Although the popular television show "GLEE" is a comedy, its latest episode delves into religion and poses some of the same questions I've struggled with myself. One of the main characters is the narcissistic cheerleading coach Sue Sylvester, who specializes in knocking the joy out of the kids in the high school glee club. In last week's episode, she aims to prevent the kids from singing spiritual songs, because they are, after all, in a public school. When a fellow teacher asks Sue why she is so anti-religion, Sue responds with a heartfelt testimony: when she was younger, she looked up to her older sister (who appears to be mentally-handicapped) and prayed every night that others would stop treating her so cruelly. When they never stopped, she considered her prayers unanswered and concluded that there is no God.
I've had similar feelings to that of Sue. Last March, a friend from my church was found hanging by a belt in his bedroom. He was in critical condition, but not pronounced dead at the site. I prayed constantly for Christian, who was only fifteen, for the following few days. Entire websites were dedicated to prayers for him, with hundreds of people posting their prayers. And yet, later that week Christian died.
Why did God allow him to die? Didn't He hear our prayers? Did He simply choose to ignore us? I can't help but wonder sometimes if prayer even matters at all. God already knows what is going to happen, so my petition will not change the future outcome. If God wanted to save Christian, He would have, whether I prayed or not.
Of course, there must be some reason that Jesus calls us to pray daily. And not just prayers of praise and thanksgiving, either, but of offering up our burdens to Him and asking for daily supplication. But I find myself so skeptical of prayer.
Evangelical Christianity is full of stories of answered prayers--just pick up the latest "Chicken Soup" book. Men will tell of needing money to pay their mortgage, of working long hours at multiple jobs, of selling furniture on EBay, of praying daily and nightly, and then still coming up $500 short. And then, as they are preparing to lose their home, they receive a check in the mail. And you'll never guess the amount--$5oo! It's a miracle! His prayers were answered!
My former Spanish teacher once told us of her "Stoplight prayers." When she was running late for a particularly important meeting, she would pray furiously as she drove down the street, "Dear Jesus, please help me to avoid red lights. Please give me all green lights. Please, Jesus, please." Miraculously, she would arrive at each light just as it was changing to green, and she would always make it to her appointment right on time.
I apologize if the preceding two paragraphs appear unnecessarily harsh; I am not trying to put down the powerful reality of prayer, even in events so mundane as beating a traffic light. It's just that I don't understand these prayers. If that man had lost his house, would he deny the power of God? Or would he believe that losing the house was part of God's plan, and that something even greater is in store for him? And if my teacher hit a red light and walked into her meeting five minutes late, is that because God doesn't care, or because she spent too long perfecting her mascara in the mirror?
God is infinitely more intelligent than I am, so please don't mistake me as criticizing His lack of judgment, but why would He answer "stoplight prayers" and not those of starving children in AIDS-stricken and civil-war-torn Rwanda? Isn't it foolish to allow these children to die, but make sure that a healthy, wealthy American who overslept doesn't arrive to a meeting a few minutes late?
I guess the nature of prayer has always puzzled me. I know that it matters, but I don't know why. I know that I'm called to humbly petition my wants and needs before Him, but I don't know how much it matters; He already knows my wants and needs. And, He already knows the future. Will my ten-second prayer change His mind so that He decides to save my friend's life?
As Christians, we credit God anytime someone recovers from cancer (and rightfully so). We believe that the afflicted person was healed because of the hundreds of people who were earnestly praying for her recovery. But what of those who are prayed for but still die? If we had maybe prayed just a little bit harder, or if maybe one or two more people had prayed, would the person have been healed?
And, are there certain prayers that are "worthy" of being asked? Surely it is reasonable to ask for physical healing, but what about asking to win a softball game? Sometimes when I'm up at bat with two outs and runners on second and third base, I send up a silent prayer. But then I can't help but wonder if the pitcher is also praying, not that I will succeed, but that I will fail. In this head-to-head battle of prayer warriors, who wins? Is it whoever prays harder, or perhaps who has a deeper relationship with God?
When the Red Sox won the World Series back in 2004, a DVD was released documenting the role of Christianity on the team. Interviews with outspoken Christians such as Doug Mirabelli, Jason Varitek, Tim Wakefield, Trot Nixon, Bill Mueller, and Curt Schilling spurred much talk from the local Evangelical community that the Red Sox won because they had God on their side. Now to me, this seems crazy, because Christians also played prominent roles on teams that the Red Sox beat en route to their title. Did God value Varitek's prayers more than those of the Yankees' Andy Pettite or the Cardinals' Albert Pujols? Or, perhaps, did the Red Sox simply have more talent and a few more balls bounce their way? I tend to believe that God will help us all to perform at our best level, and to promise us His peace, but that He ultimately views the final score as trivial.
