Becoming Prayer

I will pray until I become prayer itself. (Ps 109:4 TPT) 

Several weeks ago, my mother, trying to address the terrible burning pain in her esophagus, wound up in the ER. Bad acid reflux had really done a job. Mom and Dad had been sitting in the waiting room for nearly an hour by the time I arrived.

It was packed, but quiet. There was no ambient noise or music playing. Each person or family were huddled up waiting to be seen by a professional.

My parents live quietly and move a bit slower these days, yet, even in her pain, Mom, the overt extrovert, was looking to interact with folks. Everyone was gracious as she made much over a new baby, or the color of a nearby sweater, or anything that caught her fancy. Comically, she spoke quite loudly, having left her hearing aids at home. When she excused herself to the restroom, I announced to those near us, “We bring our own entertainment wherever we go.” The smiles helped lighten the mood.

It was a long wait, so I went to get some food for us. Upon exiting the ER, I saw a car pull up and a very concerned 30-something man working hard to get a 60-something mother from the front seat into a wheelchair. She looked very grave indeed and instantly a flood of compassion washed over me, and I began to pray under my breath. “Can I help you?” I asked.

“Oh, no, thank you,” said the man. Not taking no for an answer, I held the front door open while he carefully transferred his mother to a wheelchair. “Thank you, sir,” he said, and quickly wheeled her into the ER. He left his car door open and engine running in his haste, blocking the emergency entrance, but I surmised he’d be right back.

I drove quickly to Wendy’s and made it back in fifteen minutes. After parking, and walking back to the ER entrance, I noticed that same car. The door was still open, the engine was still running, and now other vehicles were stacked up behind. That same rush of compassion welled up and I prayed afresh. I hustled into the waiting room, delivering the food to my parents. Scanning the room, I spotted the man at the intake desk looking concerned.

I drew up close, saying “Hey, friend, you left your car running out front, but you stay right here with you mother. I’ll go park it for you and bring the keys back in just a minute.”

“Oh man, thanks, I’m in a fog right now,” he said.

God's compassion can turn us into prayer for someone else

I hustled out again, praying with compassion. His car was in rough shape, the bumpers hanging loose as was the dashboard inside. As I put it in gear, the roar  of the engine echoed horribly. It took a minute to find a spot in the garage, but  when I returned to the ER entrance, he was waiting for me, with head hanging low. 

“Here you go, pal,” I said, holding out the keys. “I parked it in the parking
garage. So, what’s going on?”

He shared, “That’s my mom, she’s been bad sick, but today she is worse, can’t stand, or walk and hardly talking.”

I said, “I’m so sorry, man, you must feel overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, I do,” he answered, wiping his eyes. From that simple statement, a story of hardship large enough for three people flowed out of him, and now his mother, who relies on him, is yet more.

I shared how my mother was in the ER, too, and that it looked like we both needed God’s help. His name was Carl. Without even thinking, carried along by this intense compassion, I asked if I could pray for both of us. I had been praying all along, only now my words were heard.

With hand on his shoulder and heart, I asked the God of mercy and peace to rest on us and especially our mothers. I prayed other things, too, and found Carl very emotional. Being prayed for was a new experience for
him, but he was grateful.

“God really loves you,” I said. “He sees you and hears you when you call out; Jesus is just a prayer away.”

“Thanks so much, man,” he said, wiping his face, “You must be some kind
of angel or something.”

His phone rang, breaking the moment. We shook hands and I rejoined my parents in the waiting room. Our paths didn’t cross after that, but I know the compassion of God became prayer to him that day, and that made all the difference.

Who have you become prayer for lately?