Prayer Stories

March 6, 2012

Several years ago my father, still a relatively young man and extremely active, died of a heart attack. That night in bed, I wrestled with God. “Why did this happen? How can I put it all together in my mind and in my life? Am I going to recover from losing my father? If you really love me, how could you do this to me?”

Suddenly, in the middle of the night, everything changed. It was as if I had turned a corner and was now facing a new direction. God simply said, “I’m able. I’m enough for you. Right now you doubt this, but trust me.”

That experience may sound unreal, but its results were unmistakable. After that tear-filled, despairing night, I was never again tortured by doubt—either about God’s care for me or about my ability to handle life without God.

Bill Hybels, Too Busy Not To Pray

March 4, 2012

While working in Iraq, journalist and avowed atheist Spencer Case felt an impulse to pray on two separate occasions. One time is easily explainable, he claims—it was when his camp was under attack by enemy mortars. The other occasion was when he slept under the stars in a desolate part of western Iraq and was struck by the contrast between the human-made chaos in the country and the beauty and order in the cosmos. It prompted him to pray this prayer: “Dear God, I have come to the conclusion you probably don’t exist, but I’ve also come to the conclusion that any one view I hold may turn out to be mistaken, however unlikely the odds seem. So if you are there, if I am wrong, you know where to find me.”

Spencer Case, Humanist magazine

March 2, 2012

Thomas Kelly, who wrote a classic of devotional literature, A Testament of Devotion, had some kind of “experience” with the Lord following illness and disappointment. His biographer, Douglas Steere, described Kelly this way. “It was the same voice, the same pen, the same rich imagery that always crowded his writing, and on the whole a remarkably similar set of religious ideas. But now he seemed to be expounding less as one possessed of “knowledge about” and more as one who had had unmistakable “acquaintance with.”

Thomas Kelly, Testament of Devotion

February 29, 2012

The bricklayer laid a brick on the bed of cement.
Then, with a precise stroke of his trowel, spread another layer
And, without a by-your-leave, laid on another brick.
The foundations grew visibly,
The building rose, tall and strong, to shelter men.

I thought, Lord, of that poor brick buried in the darkness at the base of the big building.
No one sees it, but it accomplishes its task, and the other bricks need it.
Lord, what difference whether I am on the rooftop or in the foundations of your building, as long as I stand faithfully at the right place?

Michael Quoist, “The Brick,” in Prayers

February 27, 2012

I once visited a very holy lady who was confined to a bed. She showed me her family album of some two hundred photographs of missionaries and others she was concerned to hold before the throne of heaven. She explained how she worked her way through this entire album each week, flipping the pages and praying over the pictures. I was a teenager at the time, but even at that young age I knew that the place where I stood beside that bed was holy ground.

Richard Foster

February 25, 2012

Exodus 17:8-13

The Amalekites Defeated

8 The Amalekites came and attacked the Israelites at Rephidim. 9 Moses said to Joshua, “Choose some of our men and go out to fight the Amalekites. Tomorrow I will stand on top of the hill with the staff of God in my hands.”  10 So Joshua fought the Amalekites as Moses had ordered, and Moses, Aaron and Hur went to the top of the hill. 11 As long as Moses held up his hands, the Israelites were winning, but whenever he lowered his hands, the Amalekites were winning. 12 When Moses’ hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up—one on one side, one on the other—so that his hands remained steady till sunset. 13 So Joshua overcame the Amalekite army with the sword.

February 23, 2012

Daddy, do you want to pray?  Click here to read the article.

February 21, 2012

In the Ravensbruck Nazi concentration camp—the camp where an estimated 92,000 men, women, and children were murdered—a piece of wrapping paper was found near the body of a dead child. On the paper was written this prayer: “O Lord, remember not only the men and women of good will, but also those of ill will. But do not only remember the suffering they have inflicted on us; remember the fruits we bought, thanks to this suffering: our comradeship, our loyalty, our humility, the courage, the generosity, the greatness of heart which has grown out of all this. And when they come to judgment, let all the fruits that we have borne be their forgiveness.