The nature of prayer is so far beyond what I can grasp. I cannot understand why it matters whether I pray or not, yet I know that it does in fact matter. I don't know which prayers are "acceptable," and which are not. I don't know if my prayer will have any effect on an outcome, be it trivial or life-or-death. I know none of this. All I know is that it matters. Jesus told me to pray daily, so pray I will, even if I don't necessarily understand the consequences, if any, that these prayers may have.
(October 12, 2010)
I've had similar feelings to that of Sue. Last March, a friend from my church was found hanging by a belt in his bedroom. He was in critical condition, but not pronounced dead at the site. I prayed constantly for Christian, who was only fifteen, for the following few days. Entire websites were dedicated to prayers for him, with hundreds of people posting their prayers. And yet, later that week Christian died.
Why did God allow him to die? Didn't He hear our prayers? Did He simply choose to ignore us? I can't help but wonder sometimes if prayer even matters at all. God already knows what is going to happen, so my petition will not change the future outcome. If God wanted to save Christian, He would have, whether I prayed or not.
Of course, there must be some reason that Jesus calls us to pray daily. And not just prayers of praise and thanksgiving, either, but of offering up our burdens to Him and asking for daily supplication. But I find myself so skeptical of prayer.
Evangelical Christianity is full of stories of answered prayers--just pick up the latest "Chicken Soup" book. Men will tell of needing money to pay their mortgage, of working long hours at multiple jobs, of selling furniture on EBay, of praying daily and nightly, and then still coming up $500 short. And then, as they are preparing to lose their home, they receive a check in the mail. And you'll never guess the amount--$5oo! It's a miracle! His prayers were answered!
My former Spanish teacher once told us of her "Stoplight prayers." When she was running late for a particularly important meeting, she would pray furiously as she drove down the street, "Dear Jesus, please help me to avoid red lights. Please give me all green lights. Please, Jesus, please." Miraculously, she would arrive at each light just as it was changing to green, and she would always make it to her appointment right on time.
I apologize if the preceding two paragraphs appear unnecessarily harsh; I am not trying to put down the powerful reality of prayer, even in events so mundane as beating a traffic light. It's just that I don't understand these prayers. If that man had lost his house, would he deny the power of God? Or would he believe that losing the house was part of God's plan, and that something even greater is in store for him? And if my teacher hit a red light and walked into her meeting five minutes late, is that because God doesn't care, or because she spent too long perfecting her mascara in the mirror?
God is infinitely more intelligent than I am, so please don't mistake me as criticizing His lack of judgment, but why would He answer "stoplight prayers" and not those of starving children in AIDS-stricken and civil-war-torn Rwanda? Isn't it foolish to allow these children to die, but make sure that a healthy, wealthy American who overslept doesn't arrive to a meeting a few minutes late?
I guess the nature of prayer has always puzzled me. I know that it matters, but I don't know why. I know that I'm called to humbly petition my wants and needs before Him, but I don't know how much it matters; He already knows my wants and needs. And, He already knows the future. Will my ten-second prayer change His mind so that He decides to save my friend's life?
As Christians, we credit God anytime someone recovers from cancer (and rightfully so). We believe that the afflicted person was healed because of the hundreds of people who were earnestly praying for her recovery. But what of those who are prayed for but still die? If we had maybe prayed just a little bit harder, or if maybe one or two more people had prayed, would the person have been healed?
And, are there certain prayers that are "worthy" of being asked? Surely it is reasonable to ask for physical healing, but what about asking to win a softball game? Sometimes when I'm up at bat with two outs and runners on second and third base, I send up a silent prayer. But then I can't help but wonder if the pitcher is also praying, not that I will succeed, but that I will fail. In this head-to-head battle of prayer warriors, who wins? Is it whoever prays harder, or perhaps who has a deeper relationship with God?
When the Red Sox won the World Series back in 2004, a DVD was released documenting the role of Christianity on the team. Interviews with outspoken Christians such as Doug Mirabelli, Jason Varitek, Tim Wakefield, Trot Nixon, Bill Mueller, and Curt Schilling spurred much talk from the local Evangelical community that the Red Sox won because they had God on their side. Now to me, this seems crazy, because Christians also played prominent roles on teams that the Red Sox beat en route to their title. Did God value Varitek's prayers more than those of the Yankees' Andy Pettite or the Cardinals' Albert Pujols? Or, perhaps, did the Red Sox simply have more talent and a few more balls bounce their way? I tend to believe that God will help us all to perform at our best level, and to promise us His peace, but that He ultimately views the final score as trivial.
The nature of prayer is so far beyond what I can grasp. I cannot understand why it matters whether I pray or not, yet I know that it does in fact matter. I don't know which prayers are "acceptable," and which are not. I don't know if my prayer will have any effect on an outcome, be it trivial or life-or-death. I know none of this. All I know is that it matters. Jesus told me to pray daily, so pray I will, even if I don't necessarily understand the consequences, if any, that these prayers may have.
(October 12, 2010)
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