If only we’ll heed His call to prayer. Sounds like a challenge, doesn’t it? As if someone has drawn a line in the sand and dared us to stick a big hairy toe over it. But have you ever wondered what this old world would be like if we actually heeded God’s call to prayer? Have you ever fully grasped the power of prayer we have at our disposal?
Ever hear of Dwight L. Moody? I’d love to tell you D. L. Moody is on some branch of my husband’s family tree, but alas, he is not. My father-in-law, Art Moody, sold shoes, as did Dwight when he was a young man, but that’s about as far as it goes. Regardless, I like to think of him as Uncle Dwight. Let me tell you about him.
Dwight Moody was a colorful nineteenth-century evangelist who rose from utter poverty to become one of the greatest preachers of the gospel of all times. He was founder of the Moody Bible Institute, Moody Church, and Moody Publishers in Chicago. I’ve always thought the story of Moody’s life would make a fascinating movie. By all measures, he was a just simple, ordinary man. But when this Massachusetts native was thirty-four years old, he visited Dublin, Ireland, where fellow evangelist Henry Varley said something he would never forget:
“Moody, the world has yet to see what God will do with a man fully consecrated to Him.” It is told that Moody mulled over the statement, repeating it to himself several times. Realizing that there was no requirement for such a man to be educated or scholarly, Moody finally responded, “Well, by the Holy Spirit in me, I’ll be that man!”1
He became the embodiment of an ordinary life used by God to do extraordinary things. Over 100 million people across two different continents would hear him preach. Thousands of lives would be forever changed by the message of salvation he preached. He reached downtrodden street kids and sailors in port, as well as the millionaires, royalty, and political leaders of his time. The message was the same to all: God loves you.
But those who knew him well often said he was a far greater pray-er than preacher. After Moody’s death in 1923, his closest friend, Dr. R. A. Torrey, was asked to speak at a memorial service for him. In that famous sermon, Torrey said, “He was a man who met every difficulty that stood in his way—by prayer. Everything he undertook was backed up by prayer, and in everything, his ultimate dependence was upon God.”2
Granted, you and I may never be the spiritual giant of faith that Moody was. But that same power is available to us today. Have you ever known someone whose heart was sold out to God, whose life was firmly rooted on their knees in prayer? Someone whose prayers made a significant difference in the lives of those around them?
With your permission, I’d like to tell you a very personal story. I lost my mother to colon cancer in April of 2007. She was eighty-two at the time of her death. We’ve always been a very close-knit family, so when she was first diagnosed with Stage IV colon cancer, we were devastated. The cancer had already spread to her liver and stomach. My sister and I were shocked to learn that Mom and Dad’s beloved doctor had never once suggested they have a colonoscopy. How could there be such negligence when early detection through colonoscopy can often prevent cancer? But anger and heartache would never stop the disease that had already ravaged her body. Still, she was convinced she could beat it. At first, she was able to tolerate the chemotherapy. But the cumulative effects of the treatment soon took their toll. Hospice graciously stepped in to provide in-home care.
In what can only be called a divine appointment, my sister and I had made plans to visit Mom and Dad at home in Tulsa the week following Easter of that year. We’d made our flight reservations back in January thinking we’d go help our parents start packing for their upcoming move to Nashville where they’d be near us. The day we arrived at the house, the hospice aide had just given Mom a bath, and she was just coming out of her bedroom. It was a little startling to see her using a walker, but we were so pleased to see her up and about. She was on some pretty heavy pain medication, so we talked only briefly before she dozed off on the couch.
Little did we know that would be our last conversation with her. She slept around the clock for the next few days, not eating or drinking. By Friday night, she lapsed into a coma, her chest giving up what is called the death rattle—a sound I hope I never hear again. It was necessary to suction out her nose and mouth every twenty minutes or so, so we took turns staying by her side around the clock. We sang some of her favorite hymns and talked to her as if she could hear every word. One night when I was curled up in bed beside her, I began to tell her how much she meant to me and how much I loved her. We’d had so many wonderful memories together.
Then I remembered a time in my life that wasn’t so wonderful. A memory I hadn’t thought about in decades, but one that forever changed the course of my life. It was the year I’d graduated from college. After an emotionally rough summer, I moved to Memphis, Tennessee, where my sister lived. I’d been corresponding with my ex-boyfriend’s best friend (never, never a good idea—trust me on that). “Danny” was in the Navy stationed in Hawaii at the time.
