9-30-19<\/p>\n
Do many people confess this \u2013 \u2018I Don\u2019t Know How To Pray!\u2019 \u2013 or would, if pressed? You would be surprised how many Christians, even, are uncomfortable when called upon to pray audibly, or front of others.<\/p>\n
My late wife Nancy\u2019s birthday was last week; and she died almost seven years ago. I have written how she suffered almost uncountable numbers of ailments and afflictions, including cancer, strokes, and heart and kidney transplants. She never stopped attending church all her life through, but her natural shyness plus an upbringing in church and home that did not encourage spontaneous and public praying, brought her seldom to pray in front of others. Even before our family, at mealtimes.<\/p>\n
But when she was listed for transplantation, she began a ministry on the Heart Failure floor of the hospital. She saw a need, particularly as \u2013 believe it or not \u2013 clergy seldom visited and prayed with patients there.<\/p>\n
A Catholic priest scurried through once a week, sharing the Host and the Sign of the Cross to Catholic patients on his list, and then moved on; scarcely chatting. Protestant clergy, sometimes from patients\u2019 home churches, occasionally made calls and had conversations more than prayers. In those times, almost 25 years ago, transplant recipients were wired to monitors and telemetry units, so the machinery and poles prevented them from even venturing to the chapel on the hospital\u2019s ground floor.<\/p>\n
It seemed curious and, frankly, cruel to Nancy that patients were receiving medical care but not spiritual care.<\/p>\n
She started a hospital ministry. She visited rooms. She had us bring Bibles that she could distribute. It became a family ministry, even as our children Heather, Ted, and Emily would pray, sometimes with children of patients. We began holding services on Sunday mornings in rooms, or the lounges, or atrium, depending on attendance.<\/p>\n
And attendance grew. Patients were wheeled in; nurses joined as they could; family members timed their visits to the services. We dealt with crises of faith. We saw miracles. We played recorded music, always surprised that rural men fell in love with Black spirituals; faithful Jewish couples lost themselves in the joy of Southern gospel songs; Hispanics sang the traditional hymns in Spanish as we sang in English.<\/p>\n
And before we knew it, people prayed with us\u2026 and prayed, themselves. Enthusiastically, and spontaneously. People opened up to request a specific prayer, as, they said, they never had done in their lives. Patients shared thanks for things that happened during the week, or for a breakthrough they experienced. Very often, patients or family members were bold enough to ask God questions, in front of all us. (You don\u2019t know how liberating, and Biblical, it is to answer \u201cI don\u2019t know! I don\u2019t know, either! Let\u2019s pray about it!\u201d).<\/p>\n
Sometimes widows or widowers, or children of patients who died after transplantation, or during procedures, or while waiting, came to thank us all. And to share peace with their \u201cnew\u201d families. Local TV stations, and the Philadelphia Inquirer<\/em>, did multiple stories on Nancy and this ministry. We continued it as a family for almost seven years after she received her heart and kidney, until we moved to San Diego.<\/p>\n Nancy received more than a heart and a kidney; she had a personality transplant. This woman who was so shy that she seldom audibly prayed over dinner\u2026 became a prayer warrior.<\/p>\n \u201cOut of the abundance of the heart, so the mouth speaketh.\u201d Once, a patient\u2019s wife said that she believed her husband was \u201clisted\u201d at that time and in that place, in order that he learn about Jesus from us. He accepted Christ \u2013 over which she had prayed for years \u2013 but I don\u2019t believe God sends sickness. The lesson, however, is that our job is to turn circumstances around on the devil.<\/p>\n There were many times patients prayed, in front of others as well as the Lord, for the first time in their lives. I still can almost hear the accelerating thump, thump, thump heartbeats on the monitors at those times. Spiritual emotion. Once, on New Years Eve, a sweet hulk of man from the Philly suburbs requested that we all gather in his room. \u201cI don\u2019t know how to pray!\u201d he confessed\u2026 but declared that he wanted to do so, for the first time in his life. He did, through tears \u2013 his and ours \u2013 and his \u201cAmen!\u201d was followed by the biggest smile you could imagine.<\/p>\n Is it possible, dear reader, that you don\u2019t know how to pray? Is it awkward? Either before others, or privately to God?<\/p>\n If so, that grieves God more than you can know. He wants to communicate with us; the Bible says we should share the burdens of our hearts. He knows them\u2026 but he wants to hear from you. Is there a guilt that impedes you? Confess it! He knows that<\/em> already too! Are you so joyful that you think prayer is not necessary? Shame on you! You have extra reason!<\/p>\n All of us live a little south of Heaven and a little north of Hell. We are in a common (even crowded) place from which to approach the Throne of God. You don\u2019t know how to pray, or what to pray?<\/p>\n If your slate is that empty, start by simply praising Him. Thank Him for Who He is, and what He has done. Can\u2019t think of anything? You will. It will start as a \u201csacrifice of praise\u201d and then start to roll. He will speak to your spirit. Are you getting through? The Bible says that the Holy Spirit will speak, even groan when we are troubled, to God on our behalf. Pray. I pray of you.<\/p>\n