When It's Not Safe to Pray

Dear Old Friend,

After all of the years we’ve known each other, you know that I am a great believer in prayer.  I pray about everything, big and small.  In my opinion there is nothing too insignificant to bring to God; I believe he’s not too busy to care about even silly things like lost keys.  He’s a God of tiny details like the number of hairs on my head, so I never worry that I’m bothering him with my seemingly insignificant requests.

I also know there’s nothing too big for God to take on.  I’ve seen magnificent “yes” answers to prayers about huge things, where the seemingly impossible happens.  I have also witnessed “no” answers to prayers, where God in his infinite wisdom had other plans.  Prayer has then helped me to accept God’s sovereignty.   

I have also always counseled others to pray.  If I’m asked to impart wisdom about a particular situation, I may offer my thoughts and then recommend that they not rely on my judgment, but rather bring their questions to God in prayer and he will give them the true wisdom they need; but, often I simply decline to offer my opinion and send them straight to prayer.  I didn’t realize just how frequently I gave that answer until my daughter told me about a conversation she had with my son-in-law who was struggling with something.  She suggested that he call and talk to me.  He smiled and said, “I don’t have to call her because I already know what she will say.  She will tell me to pray.”

I’m only telling you this so that you can put into context how odd it is for me to say that there are things about which I have learned it is not safe for me to pray.  I have so much emotional investment in these specific issues, that when I pray I become utterly desperate, to the point of demanding that God give me the “yes” answer I believe I must have.  I rail and wail; I beg and plead; I work myself into a frenzy and feel myself drawing a line in the sand, belligerently declaring in my heart, if not in words, that if God doesn’t give me what I am asking for, I am done; and when I finish praying I feel terribly alone.

I am sad to admit that scene has played itself out many times; but, thankfully, what God has taught me is that, even when I have followed that path, and I feel like the Incredible Hulk who has just alienated God with my rage, he does not leave me alone.  He understands what prompted my desperation and loves me, and assures me that he is big enough to handle my fear and anger.  But he has also taught me that I am much better off when I simply do not go down that road.

The alternative, for me, is to stop when the panic starts to rise, and tell God, “You know how I feel”, and leave it at that.  If that doesn’t stop the desperation, I have some precious friends, like you, to whom I know I can turn, and ask to pray for me.  I don’t just mean “pray for me”, in the way we typically mean, but, to pray instead of me; to pray in my place; to pray because it is not safe for me to pray. 

When I do that, I always feel the prayers wash over me and I have an immediate sense of peace.  The pure grace of God extended to me through those who love me.  I am writing this to you because I find myself once again in need of those prayers.  I cannot tell you how much it means to know that you will pray in my stead.

Thank you, dear friend.

Love Always,

Bonnie