Day of Prayer

I have never had high aspirations for Day of Prayer. Truthfully, I rather begrudgingly attend, wondering if God likes forced prayers very much.

Today, I was awed and amazed by God's presence. I was thrown out of my comfort zone in our first corporate session — audibly praying my heart next to people who I love and trust, but not to the extent that I share my innermost prayers with them.

I traveled on to my 11 o'clock class which, for the first time all semester, I was unhappy about because it meant I had no break in my schedule. Sitting in a circle, my heart broke for the requests laid out before us. From William, an 8 year old boy with a cyst on his brain, to Jeff and Debbie who just gave birth to their stillborn son. Their needs still weigh heavily on my heart. I still fall before the Lord petitioning him to reveal himself in these hardships. It is these stories of so little hope that make me long for it the most. These sorrows that make me cling to the joy of the Lord. With a sense of longing for the Lord's return, I prayed, and still pray for healing and justice in this world.

With a stomach growling consistently, I left that classroom for another and hoped my professor simply would not attend. I hoped he would have us pray in small groups and let us go when we finished so I could get my fill of "delicious" cafeteria food. As this professor listed our prayer requests on the board, I resonated with each prayer offered to the heavens. "Selfish prayers" for guidance and direction as we graduate and seek to serve God with our vocations as well as our leisure. Prayers for zeal again, as my fellow classmates express exhaustion that leaves them unmotivated even to do the things they love. The story of Kaila, a girl I will likely never meet, who has turned from the Lord and whose brother longs to protect her. My heart overflowed with longing for things to be made right. For shalom. For the day in which we will be like Him, for His face to shine upon us.

Each session I attended gave me more of a longing for God. Each time I heard a request, my heart cried out for God's glory to be present in these moments. For a friend on the brother floor whose family is going through hard times and feels burdened by these circumstances. For a girl on my floor who is grieving the death of a good friend.

There are no words that satisfy these deep wounds of the body of Christ. There is no prayer I can offer that will magically make life easier, and no cosmic eraser which will wipe away one's troubles, only leaving a touch of pink dust. These requests, these burdens, can only be lifted by the blood of the Cross and the presence of the Holy Spirit.

This week's theme, ironically, is persevere in prayer. This commission by Paul in Romans 12:12 is the final of a trio that necessarily goes together: rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering and persevere in prayer.  It is because of the glorious hope we have in Christ that we are able to patiently suffer, offering up our prayers to God. We can only persevere through troubles if we cling to the hope we have and if we continually kneel before God.

How grateful I am that I go to a school that allows me to spend a day filled with the Spirit and praying for the needs of the body. May I diligently serve the Lord through my prayers.