Woah, we’re halfway there
Woah, livin’ on a prayer
Take my hand, we’ll make it I swear
Woah, livin’ on a prayer
Livin’ on a prayer
Apologies to my handsome friend Jon Bon Jovi………….
Prayer
In 1997 I was diagnosed with breast cancer. After 6 chemotherapy treatments and surgery my MD Anderson doctor recommended a stem cell transplant. The treatment hadn’t taken care of “everything” and the stem cell (basically high dose chemo and harvesting of stem cells, then when you’re near death, transplanting them back in) was my best option. The procedure required that I be in Houston Jan-March with a good portion of that time in the hospital. Thankfully there are better drugs now but in 1998 this was the best available.
Long story short, I was in the hospital when I had a visit from a local Houston pastor. I had signed the info card that I was a Baptist so I’m supposing this minister’s job was to visit Baptist patients (before we were isolated.). The pastor entered my room and we exchanged pleasantries, then we got down to the nitty gritty. He questioned me about being healed and did I pray for it. Uh….yes…. but I added that I wasn’t certain that it was going to happen. My mother had recently died and I had prayed my heart out for her….so I wasn’t hopeful.
At this point he told me my faith wasn’t strong enough and if I believed in prayer and was faithful enough, God would heal me.
Not what I needed to hear. Not at all. I suspect you’ve felt the same…..does prayer really make a difference?
At that point I started questioning prayer, pray-ers and faith. I’m a believer, I was raised to pray, but to hear him tell me my faith wasn’t enough…well, you get my point.
My mother was a prayer warrior… BIG TIME. When I went away to college, (unbeknownst to me) she prayed that I would NOT meet the perfect guy, get married and move away.
Thanks mother. I guess, ha.
Her voice to God’s ear. Although those college years were fabulous and provided lots of fun and lifelong friendships, none of my dating relationships were anywhere close to being serious, and meeting Jack after graduation was the answer to her prayer…. and 39 years later I’m still thankful for my mother, the prayer warrior.
I’m sure I wasn’t the only one included in her prayers…like I said, she was a warrior.
If you’re reading this and you know the Wilkerson family you remember that we lived across the street from the church and prayer played a vital role in all of our lives. You might remember….
- Wednesday night prayer meetings
- Community prayer services
- Prayer services when President Kennedy was assassinated
- The community prayer service when my brother Mike’s helicopter lost communication in the arctic and he was feared dead.
We prayed. We prayed a lot.
Daddy prayed too.
One of his favorite stories (decide for yourself if it was true) was that a man he was sitting next to during a particular sermon went sound asleep……..after which Daddy punched him and whispered that the preacher had called on him to give the benediction……and he jumped up and started praying in the middle of the service. Sounds hard to believe but if you knew Buster you realize how it could easily be true..ha
At our small Baptist church you had to be on your toes because the preacher might call on anyone at anytime to lead in prayer. Even if you were a VISITOR and Suzanne’s boyfriend.
King James Bible
But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.
Let’s just say I remember very clearly Jack looking for the closet.
But seriously….. I can remember exactly how my mother would begin each prayer ….. “Our most gracious Heavenly Father and our Almighty God”..…Of course she was never allowed to do the benediction because she was a WOMAN…. (fodder for another blog post)
Daddy was a MAN and a Deacon so he was called on almost every Sunday …. and at the end of his benediction were the words “Go with us now to our separate places of abode and may thy love abide with us now and forever”
I remember these exact words because I heard them so many times….What a blessing to have parents who prayed….
So…. all of that to say this…….
We all have our own way of praying. We’ve heard hundreds of sermons about how to pray. I’m even attending a Bible study about prayer… and still sometimes we don’t pray regularly or with specificity……haven’t we all, at one time or another, posed the same question about why our prayers don’t seem to be answered in the way we want… or if they even make a difference.
It’s probably a good time for a disclaimer. I am NOT a theologian and don’t play one on TV. I’m just a normal person who is a believer and who wants to pray in the best possible way I can. As I read the Kelly Mintor book with my Bible study ladies, one statement stands out.
Prayer should be more relational than transactional…. Good words, huh. Prayer isn’t a Christmas list that you mail to Santa. It’s not….. I ask this for this so I it.. For me it’s a conversation with my creator. My dear friend Jane said it best…”Sometimes it’s just falling on your face”….confessing your hurt, your pain and your human inability to understand why things are happening. Other times I find that I’m overwhelmed by the goodness of God and I spend my prayer time just thanking him for all he’s provided….. I’m not a big fan of acronyms but a former interim pastor listed this one. It’s simple to remember.
- P- start your prayer with praise. …. For beauty, for love, for family….for being alive
- R- repent….. think about your words your actions or the lack thereof…is it Christ-like?
- A- ask…. .. As the song says “Jesus on the mainline, tell him what you want”…well kinda
- Y- yield …..Yield to his will and to the fact we are human and live in a fallen world.
For me pray is often a confession that I do not understand this life. I’m aware that we’re human and we are born to die (even if we think we can live forever.) Illness, loss, grief…..are as sure as love, mercy and forgiveness.
Sometimes it’s simply a confession that I have huge questions ….like…. babies dying, young people suffering….or why tornadoes or hurricanes or mass shootings or Ukraine… and on and on. Sometimes I cry out that I DO NOT UNDERSTAND…..
But I still believe.
“I believe in the sun even when it’s not shining. I believe in love even when not feeling it. I believe in God even when he is silent…”
― Anonymous inscription left in the wall of a German internment camp
But here’s what I do believe
- I believe that if I tell you I’ll pray for you it’s not just a comment or a facebook post. I will.
- I believe that when healing doesn’t happen we need to pray to see what lessons are to be learned from the situation….what goodness can we find…….for me, that goodness has been overwhelming and I feel this love and goodness every day….from family, from friends, from my faith family and so many others.
- I believe words alone aren’t enough… I believe we have responsibilities as Believers to be the hands and feet of Christ. I used to have a poster that said “prayer changes people and people change things”…… I still believe it and I look for it…..
- I believe we need to pray and teach our children to pray. To open our hearts and have a conversation with the one true God. He knows our hearts but I believe he yearns for us to have a relationship with him…an honest, sometimes raw, fall on your face, relationship. He’s God. He can handle it.
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
Oh, we’ve got to hold on, ready or not
You live for the fight when it’s all that you’ve got
Woah, we’re halfway there
Woah, livin’ on a prayer
Take my hand, we’ll make it I swear
Woah, livin’ on a prayer
Hold on friends……. we’re all livin’ on a PRAYER… We hear you Jon Bon Jovi….
Let’s PRAY
Walking Home 
God is so good, thank you for sharing! My husband is George Underwood, he has just been diagnosed with non small cell lung cancer. His journey is just beginning. He really enjoyed your post, he has fond memories of your Mom, Dad and Mike. We will keep you in our prayers. God Bless!
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You were so fortunate to have parents who prayed! And took you to church! My dad must’ve gotten hurt early on in church, because he refused to attend. So Mom eventually gave up. I remember so well that church, the basement where Sunday school classes were held (I think?) and the narrow stairs with a ceiling close enough to bump your head…(is that a correct memory?) I remember being so impacted by your parents when the preacher talked about Christ on the cross, and both your parents cried. Tears leaked down their cheeks. I never understood that, and thought it was weird. Later, when I met Christ for myself, I understood.
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