Lesson #1: How to Pray in Church

It’s time again for the midweek prayer meeting at church. You go because your parents make you. When you reach 21 in a couple years, you won’t have to go anymore.

The moderator asks for prayer requests. Everyone starts to shuffle around, getting pen and paper ready. Don’t say anything. No one ever says anything for at least 15 seconds, not until the noise dies down. Glance around to see what everyone else is doing, but don’t turn your head; just shift your eyes. Shuffle some papers to make some noise. Flip some pages in your Bible to make more noise, like you’re looking for a sheet of paper to write requests on. You turned to the Song of Solomon by mistake. Wait, what’s that word? That’s in the Bible?! Try to look away. You can’t. Oh no, your friend is staring at you. Quickly close your Bible and whisper to him, “I really like poetry in old English. Don’t you?” Your friend says nothing.

Some man in the back mutters the first prayer request. His second cousin is sick, and the doctors don’t know what he has. Look at the wall above the moderator’s head with a somber look. Then look down and shake your right shoulder a bit so it looks like you’re writing the request. Your friend is writing the request in his notebook. Another request from the back: pray for Samuel and Ruth Miller in Haiti. Then another: pray for Sister Mary Hershberger teaching school in El Salvador. Pray for the Luke Coblentz family in Belize. Pray for the other Luke, Luke Bontrager at Hillcrest. He’s your friend so you have to write him down. Ask your friend for a piece of paper. He gives you one. Ask him if you can borrow his pen when he’s done using it. He consents. When you get the pen, write, “Pray for Luke the Puke Bontrager.”

Oops, the pen slipped out of your hand. It’s on the floor somewhere, but you can’t find it. Your friend gives you a look. When the next request is given and everyone looks down to write, quickly lean down and look under the front pew. Nope, not there. Look between your legs under your pew. There it is! But it’s out of reach. Turn around and whisper to the boy behind you, “Hey, could you kick me that pen.” He looks down and gives it a little kick. You take the opportunity while turned around to scan the audience. That man who gave the first request is sleeping. So are other people. You start to wonder if there will be anyone left soon to make more prayer requests. You wonder what would happen if their heads fell off their neck and into their laps. But there seems to be enough children awake to notice the accident, and gently put their parents’ heads back on their neck without disturbing the graceful sleepers.

You turn back around. Your friend has since retrieved the pen and is franticly trying to catch up. He’s looking at his other neighbor for the rest. You don’t care. You’d rather be somewhere else. Outside, maybe. Maybe at home. Or back at CBS. You had a lot of cool friends at CBS, and they made you feel good. You look over at the women’s side out of the corner of your eye. There’s Rachel. She’s so pretty. She would make a great girlfriend. You think more about her. You try not to think about what you read in Song of Solomon. Uh oh. Look away quickly to try to not think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t. No. Don’t. Try not. Try not. Please don’t. No. No. Hold it. Right there. Ahhh… okay, you’re safe. Look back at her. She was so cute last Saturday night at volleyball. You wish you were at volleyball again. She looked at you once when you were serving. Then you made four points in a row. She looked again and said, “Way to go!” You heard that voice all week, “Way to go!” At work, “Way to go!” At home, “Way to go!” In your sleep, “Way to go!” “Way to go!” “Way to go!” “Way to go!”

“Hey- let’s go, let’s go, c’mon.” Your friend is poking you with his pen. Oops, you must have dozed off. He’s getting up, and there’s a shuffle in the sanctuary. Time to go pray. Get up and stick close to your friend. You don’t want to be stuck in a group with people you don’t like. He goes out of the sanctuary and into a classroom. There’s already a group of older men in one corner. They look at you. Look away. Look for somewhere else to pray. You push in front of your friend and announce, “Let’s start a new group over there.” Go to the far other side of the room. Another one of your friends follows you. Three’s good enough for a prayer group, all people you like.

Your first friend looks at the two of you, and just as he’s about to get you ordered to pray, another older man walks in the room. It’s one of the ministers, the weird minister. The one you can’t talk to, but the one who likes to come try to talk to you. You look down like you’re already praying. He sees your friends not looking down. “No, don’t come over here. Go to the other group,” you think. He comes to your group.

“May I join you young Daniels as you seek the Lord in your youth?” Say nothing. No one says anything. Your first friend finally says, “Yeah, I guess.” The minister joins your group. He’s smiling. You don’t know why he’s smiling. Why is he smiling? Maybe he knows how miserable you are because you can’t be yourself now. Now you’re going to have to try to pray for real. “Well…” he says, looking at you. Think to yourself quickly, “Don’t ask me to start, don’t ask me to start, don’t ask me to start…” as if the faster you think it, the more likely it will come true. “Well, maybe you’d like to start?” Don’t look at him. He’s talking to your friend. You hope. Pause. He’s talking to you. Look up. He’s looking at you. Look down. He wants you to start. You have to start. “Okay, let’s pray.”

