answered prayer

Sometimes I forget that God hears. I pray, and I do consciously believe God hears, but I don't live my days in expectation of seeing His work. I pray every day (okay, I have missed a day or two) for the safety of my family. I pray for Mom and Dad, for JP and Linsay, that God would protect them from disaster or disease, from accident or harm. Things scare me. JP scuba dives. Submerging oneself in water does not sound like a good idea to me. Dad sometimes gets on a ladder and fixes things. Termites eat wood. Ladders are made out of wood. Anything can happen. Mom plants flowers. Flowers attract bees and hostile hummingbirds. It could get ugly. So I pray. And sometimes God shows up in visible ways.

A few weeks ago my dad, after a morning of documenting continuing education for his teaching certificate, as well engaging in other enjoyable activies, decided that he would sit down on our back deck and enjoy a Subway sandwich. It was a beautiful day, not even a breeze, temperature in the 70's. School was out for the summer, the pace of the day was laid back, and for once my parents had a day of peace. Dad could enjoy his sandwich with no worry of stress-induced indigestion. Well, that was until the sky started falling. Without warning, the utitility pole in our backyard snapped at its base, falling across the doghouse, nearly crashing into our neighbor's garage. The power line from the pole to the house went slack, falling across the deck (see photo below), not more than five feet from where Dad was sitting with a mouth full of turkey club on Asiago toasted bread. The strength of the main power lines managed to keep the pole from crashing through the garage, but as they swayed with the shift of weight, they bounced off of each other, arking and sparking all across the neighborhood. Less than five feet away from the live power line lying across the deck on which he was sitting, Dad decided not to move. He also decided he didn't feel like finishing his sandwich. Mom, unable to actually get to him, asked if she should call 911. Dad decided that was a good idea.

I am just thankful that Dad wasn't hurt or killed. And I am thankful that Mom didn't run out there and get hurt or killed as well. This was a near miss. A freak accident that could have turned tragic. I wonder how many freak accidents and "normal" accidents we avoid each day. I wonder what impact my prayers had on that near miss.

I doubt we realize the impact of many, if not most of our prayers. When I was in college, I and a group of others prayed twice a week for Eastern's campus, for the students and faculty, for the Christian Campus House, for those who there, for those who had not yet arrived. We who prayed, and I know there were many who prayed for the campus, even if they did not sit in that particular circle, will live our lives never knowing exactly why God put it on our hearts to pray that semester, that year. And we will never know what lives are different now because God called us to prayer and we obeyed. Maybe a girl was more careful about who had touched her drink. Maybe an international student was befriended by an American student who really wanted to be his friend. Maybe someone decided that she would give Intervarsity a try. Perhaps a challenging question that a professor asked motivated one student to think about life and meaning, existence and God. And then maybe that student had a conversation with a Christian on his floor, and then, months later, he started reading the Bible, asked quesitons, and surrendered his life to Christ. Maybe blessings of wisdom and strength were given to the student leaders at Campus House. Maybe. We prayed for all of those things. I am confident that they were in some way answered. And I am glad that students who preceded my time at Eastern prayed for me. I, an incoming freshman, scared, looking for belonging, looking for meaning, looking for God. I ended up at Campus House even though I had never heard of it before. And I stayed. So, anyone who was at Eastern the years before me, thank you for praying for me before you ever knew I existed. And those of you who are at Eastern now, please keep praying for the students who will follow you. God has a story in mind for them. He may be calling you to pray for them.

In a down power line, God reminded me that He still is answering prayer, even if I only occasionly am able to see it. It's not just a coincidence that safety is provided when we pray for it. Those people who prayed for the incoming freshman class, the class of '98, likely never really got to know me or become familiar with my story, or my roommate's story, or many of the stories that were written while we were there. Yet, those prayers were answered in God letting us find him.

I hope that I pray more now. I pray that I pray more.