you? Confident? Strong? Hardly. One word would have made a lot of difference. Instead of “if,” what if he'd said “since”? "Since you can do anything for him, please have pity on us and help us." But that's not what he said. He said “If.” The Greek is even more emphatic. The Greek tense implies doubt. It's as if the man was saying, “This one's probably above your pay grade, Jesus, but if you can . . . ." A classic crop-duster approach. More meek than mighty. More timid than towering. More like a crippled lamb coming to a shepherd, than a proud lion roaring in the jungle. And if his prayer sounds like yours, then don't be discouraged because that's where prayer starts. It begins as a yearning. An honest appeal. Ordinary people staring at their personal Mount Everest. No pretense. No boasting. No posturing. Just prayer. Feeble prayer, but prayer nevertheless.

Sometimes we’re tempted to wait to pray until we know how to pray. Even the disciples asked Jesus how to pray. But we’ve heard the prayers of the spiritually mature, and we know we don’t measure up. Not by a long-shot. We've read of the rigors of the religiously disciplined, and we’re absolutely convinced that we've got a long way to go. And since we'd rather not pray than pray poorly, we just don't pray. Or, we pray infrequently. So, we just wait until we learn how to pray. Good thing this man didn't make that same mistake. He wasn't much of a prayer, mind you, and his prayer wasn't much of a prayer at all. The guy even admits it: "I do believe," he quickly responded, just "help me to believe more." (Mark 9:24) That kind of prayer certainly isn't destined for a worship manual. No Psalm will ever be written about that one. His was a simple prayer. In a word? “Help.” No incantation. No chant. No flowery language. Fewer than ten words. But Jesus responded. And he didn’t respond because of the eloquence of the man, but to his pain, instead. Now mind you, Jesus had a bunch of reasons why he could have simply ignored this man's feeble request.

For one thing, Jesus was just returning from the mountain, the Mount of Transfiguration. While there his face had changed and his clothes had become as bright as a flash of lightning. (Luke 9:29) A roaring radiance had poured out from him. The burdens of earth were replaced with the splendors of heaven. Moses and Elijah came, and angels encouraged the gathered. He was transfigured. And while the journey up that mountain was exhilarating, the journey down was downright disheartening.

For instance, look at the chaos that greets him as he returns. The disciples and the religious leaders are arguing. A crowd of bystanders is gawking. A boy, who has suffered his entire life, is on public display. And a father who'd come for help is despondent and confused as to why no one can do anything about it. No wonder Jesus says, "You people have no faith. How long must I stay with you? How long must I put up with you?" (v. 19) Never has the difference between heaven and earth been so stark. Never has the arena of prayer been so poor. Because where’s the faith in this picture? The disciples have failed, the scribes are amused, the demon is victorious, and the father is desperate. You'd be hard-pressed to find a needle of belief in that haystack. And maybe that’s true for you, too. Maybe you’re hard-pressed to find the needle in your own haystack of a life. Your world seems a long way from heaven: a noisy house with screaming kids instead of singing angels; problems so overwhelming that you can't even begin to remember the last time when you didn't wake up to those particular demons. And yet out of the din of doubt comes your timid voice, "If you can do anything for me . . . ."

But does that kind of prayer really make a difference? Well, let Mark answer that question. “When Jesus saw that a crowd was quickly gathering, he ordered the evil spirit, saying, ‘You spirit that makes people unable to hear or speak, I command you to come out of this boy and never enter him again.‘ The evil spirit screamed and caused the boy to fall on the ground again. Then the spirit came out. The boy looked as if he was dead, and many people said, ‘He is dead!’ But Jesus took hold of the boy’s hand and helped him to stand up.” (Mark 9:25-27) This troubled the disciples, because as soon as they got away from the crowds they asked Jesus, “Why couldn't we force that evil spirit out?" And Jesus’ answer? "That kind of spirit can only be forced out by prayer." But what prayer? What’s Jesus talking about? Whose prayer made the difference?

Was it the prayer of the apostles? No, they didn't pray. Jesus had just confirmed that. Well, maybe it was the prayers of the religious know-it-alls. Maybe they went to the temple and interceded for the boy. No. The scribes didn't pray either. Who has time to pray when you’re busy interpreting and enforcing God’s law? Well, then, it must have been the crowd. Perhaps they held a prayer vigil for the child. Nope. The people didn't pray, either. They never bent a knee. They were too busy gawking at the freak show. Then what prayer could possibly have led Jesus to deliver the demon? Well, there’s only one prayer in the story, right? It's the honest prayer of a hurting man. And since God is moved by our hurt rather than our eloquence, he responded. That's what fathers do.

That's exactly what Jim Redmond did. His son Derek, a twenty-six-year-old Briton, was favored to win the 400 meter race in the 1992 Barcelona Olympics. With 120 meters to go in his semifinal heat, a fiery pain suddenly seared through Derek’s right leg. He crumpled to the track with a torn hamstring. As the medical attendants were approaching, Derek fought to his feet. He set out hopping and pushing away the coaches in a desperate attempt to finish the race. When he reached the final turn, a big man pushed through the crowd. He was wearing a t-shirt that read "Have you hugged your foot today?" and a hat that challenged anyone who cared to "Just Do It." The man was Jim Redmond, Derek’s father.

"You don't have to do this," he told his weeping son. "Yes, I do," Derek declared. "Well, then," Jim said, "we're going to finish this race together." And they did. Jim wrapped Derek's arm around his shoulder and helped him hobble to the finish line. Fighting off security men, and with his son’s head, at times, buried in his father's shoulder, they stayed in Derek’s lane to the very end. The crowd clapped, then stood, then cheered, and then wept as the father and son finished the race – together. So, what in the world made Jim do that? What made a dad leave the stands, race past security like a mad man, fend off coaches and then medical attendants just so that he could meet his son on the track in a race he had already lost? Was it the strength of his child? No, it was the pain of his child. His son was hurt and fighting just to finish the race. So the father came to help him finish. And God does the same.

Your prayers may be awkward. Your attempts may be feeble. Your words may be few. They may lack confidence, much less courage. But since the power of prayer is in the one who hears it and not in the one who says it, your prayers – my prayers – do make a difference.

Grace,

Randy

Prayers - Audio/Visual