Sometimes I Pray Slow

Each morning comes more quickly than we would like, so in our flurry towards the door we pray, only as a good Christian should. We pray for the economy, at least our own, at least our bank account, to be filled and abundant. We pray for the day to go well and that in it we will bear it, get by, make it through.

But somtimes I pray slow.

If I pray slow I tell You that I am afraid of becoming like the missionaries around the world, of a calling to far away people and no running water. If I pray slow, I pray to be awakened from this complacency, this mediocre living; for a spirit that hungers to go.

If I pray slow, I relate my fears of rejection, of men, of sleep, of the dark, of being found out, of being embarrassed, of the future, of disappointing others, of disappointing myself, of being fat, of loving someone indifferent.

If I pray slow, I remember the hostage of a prison in Iraq, of the brothel down the street, of the devil in their sin. I plead my Deliverer to be theirs, too, and beg for Salvation Himself to come soon.

But that's only if I pray slow.

And I'm not known for my pace.