Category Prayer

I hope you read the post about prayer. If you didn’t, this post will make no sense.

The recap is this: I was wondering whose prayers, all or some, were answered. I know what the Bible teaches about prayer: that for our prayers to be effective, they must meet certain conditions. I have no idea whether these conditions were met by everyone who prayed for us. But guess what? I don’t need to.

My Final Conclusion About Prayer

That’s the conclusion I came to: I don’t need to know whose prayers were effective. I know what the Bible teaches about prayer, but I also know that God steps outside the box. Often. Jesus often, no, lots of times, surprised his followers, and especially the Pharisees and religious leaders. He dined with tax collectors. He hung around with disreputable people. His followers were a rag-tag group of people.

We asked for prayers from the churches attended by our friends. Despite being strangers to one another, the power of faith and the kindness of our friends led the members of those congregations to lift us up in their prayers. It was a humbling experience to witness the compassion and generosity of those who were willing to intercede on our behalf.

But I never once doubted the efficacy of their prayers; I simply knew in my heart that their heartfelt petitions would be heard. Their profound act of kindness and faith played an instrumental role in helping us navigate through the challenges we were facing.

It’s Up To God Whose Prayer He Listens To.

Isn’t the fact that both my husband and I felt the prayers surrounding us enough? The warmth and comfort of those prayers embraced us during our most challenging moments, serving as a source of solace and strength. It was as if a protective shield had enveloped us, offering reassurance that we were not alone in our struggles.

I’ve let my quandary go because I realized I was stepping into God’s territory, acknowledging the limits of my understanding, and placing my trust in a higher purpose. Besides, whose prayers should I be concerned about anyway?

Mine, of course. I don’t want to be like the Pharisee who thinks he had it all right. I want to be like the tax collector, always acknowledging my need for mercy.

The Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector (Luke 18: 1-14)

To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector.  I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’

 “But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’

“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

Starting Over In Prayer

I wrote in the post prior to this one, that I felt this experience had taken me from prayer graduate school back to kindergarten. But as I thought about it some more, I think I am still in kindergarten. Now, it’s time to move to the next grade.

For me, that means getting back to my book and dedicating long hours to refining every chapter. I go over it with a fine-tooth comb, ensuring I am true to what the Bible says about prayer while bringing hope to everyone wherever they are on their prayer journey. It isn’t up to me to judge but to encourage.

In the book’s introduction, I write that I had longed for some sort of epiphany I could include in the text, a profound and ethereal experience that would captivate readers. I write how that moment of revelation never materialized despite my fervent wishes. I thought it would make the book more credible.

As I delved deeper into the writing process, I realized that the absence of a grand epiphany did not diminish the significance of my journey itself. It allowed me to focus on the gradual accumulation of insights and experiences. The absence of a single dramatic moment of revelation no longer concerned me.

Nonetheless, as I reflect on the last two weeks, I realize that they have taught me more about the power of prayer than any “heavenly” experience ever could.

The Rest of the Story

But here’s the rest of the story I promised yesterday.

Within 24 hours of when we came home after surgery, we were back in the ER due to the mother-of-all nosebleeds, one he could have died from. Packing was inserted. It didn’t work. More packing was inserted, and it was very, very painful. I’ve never seen my husband wince in pain, but I did then.

So-o—o, we had an appointment five days later to have that packing removed. It was again painful. We left the ENT’s office and got only two blocks away, and I turned around and went back because his nose was began bleeding again. This time, the doctor, who had the technique of a bull-in-a-china-shop, had to insert larger packing.. We had no idea what my husband was in for.

It was worse than before.

I’ve never heard my husband scream in pain. It was the most horrible thing I have ever experienced. Watching him write in pain almost did me in. And, of course, it was much worse for him. He almost passed out a few times. The doctor seemed to think we should leave right away. We didn’t. We wouldn’t.

When my husband was finally able to sit up without feeling dizzy, then we left. I’m a mama bear when it comes to my husband, and I was so infuriated with the doctor that there was no way we were leaving until he was ready. (And, no, there is no way to avoid the pain. They only inject a numbing agent for all the good that does.)

It continued.

My husband had to keep this 6″ long packing in his nose for five more days. Witnessing his pain was horrible for me. Each passing moment seemed to stretch into eternity, and I felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness. But knowing that friends and family were offering their prayers and support was a source of great strength for both of us. It allowed me to remain strong and focused.

Five days later, he had the packing removed (again, painful) and a much smaller dissolvable one inserted (not nearly as bad). Oh, I should tell you we requested a different doctor. I wasn’t shy about giving my reasons. The nurse I talked to even agreed with me, making me think she was pretty brave to voice her opinion. But she did. Since Friday, we’ve had good days. He still has some packing in his nose, but it is a dissolvable kind.

Now, here are.

So now here we are—finally—on the road to recovery, knowing we have been blessed beyond all measure through the prayers of our faithful prayer warriors. I finally feel like I can breathe again. The support and love we received from friends and churches during this challenging time has been a guiding light in the darkest of days. It has restored our hope and given us the strength to carry on. As we move forward, I am filled with gratitude for the unwavering support that surrounds us and with hope for the future, knowing we are not alone on this journey.

Life can be tough, and I’ll bet some of you reading this have had more than your fair share. For that, I am truly sorry. You can contact me privately at my e-mail address anytime you need prayer. (foxrap@aol.com.)

I hope you have a great rest of the week and I’m hoping we do, too.

Blessing to each of you.