The story is told about this little boy who wanted to go to a picnic. However, he had not obeyed his parents, so his mother told him that he couldn't go. After some time, though, the mother relented and said, "I'm going to go ahead and let you go to the picnic this time." The little boy looked at her and sighed and said, "It's too late. I've already prayed for rain."
Oh, to have the faith of a child, especially the faith of a child in the power of God to work through prayer. As a pastor and as a Christian, I dutifully pray, with the emphasis, I'm afraid, on "dutifully." It's expected. When someone finds out you're a pastor and you visit them in the hospital, you are expected to pray. When you visit someone's home, you are expected to pray. When you are in the middle of a worship service, you are expected to pray. And, so you pray.
But, a lot of the times, it seems that even the prayers of a pastor refuse to go past the ceiling. When you have prayed for years with no visible results, you tend to get somewhat cynical in your heart. You pray because that is what you are supposed to do. It's what God's word tells you to do. It is what is expected. But, after time, there is a tendency to pray with double-mindedness, to pray with half a heart. You pray, but you don't really mean it. You don't really expect an answer. You pray, because you think, "Who knows, God might work," but you're not surprised when He doesn't. Oh, the lament of the powerless prayer.
But, then, there are those times when the prayers seem to lift, when your heart is filled with the Spirit and your prayers are carried up into the heavens and you feel that something different is going to happen. Who knows what makes the difference -- God's Spirit leading you to pray differently? God speaking to your heart and giving you the words to pray? A moment of clarity of faith and belief in the midst of a cynical life? Regardless, you pray and you know that something is different. You know that something will happen. You know that God heard and is moving in response to your pleas.
Something like that happened to me this week. A family related to our church had a major crisis. "T" has cystic fibrosis, and over the last few weeks, pneumonia set in and compounded the problem and led to an emergency hospitalization in Intensive Care. He was given days to live. The doctors had no hope. Most of the family had no hope. And, honestly, after I visited, I had no hope. But his wife did. And her church did. And, so they prayed.
I joined in their prayers half-heartedly that day. But, later, in my quiet time, my spirit soared into the heavens and I felt God's presence in a real and tangible way. And I prayed again, with my prayers rising to the very throne of God, living on true faith, joining those of "T"'s wife and his church. I felt God had heard. I felt something was going to happen, but I didn't know what. Perhaps God would take "T" and give him the ultimate healing by carrying him to heaven. Perhaps, maybe, by some miracle, God would make it so that "T" would get better physically.
Church and work obligations prevented me from going back to the hospital for several days. I knew that the doctors had decided Wednesday was the day. The family was going to have to make the decision whether to remove the ventilator and to take "T" off of life support. I knew that the situation was dire. And so, with trepidation, I approached the desk to find out if "T" was still in ICU. Honestly, I was expecting to be told that he had passed away and was not still there.
And, just as I expected, he was not in ICU. But, he had not passed away. He had, in a miracle of all miracles, been healed, not of cystic fibrosis but of the pneumonia and the immediate life-threatening conditions. He had been moved out of ICU and put into a private room and was expected to leave the hospital and return to normal life in a few days. I joined his family and his church family in his room, surrounding his bed as they prayed and thanked God for His healing. One man there summed it up for me in his prayer, "We will never be the same again."
"We will never be the same again." As I left the hospital, rejoicing at the healing of "T" and at the goodness of God, those words ran through my mind. "We" -- "I" will never be the same again. My faith was restored. My hope had returned. I remembered that God was bigger than our storms, that He was bigger than our doubts and our fears, that He was bigger than all the giants that threaten us. And, as I was rejoicing in my heart and thanking God for his healing, not only of "T" but of me as well, a sudden downpour surrounded my car. In the midst of sunny day, it rained. And, as I turned towards home, there in front of me was the most beautiful sight -- a rainbow in all its glory. A sign of God's promise. A sign of God's faithfulness. A sign of God's love and mercy and grace.
You know, some say that at the end of the rainbow there is a treasure of gold. I don't know about that. But I do know that the rainbow I saw rested on me. The end literally rested on the hood of my car. And, I knew, in that moment, that there was indeed treasure at the end of the rainbow. Because God was there, and He was good, and He had used "T" and the faithfulness of his family's prayers to change the heart of a sometimes cynical preacher.
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