Praying for butter

Shellie’s grandson has been in the hospital with an viral infection.

Arlis’s husband Ron has been in the hospital, very sick.

Crystal’s mama died this week after a very long battle with a torturous disease.

Tim’s mama has been in the hospital with pain of an unknown source.

Pray, they ask.

I will, I answer.

And I do pray.

God be with them.

God heal them.

God touch them.

Take away the pain, the fears.

But in truth, I often treat prayer like a butter knife.

I slather a prayer over somebody and then go about my day, doing things, that if I’m embarrassingly honest, I consider more important.

Praying for you is a catch-phrase of this culture. People who don’t even believe in a God say it to one another.

All too often those of us who do believe in God treat prayer like it’s our last option. I’d do more if I could but I can’t, so I’ll just pray.

And that is supposed to encourage others?

We reach for the butter knife when what we really need is the screw-driver, an effective tool that enables us to drill down through the middle of things.

But instead we settle for slathering on a prayer for butter, here and there.

You ever do that?

Reach for the butter knife when what you really need is the screw-driver?

The most eloquent prayer is the prayer through hands that heal and bless. The highest form of worship is the worship of unselfish Christian service. The greatest form of praise is the sound of consecrated feet seeking out the lost and helpless. Billy Graham