Praying with My Elders

It's late, and I haven't done all that I need to do before tomorrow. A chunk of my time this evening was taken up with praying with various friends from my church; and I know that if it hadn't been for that, I would be further along by now with my evening chores--maybe even asleep in bed. But without a doubt, it was time well spent.

This was only my third time going to this particular prayer meeting since Jeff usually goes and I stay home with the boys; but each time I go, it is a delight to my soul. I sit there and listen...

The sound of voices, sometimes weak and trembling, sometimes strong...

legs crossing and uncrossing...

the clearing of throats...

Shav's cooing...

they all echo in the space.

Every time so far, I've been struck by the joyful solemnity of prayer with my elders, these saintly men and women of God who have walked with Him much longer than I have and who have been tested and brought forth as gold from the furnaces of Real Life. When I hear Clayton's voice, I picture my grandfather. Instead of Ellen, I hear my grandmother. With my eyes closed, I can almost feel the presence of my own physical ancestors as I remember their faith expressed in such similar ways. If all goes as it normally does, most of these dear people with whom I prayed tonight will enter heaven's door before me; but when I think of them after that time, I will remember the awesome privilege I had of jointly adoring and beseeching the Lord with them during these nights of prayer.

And perhaps I will hear the echo of their voices in the corners of that sanctuary.

Where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them.

~ Matthew 18:20