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One Sunday after morning worship, a man in our congregation handed me a prayer letter from his daughter and her family. They were missionaries in Africa, and he wanted as many people as possible to pray for them. "Sure, I’ll lift them up," I said politely, sticking the letter in my Bible, where it remained, pressed between the Old Testament prophets and an old bulletin.
In truth, I only agreed to pray because it seemed like the spiritual thing to do. What else do you say at a time like that: "No, I really don’t want to pray for your missionary family – I’m too into myself right now"? I pacified my guilt over not praying by reminding myself that their Sunday school class was already praying for them. What difference would one more prayer make? A month later I had a dream. I was at some sort of meeting. We were gathered around a table where I was supposed to read a letter from the missionary I had promised to pray for-and to lead the group in prayer for that family. As I began to read the letter out loud, I heard a choir singing a beautiful version of the hymn, "Holy, Holy, Holy." I felt an overwhelming sense of being in the presence of Almighty God. I ducked under the table, my face flushed and hands trembling: I had not done what I said I would do! No amount of public praying could make up for the fact that I had broken my promise to pray for these people in private. I awoke from the dream gasping and shaking. I immediately got up and went to my Bible, pulled out the letter, and poured over every word. How could I have ignored their pleas for help, their cries for prayer cover? Poisonous snakes. Refugees. Violence. Malaria. I prayed passionately over every single need. By the time I was finished, well over an hour had passed, and I quietly went back to bed, spiritually spent but knowing that I had been faithful to what God had asked. The next week, I confessed to the man from church that I had not been praying for his family, but that I had awakened with a start several nights before and spent a considerable amount of time interceding for them. He patiently asked me when this occurred, and I told him the date and approximate time. The next time I saw him, he said, "I have some interesting news. I told our daughter about your prayer time, and she determined that you were praying for her at a time when she was particularly discouraged. She believes that your prayer cover strengthened her and protected her through the day. She also asked me to tell you ‘Please don’t stop.’" His words were like throwing gasoline on the fire in my heart. The fire still burns today. When this woman’s father asked me to pray, it was because she truly needed prayer. How many other people have asked me to follow through on my promise to do so? Now when people ask me to pray for them, I often say, "Can I pray for you right now?" But if I can’t pray right then, I don’t agree to pray for someone unless I can commit to follow through. I have found that the best way to be faithful to the prayer pledges I make is to keep a prayer notebook. As I receive prayer requests from others that I believe God wants me to follow through on, I divide them into categories and distribute them over different days. If I were a stockbroker, my clients would expect me to be diligent in my ledgers and spreadsheets. How much more should I be able to account for the eternal things that people entrust to me? I’ve learned that people who ask for prayer often really need that prayer. I don’t want to let them down by responding with a courteous "I’ll be praying for ya" without backing it up. It means a lot for people to know that we have kept our commitments to stand in the gap for them. And being faithful to intercede for others to allow us to hope that one day we will hear our Master say "Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful in a few things; I will put you in charge of many things" (Mt. 25:21).
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