Richard Foster

February 19, 2012

Matthew 26:36-46

Jesus Prays in Gethsemane

Then Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to his disciples, “Sit here, while I go over there and pray.” And taking with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death; remain here, and watch with me.” And going a little farther he fell on his face and prayed, saying, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.” And he came to the disciples and found them sleeping. And he said to Peter, “So, could you not watch with me one hour? Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Again, for the second time, he went away and prayed, “My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done.” And again he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were heavy. So, leaving them again, he went away and prayed for the third time, saying the same words again. Then he came to the disciples and said to them, “Sleep and take your rest later on. See, the hour is at hand, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise, let us be going; see, my betrayer is at hand.”

February 17, 2012

Acts 12:1-19

Peter’s Miraculous Escape From Prison

 1 It was about this time that King Herod arrested some who belonged to the church, intending to persecute them. 2 He had James, the brother of John, put to death with the sword. 3 When he saw that this met with approval among the Jews, he proceeded to seize Peter also. This happened during the Festival of Unleavened Bread. 4 After arresting him, he put him in prison, handing him over to be guarded by four squads of four soldiers each. Herod intended to bring him out for public trial after the Passover.
 5 So Peter was kept in prison, but the church was earnestly praying to God for him.

 6 The night before Herod was to bring him to trial, Peter was sleeping between two soldiers, bound with two chains, and sentries stood guard at the entrance. 7 Suddenly an angel of the Lord appeared and a light shone in the cell. He struck Peter on the side and woke him up. “Quick, get up!” he said, and the chains fell off Peter’s wrists.

 8 Then the angel said to him, “Put on your clothes and sandals.” And Peter did so. “Wrap your cloak around you and follow me,” the angel told him. 9 Peter followed him out of the prison, but he had no idea that what the angel was doing was really happening; he thought he was seeing a vision. 10 They passed the first and second guards and came to the iron gate leading to the city. It opened for them by itself, and they went through it. When they had walked the length of one street, suddenly the angel left him.

 11 Then Peter came to himself and said, “Now I know without a doubt that the Lord has sent his angel and rescued me from Herod’s clutches and from everything the Jewish people were hoping would happen.”

 12 When this had dawned on him, he went to the house of Mary the mother of John, also called Mark, where many people had gathered and were praying. 13 Peter knocked at the outer entrance, and a servant named Rhoda came to answer the door. 14 When she recognized Peter’s voice, she was so overjoyed she ran back without opening it and exclaimed, “Peter is at the door!”

 15 “You’re out of your mind,” they told her. When she kept insisting that it was so, they said, “It must be his angel.”

 16 But Peter kept on knocking, and when they opened the door and saw him, they were astonished. 17 Peter motioned with his hand for them to be quiet and described how the Lord had brought him out of prison. “Tell James and the other brothers and sisters about this,” he said, and then he left for another place.

 18 In the morning, there was no small commotion among the soldiers as to what had become of Peter. 19 After Herod had a thorough search made for him and did not find him, he cross-examined the guards and ordered that they be executed.

February 15, 2012

I learned to pray with my husband, late at night. We were going through a rough patch of marriage and didn't know where else to turn. I felt so inarticulate at first. I had never prayed aloud in group prayer meetings. They terrified me. But with my husband beside me I could simply let God know my needs. I thought of all the people in twelve-step groups like AA. They pray simple prayers, something like, "Keep me sober!" with no real concept of God. Yet God seems to answer those prayers.

Often I pray myself to sleep. I try to calm down, thinking to myself, I've gotta sleep, I've gotta sleep. Of course, nothing happens. Now when I can't sleep, I have someone to talk to. I don't have to manage life on my own. God can help keep my heart from jumping out of my throat.

I used to worry about falling asleep during prayer. Now as a parent, I understand. What parent wouldn't want her child to fall asleep in her arms?

Susan

February 13, 2012

Several days ago I woke up depressed, as I often do, and prayed, “Lord, I’m in an emotional pit. I need your help to climb out.” By eleven that morning, it dawned on me that God had answered that prayer, and I paused to thank him. Through prayer I reconnect to God throughout the day. My body chemistry actually changes as I consciously release my problems to God and seek his help. We truly live only one day at a time. It doesn’t really help to worry about the future, which we can’t control, or the past, which we can’t change. So I ask God to help me maximize what he wants emphasized in my day. Each day is a kind of treasure hunt, looking for God’s treasures, but it takes an intentional connection with God to awaken me, to make me aware.”

