Please help …

July 11th, 2012 § Leave a Comment

I pray for my kids. Just about everyday. That might get you thinking, “But I don’t believe in God.” Do you suppose that prayers are said only by those who “believe” in God? Think about it. Even at this very moment, how many people are saying, “Oh, please …” In how many places? How many languages? In many cases the one to whom the petition is directed is not even identified. A soldier looking out into a battlefield, a parent in an ICU waiting room, the starving, the homeless, they utter the call of the desperate. It raises for me some interesting questions about the nature of faith.

I have a vision for my son, for my daughters. I didn’t have to try formulate one. Just held ’em in my hands, and Wham! There it was. Can’t shake it, this beautiful picture of the lives they will lead. Part and parcel with the vision are the fears. Holding the most precious things I’d ever held, I could sense them gathering at the door – real and imagined, all that would oppose the realization of my hopes.

You know what I’ve learned? Forget about bringing my children through all that oppose them; forget about me making it happen. As much as I’ve tried, I’ve learned that I get in the way. It’s rough. The countless times I’ve caught myself not able to get out of my own way. I know what I ought to do, but for the life of me, can’t get myself to consistently do it. And yet I love my kids. I can’t shake the vision. So, I pray. I do. And it’s not so much evidence of my “belief” in God as it is a confession that I do not believe in myself.

Just about every day I utter the call of the desperate, the call of a father, “Please help …”

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