March 17, 2011
“Would you pray for my sister?” the burly worker asked awkwardly. I eyed him suspiciously.
Months earlier, muggy August heat intensified emotions in the pre-strike atmosphere of the assembly plant where I was working that summer. Managers drove production at a frenzied pace and union members resisted. During breaks, we were coached by union officials on slowing down our output. My faith and idealism got me in the doghouse because I didn’t think God would accept anything but my best effort. I naively tried to explain.
My co-workers’ response was harassment, and this burly worker asking for prayer had been the ringleader. An undesirable task? I got the assignment. Off-color jokes had me as the star.
So now I greeted this prayer request with suspicion. “Why me?” His answer jarred me: “Because she’s got cancer,” he said gruffly, “and I need someone God will hear.” The bitter rancor between us eased as I prayed for his sister.
Like the centurion in Luke 7, people in the storms of life don’t waste time or mince words. They go directly to the people whose faith they’ve tagged as real. We need to be those people. Do our lives mark us as a go-to person in touch with God?
No greater help and care
Than when we intercede for them
And bear them up in prayer. —D. De Haan
