Back in May, I signed up to be part of the prayer chain at our church. I figured it was one simple thing I could do for the church community that does so much for our family.
When I called the woman in charge of the chain, she explained to me how it works. “When requests come in, you’ll receive a call. Then, you pass the requests along to the next person on the list. You pray for that request for 3 days.” She noted that the prayer chain people occasionally change. “Sometimes people go off the chain for a while, if they need a break.” Need a break? From praying? I didn’t get that at all. This seemed like one of the easier things one could do for our church community. I mean, most of us pray every day anyway, right? ‘Going off’ just seemed kind of selfish.
Soon the requests started coming in. The caller on the chain “above” me would leave messages on my voicemail. (I quickly began to recognize her number and would let the call rollover so I’d have a recording of the request.) I’d write the requests down on little pieces of paper, post-its, on the back of junk mail, etc.—then I’d pass along the requests to the next person. The bits of paper/requests would then get tucked into my daily devotion book beside my bed and I’d begin to incorporate those people into my nightly prayers. It wasn’t long before I noted a few unexpected observations.
1) Yin & Yang. In those moments of my everyday life when I’m enjoying a wonderful dinner out with family, attending a show or riding along in the car with a friend laughing… inevitably, I see that (now) familiar number pop up on my cell phone. At that moment I am instantly grounded; reminded that somewhere very close by, someone is suffering deeply. It’s an instant reminder of fragile life is—and how we should make the most of every single minute.
2) One body. The prayer requests are NOT just for people in our church. Nor in our community. They are for people all over. They are for people of different faiths. They are for people with no faith.
3) I carry you in my heart. When a request comes in—it’s like it becomes your responsibility, too. You share the burden. (Now, I don’t want to dramatize this—or even suggest that I can begin to understand the pain and suffering that these people are dealing with: losing a child to cancer or a car accident; dealing with your own impending death.) Perhaps, it would be more accurate to say: that person becomes part of your heart. You care about them and ask God to embrace them and take care of them, especially during this challenge. No longer are you able to just buzz through your life being unaware of the suffering around you. It is part of you. And—although this might sound odd—it is an honor. In a way, you become sort of a “caregiver,” for that person.
The biggest thing that I've learned from this experience is that taking part in the prayer chain is a gift , and a responsibility. In fact, I took this responsibility so seriously that I couldn’t STOP praying for those people after 3 days. After 6 months, there were so many notes tucked in my daily devotion book that I could hardly close it. It began to make my heart heavy and sad when I thought about all those people carrying all those burdens. It began to make me NOT want to pray. I started to understand why people needed a break from being on the prayer chain after a period of time. I didn’t want to let all those people down. Their troubles didn’t go away after 3 days. Who would pray for them if we all stopped? But I was becoming immobilized with their burdens.
Today, I made a decision. I took all those little pieces of paper that I’d collected since May (except for those that came in during the last 3 days) and I put them in the fire pit. I lit them on fire and made an offering. I said a prayer for them all. I told God that I was going to try harder to trust His plan and let go. I trust that what he will make from these ashes will be worth all that suffering. Just look what he did for His son after 3 days.
19 September 2010
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