Intercessory Prayer, We Miss You!

This is just a line to let you know how things are since you've gone. It's not the same without you, nor will it ever be. Although our lives seem shallow and empty when you're not here, we've learned to make up for you in other ways. We've learned to live without you.

We now leap for joy, jig to the music, sing catchy choruses, and tap our feet in time to the rhythm of the drums. We use sticks, banners, black lights, and our sign teams do a tremendous job acting out recorded music. We've learned to worship without you.

The prayer rooms are mostly silent now. Those who do go there, for the most part, come away dry-eyed. A lot of praying now is chanting and singsong style. We pray memorized phrases that come automatically. Most of us don't even close our eyes anymore during prayer. We just walk and pray while we look around. We pray because it is required. No one prays until they break through anymore. We just pray until our ten minutes are up.

Family altars are almost unheard of now. You can't imagine how busy we are and how hectic our schedules have been. It's unbelievable. We get up in the morning and never stop till we go to bed at night. We do try to make it to most services and get some praying in during the service, but prayer at home is kind of out of the question. That may be another reason you haven't heard much from us.

The sad truth is you're not really needed anymore. You see, most of us have hospitalization insurance now. So now, there's no need to pray more than the few minutes it takes to drive to the emergency room. Also, we don't have to ask for our daily bread like we used to. We now have better jobs with good benefits and government programs to fall back on.

If we lse our jobs, there is always unemployment or welfare. If we retire or become disabled, social security now supplies our needs. So, you can see, we're doing okay.

Other things have filled the void in your absence. Sure we miss you. But we're getting over it some how. Actually, we're too busy to entertain you right now, even if you tried to come back. I hope you understand.

We are having revivals without you. It's not hard. The pastor fasts and prays, along with a couple others. Most of us try to get to church in time for the first song or two. We justify the fact that the number of new converts is down. Yes, there seems to be diminished conviction, less lasting victory, and fewer miracles, and many young people are backsliding.

We agree, however, that we are not at fault; it's just the times we're living in. It's like this everywhere.

As your friend, I'm writing this to you, knowing how much it must hurt you to have folks say they miss you, and yet in their material and intellectual progress they've weaned themselves away from the haunting memory of you.

What hurts, I know, is that we were children you personally raised. You were always there when we needed you. (But now we don't.) You taught us about faith. You taught us about miracles. You taught us about a move of God. You taught us about revival. You taught us about how to touch God. Thank you for that, but you see, this is a new day and we are trying to go to the next level. Our services are structured differently now.

Do you know that now when you are mentioned in church, everyone gets real quiet? They all feel guilty I'm sure. It's like they experience a momentary twinge of guilt while they consider their part in your disappearance. Once in awhile some even get misty-eyed when we talk about the old times you shared with us. But all that feeling vanished long with the pizza right after church.

No, Intercessory Prayer, your coming back really wouldn't work right now. We're too blessed. We're doing too well. We're comfortable. In your day, you served your purpose, but the sentiment of most today is that we can manage okay without you now. We've got better clothes, cars, homes, and prettier and bigger churches than ever.

By the way, do you remember all the folks of yesteryear coming into the sanctuary with red-rimmed eyes? Remember all-night prayer meetings? Remember the depth that was in worship? Remember when sinners couldn't sit in their pews any longer and would run to the altar? Remember when you could feel unity and brotherly love? When folks helped bear one another's burdens? When the saints didn't watch the clock? When they could hardly wait to enjoy the after service atmosphere, praying around the altar until the wee hours of the morning? Boy, those were the good old days. We call that "old school."

Well, it's pretty much all gone now. But you ought to see our new Hammond C-3, our drum set with a cage and everything. We use praise singers to help cover up the fact that our congregations don't sing like they used to. We let them do most of our worship for us.

You would be proud of our church buildings. Carpet on the floors. There are pews now instead of benches, and they are padded too. Our pastor has polish too. He doesn't preach long. We are more concerned now about sermon length than content. Win some, lose some.

Speaking of "lose some," we're losing a surprising percentage of our young people. An unbelievable number of marriages have gone on the rocks. Many lives have been in jeopardy. But that's to be expected I guess. Teenagers seem to be at war with their parents and want to dress more and more like the kids at school. Our youth meetings may not have much in the way of prayer, but we have great icebreakers, skits, and games.

I hope you're not offended. I don't mean for you to be. You'll always have a special place in my memory. You were kind and generous to me. You sure got me out of some hard times. I can't thank you enough! Still, this is a generation now that doesn't know you at all. Your coming would probably scare them.

So while we are trying to work out our feelings about you and see where you might fit into our plans in the future, you might try your luck someplace else.

Try Brazil, Ethiopia, or how about the Philippines? You might have better luck in third world countries. You might even luck out and find someone to talk to you in some little storefront on the other side of the tracks. Surely someone somewhere needs you.

We're terribly sorry, Intercessory Prayer, we miss you, but we really don't need you right now!



Article written by Martyn Ballestero Sr. and is published in the September 2008 issue of the Pentecostal Herald.