Over the course of time we fell in love and got engaged. I should back up and tell you that at this point in my life, I’d strayed far, far away from the Lord. Which, of course, explains why I was so easily able to turn a blind eye to the numerous warning flags surrounding me. I was head over heels in love with the most romantic man I’d ever known. The wedding plans rushed full steam ahead—invitations printed, the date reserved at the church, wedding gown alterations complete, bridesmaids and groomsmen lined up. Danny would be deployed for six months not long after we married, but I felt confident I would enjoy being a Navy wife.
Then one Saturday morning, just a couple months before our wedding, I woke up and found a letter from Mom in my mailbox. I was surprised at how thick the letter was since we talked several times a week by phone. As I began to read Mom’s letter, something happened to me. It’s hard to put into words, but it was almost as if a window had just been opened, allowing a breeze of fresh air to wash over me. The blinders came off as the truth of my mother’s words penetrated my heart.
You see, my fiancé was not a believer. He was also an alcoholic, though I’d refused to admit it. And when I mentioned that he was the most romantic man I’d ever known, he came by it quite naturally, with a past that included a girl in every port, and then some. But I had convinced myself none of that mattered. He loved me and wanted to marry me, and that was enough.
It wasn’t Danny’s fault. It was completely mine. Danny was who he’d always been—my hilarious, fun-loving, handsome sailor who traveled the world. But I was not the person I’d always been. I’d turned my back on God, becoming someone far removed from the shy girl who’d grown up in church and given her life to Christ. What a mess I’d made of my life.
Mom wasn’t telling me not to marry him. She was reminding me who I was and the commitment I’d made giving my life to Christ so many years ago. She asked me hard questions about the life I would soon be leading as a Navy wife. She could have ranted at me and quoted a thousand scripture verses, but she didn’t. It wasn’t her way. Instead, she simply loved me enough to take an enormous risk. My father recently told me how hard it was for her to send me that letter. He said she wrestled with it for a long time, worrying that I might respond with anger at her intrusion, permanently damaging our relationship.
Dad also told me how fervently she prayed over that letter before she mailed it.
With tears streaming down my face as I read and reread the letter, I finally reached for the phone and called Mom. I sobbed and sobbed before I could finally thank her for helping me see the mistake I was about to make. I thanked her for loving me enough to take the risk she’d taken. In fact, that very day Dad put her on a plane to Memphis to spend some time with me. She prayed with me before I made the call to my sailor, calling off our wedding. She held me as I cried both tears of heartache and tears of relief.
The tender memories of that chapter in my life washed over me that late night as I talked to Mom, her physical life drawing ever closer to an end. I needed to
make sure she knew how grateful I was that God had used her to draw me back to Him. I needed to tell her how thankful I was that God had blessed me with a mother who understood tough love. I needed to let her know how much I appreciated the depth of love she’d always given me through all of my life, even when I was quite unlovable. Two days later, on April 16, 2007, we said our good-byes as my mother passed from this life into the presence of her Lord and Savior.
So you see, I’m more than just a little passionate about the power of prayer. I’m living proof of it. My marriage is living proof of it. My children are living proof of it. The Bible tells us, “The effective, fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much” (James 5:16b, NKJV). The Message puts it this way: “The prayer of a person living right with God is something powerful to be reckoned with.” I can certainly vouch for that in my life. Can you?
Prayer changes things. But I think it’s actually much more than that. Listen to this quote from Oswald Chambers.
To say that “prayer changes things” is not as close to the truth as saying, “Prayer changes me and then I change things.” God has established things so that prayer, on the basis of redemption, changes the way a person looks at things.3
In other words, it’s not so much a matter of “things” being changed as it is a change in the way we perceive those things, then act upon them. Do you think you and I will ever fully embrace or understand that kind of prayer power? Will we ever take God at His word and tap into this kind of life-changing power?
If I were to draw that line in the sand and ask you to heed the call to prayer, would you? And if you did, what kind of changes would be possible in your life? In the lives of those around you? Is there anything holding you back from making a commitment to become serious about your prayer life? If there is, get on your knees. Right here, right now. Offer it up to God, asking Him to forgive you for letting it stand between you and Him. Then bare your soul before Him and ask Him to help you learn how to be a more serious and committed pray-er. Then get ready to see how He will transform your heart and change your life forever!
For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.
—ROMANS 7:15, ESV