The 8-year-old boy tumbled over two or three times into Mr. Law’s front yard; his bicycle was stuck in the hedge beside the road. It was one of my first true experiments with “prayer.” Cruising down the hill past the log cabin and into our little village of Grover’s Mill, NJ, I thought I’d see if God could keep the bike under control as I closed my eyes to pray. Thus, ending one of my first lessons in true prayer with a little message from above, “If you insist on holding onto the handlebars, open your eyes; I would really like a little help from your end.”
I’ve spent hours looking for lost stuff in my life; always aware of the fact that “Only God knows where I put it –and He won’t tell me.” Over our years in ministry Gloria (Mrs. Marple) and I have listened to all sorts of prayers: close your eyes and give a speech; close your eyes and scold your enemies/friends; close your eyes and brag. We’ve seen prayer used as a sort of demonstration where people are gathered into an emblematic public place –then, hope (or plan) that the press will cover the event.
For us, prayer was something very different. Prayer was our survival. We had two little girls and made $115 a month at our church in 1966. We made it our agreed upon practice that we would never tell people what we needed; nor, would we ever ask for a raise. Our kind of prayer was between God and us –we had no ulterior agenda. Prayer was our reassurance that God was in this venture with us. Private, secret prayer was our way of knowing that God is real, that He would care about our little family and take care of us.
That morning as I headed for the door, Gloria said, “Wait, we have to pray for money.” “OK, how much --a hundred dollars? I think we need a hundred dollars.” She replied, “No, we need two hundred dollars; the girls need shoes.” Back and forth we went. I said, “Don’t you think God will think us greedy?” She insisted, “I said, we need two hundred dollars.” At last, we sat on the sofa and prayed. In the middle of our prayer there was a heavy rap on the door. I opened the door to greet a man from Portland, Oregon, 75 miles up-river. In his hand was a check for two hundred dollars. He said, “I can’t stay, I’ve got to get right back to Portland; I’m already late for work. I think God wants you to have this.”
Today, in our churches we teach what we know –and what do we know? “Before they call I will answer, while they are yet speaking I will hear” (Isaiah 65:24). Don’t be afraid, God is way ahead of you.