Be Careful What You Pray For

The other day I was reading about the father of John the Baptist; no, I'm not talking about my neighbor John who is a Baptist, or your neighbor John who is a Baptist; I'm talking about the wild man John the Baptist in the Bible. I've no doubt that John the Baptist would have ridden a Harley had they had bikes in those days, as would have Elijah...but I digress.

John's father's name was Zacharias and he was a priest. I don't know if when he was a kid they called him Zack or not, and I don't know if he played baseball with the neighborhood kids, I am pretty sure he didn't play football because of the whole pigskin thing.

Ok, so I'm reading Luke 1:5-24 and I get to the words of the angel to Zack, "Do not be afraid Zacharias, for your petition [prayer] has been heard, and your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will give him the name John."

Now verse 7 tells us that Zack and his wife, Elizabeth (was she called Betty or Liz?), were "both advanced in years". That means that they were old. That means that Liz was likely past her childbearing years.

So here's a question, this prayer that the angel refers to that Zacharias prayed (probably a whole series of prayers) - just when was the last time Zack prayed the prayer? Did he pray it that morning? Did he pray it that week? Or had it been so long since Elizabeth had passed her childbearing years that Zacharias just didn't pray the prayer anymore? I've got an idea that it had been years since that prayer was prayed, I've got an idea that Zacharias had long since ceased to hope for a child with Elizabeth.

This is encouraging to me in that I'm sure there are prayers I've stopped praying for one reason or another - but just because I've stopped praying them doesn't mean that they won't be answered - any maybe answered when I least expect it, maybe answered when I've long forgotten about them, maybe answered when I think that there's just no way an answer is possible.

Do you have any prayers like that? If so, hang in there - you never know!

Maureen and Sean – X

Around 10:30 that night a nurse appeared in the waiting room and guided us into an adjacent consulting room to meet the surgeon. While Sean’s injuries were life-threatening at the time of the accident, due to the quick response of EMT’s, the rapid transport to Charlottesville, and the fact that he was in surgery shortly after arriving at the hospital – the long-term prognosis was good. However, because he was pretty banged up there would be an extended time of recovery.

During my drive home that night my thoughts returned to Mike Gunther. About four weeks after Mike’s crash Ray located one of his daughters and found out from her the rehab facility that Mike was in. The facility was in Harrisonburg; Mike was transferred there so he would be close to his family; Mike was divorced and had two adult daughters and one adult son, all of whom lived in the Harrisonburg area.

Ray and I visited Mike a few times during his five-month recuperation; sometimes we visited together and sometimes one of us would drop in if we were in Harrisonburg on errands or other visits. Mike was a pretty big guy, around 6 feet 4 inches; a photo of him and his bike that was on a table in his room showed an auburn beard down to his chest and hair in a ponytail; the beard and ponytail were gone when we met him; while the bike was gone too, totaled in the crash, I had little doubt that one day Mike would ride again if at all possible. On a bulletin board in the room were tacked get-well cards and Mylar balloons that had lost their helium. Some of the cards were store-bought; others were made by his grandchildren.

Because at the time I was still riding my own motorcycle I used bikes as a bridge for conversation. Mike rode a Harley, I rode a Honda, so while Mike probably felt a bit sorry for me (that’s the way some of those Harley guys are) I guess he thought that under his present circumstances that it would be ok if he communed with a Honda rider – and after all, I was a pastor and he probably thought I didn’t know any better about bikes – I mean, what can a man who only works one day a week possibly know about bikes?

About eight months after his accident our church invited Mike to be our guest of honor at a Saturday night fellowship dinner. He came with one of his daughters, her husband, and their 2 children. Mike thanked everyone for their support and prayers, as did his daughter – it was good to see him. I didn’t realize that I’d soon see him again under another set of trying circumstances.

Maureen and Sean – IX

The following morning in our worship service, during our general sharing time, Ray Hammond gave us an update on the biker:

“The ambulance met the helicopter at Johnson’s store on the way to Middletown. Johnson’s was the only place to land at night and the thinking was that if for some reason the helicopter couldn’t land in the parking lot that they’d just continue to Middletown hospital. They almost lost him a couple of times in the ambulance and then again on the flight to Charlottesville. I’m trying to get some information on him and his family so we can see how he’s doing.”

The biker – his name was Mike Gunther – made it through surgeries over the next week and was soon transferred to a rehab facility. I wondered what Sean was going through as I thought about Mike. I wondered if Sean was being operated on. I wondered if Sean would be in a rehab unit. I wondered how Maureen was doing.

After arriving at University Hospital and checking with the front desk I made my way to ICU. As I entered the room Maureen and Sharon were sitting together; they stood as I walked toward them and I hugged them both together.

“How’s he doing?” I asked.

“They’re operating on him”, Maureen said, “we haven’t talked to a doctor yet, it all happened so fast, they did say that he was stable and alert when they got him here and that that’s good news.”

Susan came into the room with 3 cups of coffee. “Hi Bob, can I go back and get you a cup?”

“No thanks, I’m good right now. When did you get here?”

“About two hours ago,” Sharon replied.

“Let’s pray,” I said, holding out my hands as a sign for us all to join hands. We prayed for Sean, for Maureen, for the kids, for the doctors and nurses. We prayed for God’s grace and love to envelope the Coughlin family. I thanked God that Susan and Sharon were such great friends for Maureen.

In our society people can be uncomfortable about praying in public – that’s sad. If we are God’s creation, and if we are His children, then prayer is a natural response to our heavenly Father and it should be a major thread in our tapestry of life. Prayer not only allows us to express our desires to our Father and Lord Jesus, but it also reminds us and those around us that God is with us and that His love and grace surround us. If we are to be the presence of God for others, then part of being that presence, part of being a conduit of Divine grace and mercy, is prayer - including verbal and public prayer.

On the other hand I’m not a fan of prayer at civic functions. I don’t think perfunctory prayer (which such prayer is for most people) is generally appropriate because it can delude people into thinking that God is hovering over the gathering to impart His benevolence on our civic or political or sports agendas – God is not a civil servant whose job is to impart blessing and protection and good feelings to us while we live life as we darn well see fit.

After prayer I walked out in the hallway to call Vickie and tell her that I’d probably be at the hospital for quite awhile.