Hopefully

A friend who appreciated my recent sermon on faith hopefully asked me to preach on prayer if or when I visit again; so maybe so, both visit if invited back I should live so long, and sermon topic if my mind is still working.

Prayer for a Christian is inseparable from faith. We smoke prayers up to heaven like incense, on both scriptural promise of being heard and assurance of things unseen, choosing to believe that whoever or whatever gave us being not only is listening, but also is there in the first place, and cares, and is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think. If that sounds like doubt, it is just that, doubt being, for post-kindergarten faith, a solid rock that is scripturally blessed in Saint Thomas whose namesake I am -- whose motto is "just because I believe it, that don’t make it so." Faith is looking up at the heavens, seeing nothing but infinite firmament, but praying neverthelessly and hopefully on the off chance that one hears who can help in some discernible or unknown way.

During my own 2010-11 adventure I felt very strongly the prayers of friends known and unknown, for my health. Were those prayers efficacious? Well, I wouldn’t have wanted to make the journey without them, including the blessing of my rector travelling 2000 miles round trip to anoint my head with oil and prayer.

This early morning I have no interest or intent to search the web for data, but there are statistics which indicate that sick people who are prayed for, even if they are unaware that someone is praying for them, fare better than people who are not prayed for. Maybe there is power in the blood. Some folks are offended by the notion that God needs nudging, praising, worshiping or whining-to in order to stoop over and pat us on the head. Others, perhaps myself included, try to live in somewhat constant prayer, keeping God on his toes by battering his throne with the names of folks I am concerned about. Who? All of my loved ones wherever they are. John in hospital, who knows he’s in my prayer. Richard, critically injured in a motorcycle crash, who doesn’t even know I exist, whose daughter is frantic about her daddy. My prayer this morning is that Richard doesn’t slip away unable to say goodbye.

Somewhat doubtfully, we of faith tend, unconsciously or not, to let God off the hook by alleging that our prayers are not to change God or get God off his throne, but to open ourselves so that God may change us and those for whom we pray. I’m OK with that, including when I officiate a service involving laying on of hands and anointing with oil with prayer for healing. It’s God’s to do with as God chooses. I pray hopefully. That’s faith.

TomW+