February 11, 2012

Ben Patterson tells of a time when he ruptured a disk and was prescribed six weeks bed rest. he writes, "I was helpless."

I was also terrified. What was this all going to mean? How was I going to take care of my family? What about the church? i was the only pastor it had, and I could do nothing for it. Out of sheer desperation I decided to pray for the church. I opened the church directory and prayed for each member of the congregation, daily. It took two nearly two hours, but since there was nothing else I could do for the church, I figured I might as well pray for it. It was not piety that made me do it, it was boredom and frustration. But over the weeks the prayer times grew sweet. One day near the end of my convalescence, I was praying and I told the Lord, "You know, it's been wonderful, these prolonged times we've spent together. It's too bad I don't have time to do this when I'm well."

God's answer came swift and blunt. He said to me, "Ben, you have just as much time when you're well as when you're sick. It's the same 24 hours in either case. The trouble with you is that when you're well, you think you are in charge. When you are sick, you think you're not."

Ben Patterson in Prayer by Philip Yancey

February 9, 2012

I’ve been working around street people, mostly homeless, for twenty-five years now. I help run a coffeehouse where they can drop in, and then on Sunday we hold a small urban church service upstairs. We never know what will happen there. some of the people smell bad, disturbed people pray too long, and visitors wander in and out of the service. The other week one person prayed, “Thank you, Lord, for Metamusil,” and another chimed in, “That’s a 10-4 God.”

John

February 7, 2012

We shouldn’t expect a relationship with God to remain on a constant plane all the time. Not long ago I celebrated my sixty-fifth wedding anniversary. Believe me, when you’ve been married that long, you don’t stay on a plane of ecstasy all the time. Romance starts as a blazing bonfire—you know, “You light up my life.” After a few decades it settles into something more like a heap of glowing coals. Sure, some of the heat dissipates, but coals are good, too: you can roast marshmallows, or warm your feet. A different level of companionship opens up.

For as long as I can remember I’ve spent at least a half-hour daily in prayer. There have been experiences when, as the old hymn puts it, “heaven came down and glory filled my soul.” Those are rare. Most of the time I persist because I value the relationship with God, just as I value my marriage relationship. I gratefully warm my feet by the fire.

Vernon

February 5, 2012

Jimmy was a simple laborer with little formal education. Each day, when returning home from work he would stop by the church and sit quietly at the back of the sanctuary. The minister noticed Jimmy and wondered what he did during this time. One day he asked him. Jimmy replied. "Not much. I just say, 'Jesus, it's Jimmy' and he says, 'Jimmy, it's Jesus.' And we are just happy to be together."

February 3, 2012

One day a friend of mine was walking through a shopping mall with his two-year-old son. The child was in a particularly cantankerous mood, fussing and fuming. The frustrated father tried everything to quiet his son, but nothing seemed to help. The child simply would not  obey. Then, under some special inspiration, the father scooped up his on and holding him close to his chest, began signing an impromptu love son. None of the words rhymed. He sang off key. And yet, as best he could, this father began sharing his heart. “I love you,” he sang. “I’m so glad you’re my boy. You make me happy. I like the way you laugh.” On they went from one store to the next. Quietly the father continued singing off key and making up words that did not rhyme. The child relaxed and became still, listening to the is strange and wonderful song. Finally, they finished shopping and went to the car. As the father opened the door and prepared to buckle his son into the car seat, the child lifted his head and said simply, “Sing it to me again, Daddy! Sing it to me again.!”

Prayer is a little like that. With simplicity of heart we allow ourselves to be gathered up into the arms of the Father and let him sing his love song over us.

Richard Foster

February 1, 2012

A little boy once wanted very much to have a little brother or sister to play with. So he prayed that God would send him a little brother. He continued for several weeks but saw no sign that his request was being granted. So he quit praying about it. Some months later his mother gave birth to twins. His comment was, “I’m sure glad I quit praying when I did.”

