"Prayer List"

I’ve been half joking lately about my “prayer list.”  

Prayer is no joke.  I know this.  But this is a special list reserved for people in my life that are just plain irritating.  When I’m venting or telling some ridiculous story of their ridiculous antics, I say “I’m adding him/her to my prayer list.”  This is intended to justify my venting and make it all better.  My own little version of the better known Southwest Missouri colloquialism intended to magically erase guilt for gossiping, “bless her heart.” 

But the reality is, and I say this in all seriousness, they need Jesus (lower chin, purse lips, raise one eyebrow, insert southern accent.)  So I created a mental “prayer list” for those I’ve given nick names, as though they are traveling the yellow brick road in search of great wisdom when what they really need is to fill something inside.  There’s Dark Heart, Dark Heart Jr., Pickled and Cranky Pants.  In my not-so-humble opinion (ouch, that’s ugly) they have totally earned these titles. (point finger, point made.  I am soooo smart and sooo wise and sooo right about these people)  

And so in between my trivial annoyances with these dear people and stories about their meanness toward others and sour outlook on life, bless their hearts, I do pray for them.  Because I realize that that they really do need it.  And yesterday, I realized how much I need it too.

I read this:  “But to as many as did receive and welcome Him, He gave authority (power, privilege, right) to become the children of God, that is, to those who believe in (adhere to, trust in, rely on) His name—Who owe their birth neither to bloods nor to the will of the flesh (that of physical impulse) nor to the will of man (that of a natural father), but to God.  (They are born of God!)  John 1:12-13 AMP  

My “prayer list” got real serious real quick.  I began to pray for them by name instead of calling them by title. (It’s about to get Pentecostal up in here) How much energy am I willing to give to glorify the enemy’s attempts to destroy their lives when they are born of God and He knows their names?  How much breath am I willing to waste rehearsing the enemy’s work in their lives and spreading his un-newsworthy news?  How much do I really care about people?  How much do I really care about people meeting God in a way that brings light, life and hope? 

So as I prayed for them by name, I started welling up with tears and got a lump in my throat…and 

I.  Was.  Shocked.

I started crying.  I felt this sadness for those that don’t have a relationship with God, one that brings joy, hope, the experience of immense grace and mercy.  I felt sadness thinking about how much God must miss those He created who meander through life ignoring Him.  (To be clear, I’m not making assumptions about their faith – people on my “prayer list” have been very clear to me about hating Christians, not believing in God, thinking that hope is a silly notion etc. etc.)  

As I prayed, I was humbled by evidence that God in His grace is working in me and changing my heart, despite my arrogance.  And so very thankful that I have the privilege of Him knowing me and me knowing Him.   I was surprised because I didn’t expect to feel a genuine and deep love for them. To be honest I was praying out of obedience because it’s the right thing to do, not because my heart was particularly moved by these people.  The truth is they irritate me.  But the love was in there and as I opened my heart to the truth about their lives, it surfaced.  I was stifling it with my ideas, my own irritation, and those super clever nick names, which incidentally I am not allowed to use anymore.

The simple truth is that God created each one.  He knows their names.  He knows intimately their being, and He loves them there.  And so I pray they will be open to receiving that love and know true life.

Because prayer changes people…it’s changing me.