There are two people that whenever I hear them pray I feel comforted, almost like I'm being hugged by God at that moment. They pray with such faith and power that I feel weak and ashamed and spoiled.
The first person was my wife's Grandfather. He is now in glory, knowing his God far better than we do here, but even when he was on this planet he still seemed to know God better than most. His prayed with faith and conviction, a belief that God has promised to care for us and therefore we had nothing to fear. When he would pray for me when I was unemployed and looking for work, he would remind God of His promises and I always felt comforted.
He lived through the Great Depression and he told me a story once of going to a factory to try and get a job. He told the interviewer that he was willing to do any job. The interviewer turned around and pulled a stack of applications, many inches thick out of a file and said, "All these guys have told me the same thing too."
There was just no work to be found, yet God kept he and his family fed and housed. When his son, my wife's father, was very young he contracted Scarlet Fever and was beyond the help of anyone on this earth, yet, miraculously he was healed.
I never have had to worry about housing or food, science has allowed us to successfully treat just about any illness, and when I pray, I feel weak. I do not overtly think that God is a second option to me, but when I step back and look at my weak, pathetic prayers I wonder if the reason for that is that I have never gone through an extreme hardship.
I pray for my wife's back to be healed, but, when I am brutally honest with myself, I still keep thinking that it will come about through some doctor, and not a wondrous act of God. How weak.
The other person is someone I work with. He is from Angola and lived through a Civil War there. Growing up he lived in a mud house on a hill. When it rained he would have to go outside with his family since there were several occassions when a house up on the hill would collapse causing a mudslide and killing anyone who would get stuck in their house.
He also told me about a beautiful scenic overlook that looked out over the city. I saw pictures, a great view. During their Civil War, soldiers would throw dissidents over the edge of this overlook and you can see bones there to this day.
When he prays, he almost always starts off telling our Father how much we praise and love Him. I feel strengthened when I hear him pray.
There was a story I heard about some missionaries to a "Third-World Country" in Africa in dire straits. Persecution and famine were normal for the people who live there. One of the newer missionaries asked a native how they kept their faith in the face of these horrible times.
The native was shocked and responed that they didn't know how Christians in America kept their faith in the face of all the temptations and wealth.
There are people I know that think that there will be a time in the next few decades when Christians are persecuted in America, just like they were in Ancient Rome. I always used to think that this was a bad thing, but I wonder if that isn't the best thing for us. A wake-up call. We would once again be forced to put ALL our faith in a Holy, Merciful, and Righteous God. We would have to rely on Him alone.
And just maybe my prayers wouldn't seem so weak anymore.