January 30, 2012

Our Prayers Matter

In 2 Kings 20, Hezekiah became ill and was at the point of death. The prophet Isaiah, son of Amoz, told him the Lord said to put his house in order because he was going to die. Hezekiah turned towards a wall and begged the Lord for his life and then wept. The Lord sent Isaiah back to him before he left the middle court. Isaiah told Hezekiah that the Lord had HEARD his prayer and seen his tears and would heal him. Fifteen years were added  to his life.

We do not live in a world where once the wheels start moving, the direction cannot be changed.  We can change God's plan for us. The story of Hezekiah proves that.

January 28, 2012

Forgive us our Debts

Recall how generously we have been forgiven by God. General Oglethorpe once said to John Wesley, “I never forgive and I never forget. To which Wesley replied, “Then sir, I hope you never sin.”

January 26, 2012

Can you identify?

John Donne, in one of the most famous sermons ever delivered in 1626 described his frustrations in prayer. "I throw myself down in my chamber, and I call in and invite God and his angels thither; and when they are there, I ignore God and his angels for the noise of a fly, for the rattling of a coach, for the whining of a door; I talk on. . .sometimes I find that I forgot what I was about, but when I began to forget it, I cannot tell. A memory of yesterday's pleasures, a fear of tomorrow's dangers, a straw under my knee, a noise in mine ear, a light in mine eye, an anything, a nothing, a fancy, a chimera in my brain, troubles me in my prayer."

January 24, 2012

Howard Hendricks tells of a time early in his teaching ministry when he worked up a humdinger of a series on prayer. At the end of this study he knew more about prayer than he had ever imagined he could know. He had worked it into a grand presentation and couldn't wait to preach it. As he walked toward the podium to give the first lesson, it dawned on him that he hadn't prayed about the lesson or the series.
January 22, 2012

January 22, 2012

To Whom Are We Praying?
Little Johnny was saying his bedtime prayers a week before his birthday. In a very loud voice he listed all the things he wanted. "Don't pray so loudly," his mother said. "The Lord is not deaf." "Maybe he isn't," admitted Johnny, "but Grandma is."

January 20, 2012

She was very young, probably not more than fifteen. Labor surpassed her comprehension. Like lightning before thunder, the wide-eyed glare of horror with which she met each contraction portended inevitable shrieks. She had received no prenatal care before labor. She expected “the Lord” to care for her. Then labor began. With each painful contraction, she rose to her knees and shouted at the ceiling, “Jesus! Jesus! Jesus! Help me, Jesus! Help me!” More than once, she became so vigorous in her exhortation of Jesus that she stood in the rolling bed to leave no doubt about her point. Medical students in surgical greens and nurses in once-white uniforms raced to her bed to pull her back down, warning her of the danger of this behavior.

The cycle of patient reaction and professional response went on for several hours. Finally, as labor neared an end, she rose to her knees one last time and shouted louder than ever before: “Jesus! Oh Jesus! You ain’t helping me a bit.”

-Tom Elkins

January 18, 2012

Leo Tolstoy tells the story of three hermits who lived on an island. Their prayer of intimacy and love was simple like they were simple: "We are three; you are three; have mercy on us. Amen." Miracles sometimes happened when they prayed in this way.

The bishop, however, hearing about the hermits, decided that they needed guidance in proper prayer, and so he went to their small island. After instructing the monks, the bishop set sail for the mainland, pleased to have enlightened the souls of such simple men.

Suddenly, off the stern of the ship he saw a huge ball of light skimming across the ocean. It got closer and closer until he could see that it was the three hermits running on top of the water. Once on board the ship they said to the bishop, "We are so sorry, but we have forgotten some of your teaching. Would you please instruct us again?"

The bishop shook his head and replied meekly, "Forget everything I have taught you and continue to pray in your old way."

-Richard Foster, Prayer, p. 80.

January 16, 2012

Chronic financial problems beset Lilian Baylis’s theatrical ventures. For these, as for other matters, she was unabashed about seeking diving aid. Members of her company were frequently embarrassed by her habit of going down on her knees in her office. It was said that at one particularly stressful moment she was overheard to pray, “O lord, send me a good tenor—cheap.”