I may have prayed for you, today.
I thought you should know.
(Sometimes, when people tell me they are praying for me,
I wonder if they actually remember to pray.
I guess the reason I wonder about such things is because,
Well, … Sometimes, after I’ve told someone I’ll be praying for them,
I forget to pray.
And I wonder if other people are like me?)
So, today I wanted to tell you that you may be among the people I’ve already prayed for, today.
Before the sun came up, I sat in my blue chair.
Quiet and empty as a monk’s closet, the house was.
No one stirring; no one making ‘life’ noises in the house but me.
No conversations or chit-chat going on in any other room.
No dialogue between two participants, except what was being said,
Him, and me.
You may be one of the souls I mentioned in my talk with God, this morning.
I wanted you to know I mentioned you by name.
He, of course already knew who I was talking about, before I described your circumstance.
But I’ve always heard that when you talk to God — when you’re asking God for something — be specific.
And so, I was specific. I asked Him to give you exactly what He thought you need, today.
Since The Book says He’s the Giver of Every Good and Perfect Gift,
I’ve always known He’s the Perfect One to ask for whatever we need.
So, early this morning as I sat in my blue chair,
I looked into the very face of God — the God who once said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light —
And I talked to Him, on your behalf.
I believe, with all my heart, that He sat listening, in rapt attention,
Listening to details He was already well aware of.
Imagine, God hearing the prayers of one like me;
God hearing me list the needs of one like you.
And yet, that’s what took place this morning, in the quiet of my house.
I didn’t forget to pray for you. I wanted you to know.
But then, I imagine I’m not the only one praying for you.
More than likely, you being the wise person I know you are,
You’re praying for you, too.
Be reminded, pilgrim: God already knows.
And He. Never. Forgets.
My prayer this morning?
That He would deliver to your life what is best for you,
What He already knows you desperately need.
“But Zion said, ‘I don’t get it. God has left me.
My Master has forgotten I even exist.’
Can a mother forget the infant at her breast,
walk away from the baby she bore?
But even if mothers forget,
I’d never forget you—never.
Look, I’ve written your names on the backs of my hands.”