The Importance of Prayer

Grace Moment By Moment-weekly column
"The effective fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much"
(James 5:16 NKJV).

"Where Were You When the Olympic Park Bombing Occured?"

The question from my friend startled me. When I agreed to do the interview I had no idea what to expect. I knew she wanted to ask me some questions about my time in South Carolina. Well, that certainly took place then. We were sitting in my house, sipping tea when the subject came up. Reflecting on that event, I smiled. It was one of my favorite memories of Mom. The day I learned how important taking time to pray could be. . .
I remember it as a warm summer day in Sumter, South Carolina. Sunny golden light danced across the carpeted living room and onto the kitchen table as we prepared to start the day. At 7:45 a.m. I checked Mom's blood sugar-140. So I prepared an insulin syringe and gave her, her morning shot while the griddle warmed. A few minutes later, I served our breakfast of hot blueberry pancakes and sizzling sausage with orange juice and coffee. By 8:30 we had eaten and I had washed the breakfast dishes.
As I put the dishes away I asked Mom, "What do you want to do today?"
I knew what the answer would be. It's what we did every Saturday.
"Let's start with baking cinnnamon rolls,then maybe, some chocolate chip cookies or pies later." Mom replied her eyes lit with a smile, "You know how Uncle Bob and Aunt Mary love them."
Yeah, I know." I laughed. "It seems we can't keep them around long enough to satisfy their sweet tooth."
"Or mine." Mom added with a laugh.
As I began setting out the pans and utensils, I reflected on our routine. Every Saturday morning, as we listened to the Christian radio serial programs, Mom and I baked sugar free baked goods. I did most of the physical work since Mom had suffered a stroke a few years before. But it in no way diminished her joy of baking or the time we shared together. As I set the final ingredient on the table, Mom's mood changed.
"Honey, we need to keep praying. That ominous sense of trouble I mentioned a few weeks ago is stronger than ever today. I don't know what it means. . . I hope nothing bad is going to happen but we just need to keep praying."
"Okay, Mom." I had felt the same troubling sense of unease for a couple of weeks now. I knew from Mom's teaching, and from my own experience, never argue with God when He impresses a need for His people to pray.
About an hour later, we were halfway through the second batch of cinnamon rolls, with the first one in the oven baking. Suddenly I had to go to the bathroom.
"Mom I'll be right back." I yelled as I ran down the hallway. The hall clock read 9:00 a.m. Mom's favorite radio program Ranger Bill was on. In the bathroom the words, "Prayer is the essence of our walk with Jesus. It is the pipeline through which He hears us." floated through my mind. Outside the thermometer read 92 degrees and even though I wore a tank top and shorts, I shivered.
Suddenly I heard Mom scream, "AH-H-H No! No!"
Startled, I ran from the bathroom, calling, "Mom? Mom, what is wrong?"
No answer came except . . . sobbing.
When I reached the kitchen Mom clutched her chest, her face the color of chalk. "Mom, Mom what is it? Are you having chest pains?" I asked as I crouched next to her.
Shaking, she hoarsely voiced, "No-o, the . . . the radio."
Nothing about this made sense because when I turned towards the radio I could hear Ranger Bill still on. Just then the morning radio host broke in to make an announcement.
"Folks, it has just been confirmed, A bombing occurred at the Olympic Park in Atlanta, Georgia during the wee hours this morning. There are unconfirmed reports as to the number of fatalities and injuries. The investigation is still ongoing. We will continue to break in with details as needed. Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming."
Shocked, I collapsed into a nearby chair. Moments passed as Mom calmed herself. Then her eyes locked with mine. I reached for her and she clasped my hand as we bowed our heads in prayer. The smell of warm, buttery cinnamon wafted from the oven and lingered in the air around us. Foremost in our minds were the thoughts of the families and victims in Atlanta. I'll never forget the words we prayed in unison.
"Lord, we come to you with heavy hearts today. People are suffering in Atlanta and elsewhere. Please, Father. Let Your Will be done, not ours, but Yours. Comfort and sustain those who are hurting right now. Thank you that You can always call on us to pray, in Jesus' name, Amen."
As I took a sip of tea, my friend said, "Wow! That is sure some story."
I smiled, then replied, "Yeah, it is. Today, we face similar situations all over the world, and it is more important than ever that people always, always take time to pray."

