Prayer has never been one of my strengths. This is especially true in groups where I have to pray aloud. I get nervous and I start to focus less on God and more on what I need to say. It’s a work in progress for sure.
A few days ago I had to walk over to "The Salvation Army Adult Rehabilitation Center" to volunteer. I don’t normally work over there but "The River of Life Mission" where I serve lunch was closed so I figured I would go and see what I could do at the ARC. As I walked down the side of A’ala Park I recognized a couple of guys lying on the ground next to the bridge, so I stopped to say "Hi". They looked tired and very upset. Ted was one of them; his hair tussled from the backpack he had used as a pillow, his shirt dirty from weeks of not washing it. He was always interesting to talk to because he always had something to say. This time it was the elections. The man he now had to call president was not who he had voted for. So he was talking his usual smack about Washington D.C. I tried to encourage him by giving my opinion and that seemed to calm him down a bit but did not stop his rambling on about the subject.
As we chit chatted a man that I had seen before but never really “met” came and sat by Ted. With a smile he reached his hand out and told me his name was Harold, and I introduced myself as well. He was about as tall as me and always had his shirt lifted half way up. He had really short hair and a wiry beard and mustache which was brown, just like his hair. His face was round and tan from the sun, and his smile was infectious. I asked how he had been and he asked if I would talk with him as he scooted down the rock wall, away from Ted and the others.
As his smile faded, he told me about his “baby”. He loved her a lot and he just knew that she liked him better than her mother. She was just two years old now and he wasn’t allowed to see her. By this time his eyes were swollen with tears and he admitted to me that he was a drunk, a man in desperate need of one thing – alcohol. That was why he couldn’t see his daughter. He wanted to stop drinking, but he just couldn’t. He sat trying to rub the tears from his eyes, and I had nothing to say. I agreed with him that addiction is hard to overcome. Looking back I know I should have told him that God is the only way he can truly strip away the chains of addiction. I could have said so much to this man, but I didn’t. The only words that ran through my head were, “Can I pray for you?” Every bone in my body shook and trembled at the thought, but my heart was strong and ached in pain for this man, Harold. So I spoke aloud those words I was thinking. He agreed and we joined hands. He held my hand so tight all I could do was clench his tightly back, and we called on the name of the Lord together.
When we finished praying I looked up into Harold’s infectious smile and smiled back, thankful that God gives courage to the timid and comfort to the hurting.
