Worth More Than A Minute?

I've been grieved in my spirit over the past few years as I have watched my children grow older. One lacks spiritual vibrancy. Another seems to lack any life of the Spirit whatsoever. Sorrow pierces my soul in this matter.

That said, I found myself the recipient of both great comfort and great conviction in the 2nd chapter of "Hudson Taylor's Spiritual Secret" which I began to read recently.

Comfort came in the reminder that Hudson's spiritual life began at the age of seventeen. It's not clear what kind of child he was prior to that age, but apparently not one evidencing the life of Christ within. Hope! My children are many years younger than that. Perhaps they too will turn soon.

And how exciting and riveting to read of his his sister's entry that month in her prayer journal: she would pray daily for his salvation until it came. That very month it came!

But the real barn-buster came with his mother's role in the matter.

Many miles away, the mother was specially burdened that Saturday afternoon about her only son. Leaving her friends she went alone to plead with God for his salvation. Hour after hour passed while that mother was still upon her knees, until her heart flooded with a joyful assurance that her prayers were heard and answered.

The account of what happened that very afternoon in the heart of young Hudson, miles away from his mother and her desperate pleas before the throne of God, is enough to bring tears to the eyes of all but the hardest of hearts.

I found that passage, needless to say, greatly encouraging. I can have a role in my child's salvation! I cannot force it to happen, but God wants me to pray more about it! What an encouraging thought for a desperate man. I'm not quite so helpless in this matter as I have felt in recent months.

I left the book there to attend to some parental duties, but immediately the conviction began. And set in deep.

When have I ever prayed about anything for more than an hour? Ever? I'm not sure I have. Oh yes, I've reminded God of my concerns throughout the day on various serious matters. But uninterrupted prayer? I think the answer is.... never.

To be honest, I think most of my prayers for any one topic are, quite literally, not longer than a few seconds. Maybe a minute. It's a crushing thing to admit, but the time-span element and attention quality of my prayer life are, as they say, emblematic of the MTV generation.

Ironically, I decided to pen this blog as a challenge to myself to do just this for my children at least once a month. Are my children not worth an hour of solid prayer, once a month?

Ironically, I say, because it usually takes me an hour to get my thoughts down to my satisfaction. So I've now spent more time on this blog, today, than I have ever spent praying for a single child in one sitting. And I knew that would be true before I began to type.

So this blog had better earn its living fast, reminding me for years to come of a commitment I hope to keep for the rest of my life.

But even as I wrap this blog up, more conviction has come. Having just typed in the text myself, I'm now reminded that Hudson's mother excused herself from the presence of friends on that day she prayed several hours straight for the life of her son.

I have never left any fellowship of friends in order to spend time in prayer. I've declined engagements from time to time, I suppose. But I've never, so to speak, "left the party" so as to pray.

Oh, God! For a heart to know when this is the prescription you have made for my soul. How desperate my deafness, to never have heard this call. Give life to my ears, my Lord. They cannot hear.

Give life to my children, my Lord. They cannot hear either.