Everyone looks down. You pull the sheet of paper out of your Bible. It’s blank, except one line: “Luke the Puke Bontrager.” You start blaming your problems on Luke. This is somehow Luke’s fault. What’d he go off to Hillcrest for anyhow? They probably never have to pray at Hillcrest; they’re too cool for that.

They’re waiting for you to start. Hold out your hand to your friend and motion for his prayer list. He sees you. His eyes are open. He never closed them. He gives it to you. But you have to start the prayer. You start praying; you’re not sure where you’re getting this from, but you just start talking.

“Dear God… uh… thanks for the beautiful day and the beautiful weather outside. Thanks for the rain last week. Thanks for the… uh… the… uh…. sunshine today, even though we need more rain. Thanks for this day you’ve given us. God, we just pray tonight that… uh… that you help us be with you today, and be with the people tonight who needed prayer. Uh, we pray for the uh…”

You can’t read your friends handwriting. You lazily shift your weight to your left leg. You take a stab at what the list says.

“… the… uh… several Holsteins that are sick. You know the need there. Pray that your will is done with them, and help the owner not loose too much money if they die.”

What did you just say there at the end? You continue, shifting your weight to your right leg…

“Uh, pray for Samuel and Rob who are missing… uh… Haiti.”

You think for a second. Haiti, that sounds familiar. Wait, that’s Samuel and Ruth in Haiti. You try to think of a way to correct it. Nothing is coming. Just pretend you said it right. The minister will think he didn’t hear right. Shift your weight to your left leg.

“Just be with them as they witness to the people there, Samual and Ruth, in Haiti. They’re good mission-aries.”

You slur but emphasize the first two syllables trying to make it sound as much like ‘missing’ as possible. Hopefully, your plan is working. The minister mumbles an audible, forced, “Amen.”

You know now that you’re praying for the missionaries. You shift your weight to your right leg. You continue.

“And pray for Mary Hershberger and Luke Coblentz. Just be with them tonight.

“Yes, Lord,” the minister interrupts again. It’s starting to get on your nerves. After all, who’s supposed to be doing the praying here?

“And we pray for uh…” You look at the list. It’s Luke, your friend at Hillcrest! Someone you actually care about… You forget you were angry with him just a moment ago. You shuffle your paper so you can look at your list to pray for Luke. After all, it’s the only prayer request you wrote down.

“Just pray tonight God for Luke the Puke Bontrager at Hillcrest. Help him God to… to…” Wait. Did you just say that? Did you just say ‘Luke the Puke?’ You bend your neck up just a bit and look at your friends for help. They’re staring back, with their eyes more open than closed, and their eyebrows cocked. You did just say ‘puke.’ You glance at the minister. He’s still hunched over, mumbling something, talking to himself. Okay, you’ve had enough praying. You end the prayer. “So God, just be with us all tonight and throughout the remainder of the week. Christ’s name we pray.”

There’s a pause. No one specified earlier who was going next. Your one friend starts to pray, but the minister suddenly bursts into cheers of acclamation, praying with enough energy to keep everyone’s head on their neck. He goes on and on and on… How long is he going to pray? He hasn’t even got to the list yet, and he’s still praying. You stare at the floor. You shift your weight to your left leg. You shift your weight to your right leg. Your back starts to hurt from bending over. You’re tired. But you can’t close your eyes. The minister’s little boy is sitting on the floor, picking his nose. Yuck! He wipes it on the floor.

“Psst!” you say. The boy looks up. Stick your tongue out at him. He smiles. Make more weird faces. The boy starts to laugh. Oh no, he’s laughing! Mouth with your lips “Shut up!” several times, but to no avail. He thinks that’s funny too. You see the minister open his eyes and grab the boy’s hand. Oops, you got him in trouble. The minister continues praying. Time goes by. The other group is done praying. They’re talking. They’re kissing. You hope the minister doesn’t try to kiss you. He always kisses on the lips.

The minister finishes. There’s not much time left. Both of your friends quickly run down the prayer list. They’re done within a couple minutes. You feel dumb. Why did you feel you had to talk as much as you did? They hardly said anything.

You all look up. You all look back at the floor and say nothing. Okay, if you’re going to avoid the kiss, you’d better make a run for it. Start to leave. The minister catches you and puts out his hand. You’re stuck! Pinned against the wall, caught like a Beachy boy in a Beachy trap!

“Greetings brother!” the minister says. He grabs your hand and comes in. There’s nothing you can do at this point. Nothing at all. He’s moving for the lips. You close your eyes to protect at least one of your five senses. The other four are helpless. Your thoughts quickly start to blur. Suddenly, you see Rachel. “Way to go!” she says, “Way to go!” You just won the game for your team. Everyone is cheering! “Way to go!” She runs over to your corner of the volleyball court. Stepping towards you, she grabs your hand, leans in, and smears that impassioned surge of ecstasy right on your two trembling lips.