About Prayer

As one prone to the human condition, I often enjoy listening to the music of talented lyricists. It is the songs of struggles and pain that usually catch my ear, as these are the tales of raw humanity. It’s comforting, I think, to know there are others in the ring with me—people who relate to betrayal, loss, anger, and futility… people who want to throw stones at their tormentor, but see the futility in simply breaking a mirror. I’d love to give a dozen examples, but music is a personal thing. It never delivers its true impact when reduced to words on a page.

There are, of course, some people who have no idea what I’m talking about. I certainly didn’t until I was past 30… but finally, life happened. If you get old enough, friends and parents die, divorces occur, friends betray, money corrupts, and long-held beliefs are crushed like chaff, and blown away in the wind. I cannot speak for anyone but myself, but there have been numerous times when it was all I could do to just breathe.

It is, however, possible to escape the shackles that bind us, which I’m happy say Heidi and I did recently in Bluffton. It was a Day of Healing Prayer, hosted by Sheila Sulak’s prayer team at Church of the Cross, and led by Jean Corbett’s prayer team from St. Michael’s.

Now, if you’re like me, and you read the words Day of Healing Prayer, the thing that jumps out at you is the word “day.” To me, day sounds a lot like the words that comprise the timeframe known as “all day,” and (other than Alpha) I’ve never done anything church-related that lasted all day. Sure, I’ve done church things that seemed to last all day, but never, you know, actually lasted all (the-live-long) day. My fear about participating in this all day event was exacerbated by the fact I’m not very skilled at prayer, and I had visions of being locked in a cell with a single candle. In the end, I agreed to go, because several people I love dearly were involved, and Heidi and I used to live in Bluffton.

The day of healing prayer began at 9am, and involved a talk explaining some of the specific aspects of God’s healing through prayer. At this particular conference, the topic was “generational healing,” which is a way to cut ourselves free from the sin of our parents, grandparents, and on back in the family tree. Here’s a very simple example: If your grandfather abused his wife, chances are good he passed this practice along to his children, who in turn were/are abusive to their spouses, and in turn pass it along to their children. This generational sin can, and often does, pass along for generations, until someone says, “Enough.” If you are that person, the concept of “generational healing” empowers you to ask for God’s forgiveness on behalf of your grandfather, and the children he passed it along to. Through forgiveness, one “cuts the cord” that snakes back through time, and is thus able to begin anew. As Heidi and I are not trained prayer ministers, we acted as “intercessors,” and sat in the back of the room praying over specific requests that guests had written down.

For most people, the need for this intercessory prayer is difficult to understand. To be honest, I don’t understand it either. But, you must remember that God didn’t really need Moses to lift his staff in order to part the Red Sea, did he? God told Moses what to do; Moses did his part; and God did His part. Same with intercessory prayer… for some reason, God likes us to do our part. So, Heidi and I prayed over the prayer requests all morning.

After lunch, we moved into the part of the day when guests stepped out in faith, and were asked to stand up and come to a Prayer Team for healing prayer. The teams were assembled, and I was attached to a team as a “catcher,” in case someone was overcome by the power of the Holy Spirit, and fainted. This is called “Resting in the Spirit,” and I always assumed it was just a stunt that Televangelists instructed their paid stooges to do. Boy, was I wrong on that one.

When the Teams assembled, something in the room changed. It was a palatable, real change—one that even a numbskull like me could feel. God’s Holy Spirit was in that room in a way I’d never experienced, and He was there to help His children move past the ghosts that haunted them.

I had, during that time, a revelation, which was simply this: The people in that room were God’s “beautiful people.” True, no one in that room looked like Pam Anderson or Brad Pitt, but the thing that kept coming to me is that God doesn’t even recognize physical beauty.

To God, physical beauty is as pointless and silly as a rain dance—It just doesn’t register on his list of things to even notice. Beauty to Him is the person in pain, who has come to ask for his healing grace. Beauty to Him is the members of the prayer teams, who gave up yet another Saturday to help do His work. And as I looked around the room, and as my fellow catchers and I lowered people to the ground who were overwhelmed by the power of the Spirit, I knew for a fact that I was in the room with God, and He was smiling.

After the healing prayer, we went into the church to end with communion. And as I prayed during that service, I had the clearest sense of my life that God was filling the church… every square inch of it. There was no room for personal demons, or doubt, or even the human condition. He was everywhere, and He wanted me to know it.

The Day of Healing Prayer ended at 3pm, and the people who attended went back to their lives. I do not know what the long-term results will be for each of the participants, because they more than likely had to return to the people and places that caused them such pain. Some, I’m sure, were completely healed. Others, perhaps, were simply given a boost up a mountain they must continue to climb. But I’ll bet that all of them left as I did, knowing one thing for certain: This life isn’t all there is, and an infinite award waits for those who believe.