God of Menial Prayers
Last Sunday I had the chance to sub in Thomas' Sunday School class. He was absolutely thrilled to have me as his "teacher." The little lesson talked about prayer. We talked about the story of Elijah and the Shunamite's son; how when her little boy grew sick, Elijah prayed and God healed him. As I was reading the story, one of Thomas' little friends raised his hand. "Thomas' Mom? I have the hiccups and I think I'm really sick. Could we pray for me?"
I hesitated for half a second. Hiccups? I know they're only three or four years old. Should I risk trivializing prayer? At the same time, hadn't I just told them that God wants us to pray all the time about all kinds of things? And what could be more pressing to a four-year-old than a case of stubborn hiccups?
So we stopped the lesson. I knelt by Max and we prayed that God would heal him of his hiccups. I finished the lesson and the kids went back to playing. A little while later, I asked Max about his hiccups. He stopped and thought for a minute, then said, "They're gone! God healed me!" We prayed and thanked God for healing him and hearing our prayer. And that was the end of that lesson. Or so I thought.
It's been several days since the little incident. Thomas, ironically, has had the hiccups several times this week. He's come running to me every time, "Mom! Please pray! I have the hiccups again!" I've prayed for him each time, and each time he's been "healed."
I've thought long and hard about the whole thing. Does it trivialize prayer to ask for things like that? At the same time, learning to pray faithfully in these situations, watching to see God answer, learning that he is faithful (sometimes even when the answers aren't what we expect)... Isn't that the kind of thing that creates a heart of prayer?
I have to think God has been smiling this week. He must have beamed at Max's excitement at being "healed." Who knows? Maybe the number of times Thomas has had the hiccups this week has been intentional, to continue to drive home the lesson. I hope it stays with them, that somewhere in their impressionable little four-year-old minds, a case of Sunday school hiccups serves as a vivid example of the power of prayer and sets them up to be faithful prayer warriors.
I hesitated for half a second. Hiccups? I know they're only three or four years old. Should I risk trivializing prayer? At the same time, hadn't I just told them that God wants us to pray all the time about all kinds of things? And what could be more pressing to a four-year-old than a case of stubborn hiccups?
So we stopped the lesson. I knelt by Max and we prayed that God would heal him of his hiccups. I finished the lesson and the kids went back to playing. A little while later, I asked Max about his hiccups. He stopped and thought for a minute, then said, "They're gone! God healed me!" We prayed and thanked God for healing him and hearing our prayer. And that was the end of that lesson. Or so I thought.
It's been several days since the little incident. Thomas, ironically, has had the hiccups several times this week. He's come running to me every time, "Mom! Please pray! I have the hiccups again!" I've prayed for him each time, and each time he's been "healed."
I've thought long and hard about the whole thing. Does it trivialize prayer to ask for things like that? At the same time, learning to pray faithfully in these situations, watching to see God answer, learning that he is faithful (sometimes even when the answers aren't what we expect)... Isn't that the kind of thing that creates a heart of prayer?
I have to think God has been smiling this week. He must have beamed at Max's excitement at being "healed." Who knows? Maybe the number of times Thomas has had the hiccups this week has been intentional, to continue to drive home the lesson. I hope it stays with them, that somewhere in their impressionable little four-year-old minds, a case of Sunday school hiccups serves as a vivid example of the power of prayer and sets them up to be faithful prayer warriors.
