Praying in McDonalds

I got done with my Tuesday morning Bible study with my two little brothers this morning and decided to set up camp and work for awhile. It had all the fixin's for moderate productivity: a big table, annoying pay-as-you-go AT&T wifi (e.g. no internet distraction), and the cooling half of a medium mocha.

As I'm crunching away on a policy document, my iPhone gently turns down the music to inform me of an incoming call. My sister Kelli is on the phone. Slightly panicked and near tears, she tells me that a friend of hers, who I also happen to know through church, has been in a motorcycle accident. She just received the news from a second hand source who had little information but told her, "it doesn't look good."

A sinking feeling came over me. This acquaintance of ours lost his sixteen year old son in a terrible car accident not two years ago and he has surviving twin sons. I got the tingly sensation in my jaw and finger tips that accompanies the possibility of crushing tragedy. Not another member of that family, not so soon, not in such a similar way. Kelli, who is currently re-exploring the Faith right now, asked me pointedly, "Will you pray, Kyle?" I said I would and hung up the phone.

Two booths down from me sat another acquaintance of mine, talking with his wife. He had said hello to me on his way to his seat. He used to serve in a local church; they are Christians. I needed to pray, but for some reason, I didn't want to pray alone. Though I was mildly embarrassed to interrupt their conversation to ask them to pray for a situation that was unconfirmed but potentially devastating, I took off my head phones and walked over to their booth. They looked up politely and I told them the story, closing with, "Would you guys mind praying with me?" My friend said, "sure," slid over and let me sit down. We each prayed, not long, but enough. Part of my prayer, besides surrendering to the will of God, was that this information would be incorrect, that Kelli would have gotten an exaggerated version or a false report. In my heart, I was asking God to roll back time, to undo the deed–the same prayer I had prayed as a little boy after the reality of my mom's death sank in. Not knowing our friend's actual situation gave me ridiculous hope that maybe it wasn't too late yet, the nonsensical faith that wondered if things that may have already been done could be changed. We got to the amens, I thanked them and returned to my seat.

I then called Dave, our friend's pastor. I told him I didn't know much of the story or the actual severity of the accident, but that he should probably check it out. Though we didn't speak it, I could tell from his voice that we both understood what the worst case could mean for this family. He thanked me and hung up. I tried to go back to typing, wondering whether there was more I should do.

About ten minutes later, Dave called. What would be the news? He sounded happy. "He's alright," he reported. "He was in an accident, but besides a few stitches and possible surgery on his thumb, he's fine. He's headed home right now." Thank God.

Did God answer MY prayer? Did He answer ours? Did He really roll back time, undo the deed, bring our friend back from the dead? To say yes would be pretty self-centric of me; God is not rearranging fate on my behalf. The trouble with expecting God to answer a prayer is that there are many more vantage points than that of single petitioner; giving one person what he or she wants may mess up what God wants for everybody else. And yet, as I just read the other day, Jesus tells us that if we believe, we can cast mountains into the sea (heal bodies, steer motorcycles, ripple time?). I don't know what God was doing this morning in McDonald's, if anything. I could not disagree with someone who would say, "Your prayer just happened to line up with what had already happened." But, whatever the case, we prayed for something and it came true. Again, thank God.