Unhurried for 90 Minutes

On Monday, my wife and I went to church for the “Prayer Rooms.” This was our second time.

Going back to church on a Monday feels like waiting for a hit in the 10th inning so you can get out of the ballpark and go home.  That was my first thought when Ethan put the Prayer Rooms slide on the big screen.  Monday, really?

I didn’t know exactly what to expect.  I was thinking maybe several rooms in the children's wing would be set up for prayer.  Maybe different prayer subjects in each room.  I envisioned myself moving from room to room to pray about different important concerns.  When we arrived on Monday at 10:30, we discovered that the Prayer Rooms were all in one room.

I was expecting the longest 90 minutes of my life.  We are going to be in this room praying until noon.  I don’t think I ever prayed for that long at one time.

My favorite time to talk to God is when I’m riding my gravel bike on one of the many dirt roads that define the 1-mile grids of the Thumb of Michigan.  There are no cars, no people, and no distractions.  Just pedal the bike, shift the gears to keep that perfect cadence while riding up and down the occasional gentle hill.  It’s my perfect time to look up across the farmland and discuss things with God.

My friend Nate says he prays best when alone in the wood shop, making something beautiful from a tree.  I’ve heard friends say they like to pray when they have to drive somewhere or while mowing the lawn.

Prayer Rooms are different.  I’m in the process of discovering why.  There is absolutely nothing else for my brain or my muscles to do in the Prayer Rooms: no steering wheel, no carpenter pencil, no heart rate to monitor, no sermon to absorb, nothing.  This idea of absolutely nothing but prayer for 90 minutes is a totally new experience.

What happened the first time was that I sat in the chair.  Then I tried to hit pause on my to-do list processor.  After maybe a 15-minute struggle with this, that thing in my mind that wants me to be productive, efficient, get things done, and plan the next move, got quieter.  Around the 25-minute mark, it's pretty much muted.  “Well, God, I’m going to be here a while. What’s up?”

John 17 came to mind.  I opened the book and started reading.  I read the whole chapter.  I read kind of slowly, knowing that I had over an hour to fill.  I read it again.  Then I read it again.  I read it maybe 5 or 6 times.  I was thinking about what I was reading, of course, but I was also having new thoughts about what Jesus was really thinking, what He wanted for us when He prayed to the Father regarding our oneness with Him and with each other.  And why.  Thoughts that painted a new and more complete picture of Jesus and my relationship with Him.  The article I wrote for the first church newsletter the next day is a summary of this hour-long discussion with God. 

The second Prayer Rooms experience started off the same way.  Turning down the volume of my own agenda and letting the whispered shout of God be heard.  This time, there was a flood of ideas for me to write about.  I spent an hour jotting notes in my pocket-sized Moleskine journal.  All sorts of topics that may one day turn into words on paper.  For some reason, God has me writing stuff these days.  Wow, what a download.

This is a testimony of sorts.  God instructs us in His word to share our testimonies.  He, as usual, is up to something in your life, too.

Jesus did this Prayer Rooms thing all the time.  I’ve read about it in the Gospels.  Off He would go, by himself to pray.  Sometimes his followers didn’t even know where he was.

I know where I’ll be next Monday.  I hope to see you there.

Written by David Pontzer