Most of this blog entry appeared in my comment to a question posed on Facebook. As I began responding to the question, “What Motivates You to Pray?”, I learned that – as usual – I had more to say than expected and didn’t want to clutter the other person’s wall.
What Motivates Prayer
As a toddler, I prayed “the Lord my soul to keep.” The adults in my life told me in word and song thet yes, Jesus loves me…and some of them – particularly my Mom and Christine – prayed aloud with and for me every day as they rocked me at naptime or knelt with me at bedtime.
As a tween, I prayed because night prayers chased away nighttime stomach aches and – more importantly at the time – bad dreams and other fears that always bumped around in the dark.
As a teen, I prayed for snow days those nights when I didn‘t understand my algebra homework and couldn’t face a pop quiz tomorrow without being prepared. Come to think of it, we had a LOT of snow those years.
First three years college, I prayed for acceptance, then when that didn’t happen I prayed that Friday would come quickly so I could head home for the weekend. It all worked together for my good, anyway.
Senior year I begged for my mom’s life while she fought breast cancer. Those were tough times with me being two hours away while she went through her treatments. But each day when I got to mark one of those 38 treatments off of my planner, I found grace to ask that tomorrow’s treatment be as every bit as effective as I believed today’s had been. And they were.
In 1994 I begged for restoration in my grandmother’s life the evening she and her car were crushed; Christ restored her with eternal life – which I came to undertand was actually a better outcome for her than I could’ve ever imagined.
In 1996 I cried to Him desperately when I realized husband – and in turn kids – weren’t coming into my life…and asked how I could fight the feeling of failure that ensued. His answer was Gizzy, the four-legged baby boy He chose to squelch every last disappointment in that area of my life for the next 14 years.
With Gizzy so close to death last fall, I prayed “the Lord his soul to take”, his suffering to end. He did. And to be honest, lately there’ve been days I’ve almost been motivated to ask the Father to call me home as soon as His will permits. I’m sorry, but it seems I’m growing tired. Some days I’m not as useful as I’d like to be anymore.
In each of these occurrences, one of my growing motivations for prayer has
into an overwhelming passion to praise Him fervantly for His grace and power and existance; to thank Him for every blessing He’s given me.
And make no mistake, the favors, the blessings, the miracles have been myriad in number.
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