We never know what a Sunday in White River will bring forth, and yesterday was no exception.
First there were pelicans.
They were flapping luxuriously in the sky over White River, and we couldn't help wondering where they were going. Jonathan and I went looking for them after service at the different ponds and lakes near White River, but we didn't find them.
Instead, indoors, Jonathan led service, led singing, and preached--all three. And the Sunday School children did not show up--but we ended up finding them accidentally in the afternoon.
Here is what happened.
I had prepared a story, flannelgraph figures, craft, and game for the children with the theme of Jesus calling Peter to follow him after Peter and other disciples had gone fishing. I had a fish matching game--and so we had fish but no children for Sunday School.
That afternoon, I remembered that I've been trying to pray for an extra hour on Sunday--for whatever is laid on my heart that week, but especially for unsaved people in our communities and for our own children's needs and others that are heavy on my heart.
You try it. See if it is easy.
It is not, even if you are super spiritual, which I am not.
I go to my room and I start to pray--out of sheer choice and duty and not because I just love to do this thing.
But within minutes, obedience is softening my unfeeling heart, and my heart is feeling things that I didn't know I would feel. I am shedding tears and God is working on me even if my prayers aren't doing great things like Elijah's prayers.
I sit outdoors in the sunshine, praying for a while, and then peeking at my watch, hoping that half an hour has gone by.
My goodness, how slow time crawls when you are trying to fill up an hour praying!
You try it. See if you peek at your watch or not. Then tell me.
Of course, I am also thinking to myself that it is not about praying exactly 60 minutes, but giving that hour to God in obedient prayer, because prayer is what it takes to see God work.
Prayer is what bridges the gap between our helplessness and powerlessness and need--and God--like this bridge Tim built at Ranch Haven the day before. Do I want to see God work and save souls and help people in our community? Am I willing to dedicate time to pray for this?
What about the man yesterday who helped Jonathan and Danny change out the transfer case in Jonathan's "new" truck (which keeps breaking down)? Am I willing to pray for his salvation beyond a trite little one-sentence prayer?
But to be terribly honest, it's hard to just keep praying beyond that one-or-two-sentence prayer. So yesterday, for the second half hour, I got creative--and that ended up purely delightful!!!
A few years ago in Colorado, friends of ours invited us with them and another couple for a prayer drive in rural Yoder area. The friends of our friends had mapped the area and were challenging themselves and others to pray down every road in the country. We spent an hour and a half with them on Colorado streets and roads, and I absolutely LOVED it. As we felt led, one or the other of us would pray out loud for each home we passed, or for the school or businesses we passed. Such a creative and bright way to pray for our communities!
So this was not my original idea yesterday--it came from that time in Colorado. Jonathan was willing to go with me, and we grabbed water and a key and sallied forth--driving along Little White River Road and then deciding to putter through Swift Bear Community and Lower Swift Bear Community. We asked God to accept our drive as a prayer, and we also prayed out loud for the people at every house we passed--some whom we knew, and others whom we didn't know.
Down at Lower Swift Bear is where we accidentally ran across the children I missed in Sunday School. As we drove slowly along, we passed three of those children out near the street in the shade of some trees. Turning around at the cul-de-sac at the end of the street, we came back, stopped, and I got out. The boy was the first to run across the street to surprise me with an excited hug, and then another girl, and I went to give a third girl a hug. I told them we missed them at church today, and they were surprised it was Sunday.
"I thought it was Saturday," the boy said. I told them what we were doing--driving the streets praying for people. I told them to come to church next Sunday!
As I got back into the car to go on with our prayer drive, I sat there in unbelief that in just a few times of having Sunday School with these children, they were running across the street to hug their teacher! I could not have felt more delighted!
We went on our way, at Jonathan's suggestion, down 1st Street and Investment Avenue where very spiritually needy native acquaintances lived, and another street where we knew a lady had lost her man a couple years ago and so badly needs the Lord. We passed the care center and prayed for residents there--and it reminded me I need to go visit there this week now that I'm feeling better after chemo. We passed the cemetery and I prayed for the next person who would be buried there, that they would get right with God in time. As we passed homes, we prayed for unsaved neighbors, and as we passed the Nazarene Church, we prayed for the ministry and outreach of the church and the pastor.
Isaiah the prophet instructs God's people to consider the sabbath day a delight, and to use it for His pleasure and not our own. I've always, literally always, struggled over that passage. Until yesterday, I'm not sure I totally understood how delightful it becomes to choose to delight in the Lord instead of in our own pleasure. I am still learning, baby steps, I'm afraid. It does help to get creative if one wants to delight! Praying by our bed is not the only way to pray.
How about a prayer drive, down different streets and roads, next Sunday, too?
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