Take care, God.

I’ve heard a lot of beautiful, eloquent, and moving prayers in my life. I know people who make you think God is physically sitting in the chair next to you when they pray. Those are the fluent prayer people who know the language well (see yesterday’s post).

But raw, authentic prayers—the kind that are heard when someone is first learning the language—are my favorite. I’ve heard two great prayers of this sort in my life.

The first was at our church in Richmond, Virginia. We were in a committee meeting and decided to close in prayer, realizing after we’d started that one of the guys was probably going to be very uncomfortable praying, since we knew he never prayed out loud. We went around the circle and to our surprise he prayed when it was his turn. I don’t remember what he said, but I’ll never forget the ending. He closed with, “OK, God. Take care.” 

It was beautiful. It was the same thing this guy always said at the end of all his conversations, and it was a beautiful picture of a man being authentic in conversation with God.

The second greatest prayer I’ve heard in my life was when my Dad was in the hospital for a brain/pituitary tumor. We had a private waiting room, and one morning my mom and I were alone in the room. Exhausted and emotionally weary, we were just waiting on news. At about 6:45am, one of my Dad’s best friends walked in with some biscuits in a brown bag. 

We were going to eat together, but then Mom said, “I feel like I just need to pray.” So, we did. Again, I’d never heard this man (like the first above) pray out loud. He’s one of the funniest men I’ve ever known, but I’d just never heard him pray.

So, Mom and I prayed, and then there was a pause. 

With a cracking voice, my dad’s friend said, “Dear God. Please help my friend, Steady.” 

I can’t even type right now without tears as I recall the authenticity of that moment.

Lord, thank you for these two dear men in my life that taught me so much about being authentic, raw and real in conversations with you. Keep me from ever becoming so eloquent and fluent that I forget that the purpose of prayer is a deepened relationship with you and not a test of my language proficiency. Amen.