Heaven, we have a problem

Today is the National Day of Prayer. I was a pastor for over a decade and today I lead a small church plant, and I only know today is the National Day of Prayer because I read about it in the paper. The article includes a study by the Pew Research Center (nice name) about the prayer habits of various faith groups. They asked people of all faiths if they prayed every day. The Jehovah’s Witnesses led the study with 89%. Then came Mormons at 82%, black evangelicals at 80%, white evangelicals at 78%, and Muslims at 71%. Catholics clocked in at 58%; Jews at 26%. According to the study, 5% of atheists pray every day. Do you?

First, let me say that I don’t put a lot of stock into surveys because along with praying every day, most people also lie every day—especially on surveys. The survey takers themselves suggested that 5% of the atheists may have just been “messing with the people doing the survey.” Jews have various requirements for what they consider prayer to be. They don’t recognize the short blessings they recite of meals and hand washings to be prayer. For many Jews, according to the article, prayer requires a minyan, or a gathering of ten adults. That could explain their low numbers.

Second, I feel the need to get real here. If three quarters of Americans are really praying every day—I’m not one of them. And if I—a Christian for a quarter century, pastor for thirteen years, current church planter and Christian publishing editor—struggle with being able to pray every day, I find it hard to believe that the rest of America is out there just praying away.

Now the hard part. Why don’t I pray every day? Good question. I guess the only answer is: after all these years, I still don’t really know how prayer works. I’m sorry. I don’t.

My friend John got sick a little over a year ago. Guy’s about my age. He had a liver transplant years before, but seemed to be through that. Then he just gets sick. We prayed for John to recover. John died. I’m okay with that. I’m not mad at God or anything. I trust that it was John’s time. But where did prayer fit into the whole thing? Did I really need to pray for John to recover? Was he going to die anyway? Was God waiting for me to pray before He’d do anything? Did John die because I didn’t pray hard enough? And, if healing John was the “right thing to do,” shouldn’t God heal John whether I pray or not? If it’s not the “right thing,” then John should die whether I pray or not. What is this little prayer game God is playing with us?

In Luke 18:1–7, it says,

Then He spoke a parable to them, that men always ought to pray and not lose heart, saying: “There was in a certain city a judge who did not fear God nor regard man. Now there was a widow in that city; and she came to him, saying, ‘Get justice for me from my adversary.’ And he would not for a while; but afterward he said within himself, ‘Though I do not fear God nor regard man, yet because this widow troubles me I will avenge her, lest by her continual coming she weary me.’” Then the Lord said, “Hear what the unjust judge said. And shall God not avenge His own elect who cry out day and night to Him, though He bears long with them?”

Really? Is that how it works? That’s kind of disappointing. Don’t you always hate it when those who complain the loudest get taken care of first? (Maybe you don’t if you’re a loud complainer.) Is that how God works? He waits to do something until we whine about it enough?

All in all, I do pray, but not nearly enough. Why not enough? Because even if I’m not sure what prayer is or how it works. When I read the words of Jesus, however, one thing is crystal clear: prayer matters. I don’t know how or why, but it just does. So, I can’t go on ignoring, avoiding, or putting off this thing called prayer.

So I’m going to pray today. I don’t really care that’s it’s the National Day of Prayer. But I’m going to pray anyway. We’ll see about tomorrow. If you pray, pray for me. If you want me to pray for you, let me know. I’m no expert, obviously, but I will. I promise.