Grace That Sustains

Moment By Moment-weekly column

Overcoming Obstacles-Never Give Up!
I was nearing twenty when my world tumbled to the ground. One morning Mom and I walked to town, as we came to the main street, Mom said, "Honey, come on. We have to hurry to get across."
I remember thinking as we moved into the street, What's going on? My legs are tingling. Looking up I saw a semi trailer bearing down on us. The driver's eyes locked with mine and I thought I would faint. I managed to pick up my pace. We walked halfway across when my legs went numb, and I hit the pavement.
Mom's face reflected my own horror and fear. Then she grabbed me under the shoulders, and muttered, "God give me strength." Mom hauled me to the other side of the street. We both collapsed as the semi roared by.
Mom went into the grocery store next door and called for help. We waited only fifteen minutes for a ride but it seemed endless. My mind raced with questions. Why can't I feel my hand touching my thigh? Why can't I stand or walk? Why am I so sick?
At the doctor's office I underwent extensive testing. Dr. Rafe told us what wasn't wrong. "Belle, you don't have cancer, polio, or a tumor."
"Should I celebrate?" I wassn't sure.
Dr. Rafe replied, "No. I wouldn't. What you do have is Multiple Scleriosis."
Mom voiced my thoughts when she asked, "What do we do now?"
Dr. Rafe soberly replied, "There is nothing you can do. Go home and prepare to die."
"What?" Shaken to the core, I stammered. "There has to be something we can do. Is there someone we can contact for more information?"
Dr. Rafe answered, "Not in Indiana. I have asked all my colleagues here and no one knows anything. Keep track of your symptoms and rest. That is the best prescription I can give you."
During the next couple of months, I stumbled and fell when I tried to walk on my own so I used a walker for stability. The lesions developing in my brain caused severe headaches, blurred vision, and tingling in my limbs, followed by numbness. As time went by my health worsened and I became homebound. I felt depressed and discouraged, and it was a struggle to get out of bed, much less make it to the bathroom in time.
I raged at God. Even though friends and family come to visit, where are You in all of this?
But Mom never doubted God or what He would accomplish in my life. Instead, she encouraged me to "Write whatever comes to mind, but never, never give up!"
Privately, I railed at God. Why is this happening to me? All my life I've battled health problems. Now MS. Haven't I suffered enough?
One night, almost a year after my diagnosis, I lay in bed reading and praying. Even though it seemed as if my prayers bounced off the ceiling, I wouldn't give up. I ache with emptiness and a thirst for a closer relationship with You. Do You hear me at all?
Mom lay asleep in the next bedroom. I took a deep breath. The fragrance of lavender, like the sachets Grandma used to tuck in Mom's linen drawer, brought a smile to my face as it permeated the room. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I knew God's presence was in the room with me.
As stones drop in a wishing well so these words from Philippians 4:13 and Zechariah 4:6 echoed in my mind, "My child, in My strength you can do all things. Not by might nor by power but by My Spirit."
I cried.
When I opened my eyes the next morning, I knew I was made of sterner stuff. I no longer wallowed in self-pity. From home, I started a prayer newsletter for the shut-ins of the church Mom and I attended. I also started compiling books of poems, stories and letters for my nieces.
Now as I sit at the computer typing, I smile. The fatigue I battle is a breath away, but the Grace God gives me sustains me moment by moment.

Planned for God's Pleasure: Worship

Prayer is an important part of the Person I choose to be,
it is a conscious choice of worship that sets My Spirit free.
I ask myself the question daily, 'What would Jesus do?'
than try to live my life, as an example, before you.
Finding hope where there is none,
means reaching upwards to Jesus, God's Son.
His nail-scarred hands clasp hungrily to mine
while He says, "Cling to me for I Am the true living Vine."
So, for every prayer of a person's name that enters my mind,
you will find,
my greatest treasure
is, knowing you were created for God's Pleasure.

Written By:
Belle Anne Leslie

Written on:
March 14, 2006