The Art of Communion

"Mom? Please pray for me." With that, Joe closed the car door and disappeared behind the cold exterior of brick and vinyl. The desperation in his voice was easy to discern. Of course, I have my own sense of desperation at Joe's situation. To put it plainly, this world is no place for a boy like Joe. The sophisticated and oppressive culture that is his present reality is far more burdensome than I can even fathom.

It was my birthday today. But it was also business as usual, so a large part of my day was spent transporting Joe to appointments for special services and waiting for their conclusion so I could return him to his group home. I think he felt bad that I was playing taxi driver on my special day. There were no meltdowns or outbursts that often characterize our time together. Just the whimper of an anguished soul, requesting that I call his name out to the Father. You can bet that I have, am, and will be doing that – with everything that is in me. Yet the earnest tone in his voice also reminded me that I cherish others’ prayers on his and our behalf as we journey through this living death that is so draining.

There was a time I didn’t understand why or how one would appeal to what I perceived to be an infinite and distant God on behalf of anyone or anything. Honestly, it seemed a religious practice that lacked authentic purpose (like God really needed us to help push Him into appropriate action?). I had no inclination of the privilege or power that intercession offered, at least not until I read the story of a total stranger, Scott O’Grady. Captain O’Grady was an Air Force pilot shot down by enemy aircraft in a hostile territory. He spent six days evading capture while subsisting on leaves, grass and a precious few ants until his eventual rescue. Captain O’Grady’s faith became increasingly important to him as he came face to face with the reality of his physical limitations. As his would-be captors came perilously close to discovering him, O’Grady recalled the quickening of his faith even as he became acutely aware of his grave sense of loneliness. Struggling to survive in a hostile territory, the Father reminded O’Grady of the people that were praying for him. In a flash of revelation, he understood that those prayers - from loved ones as well as from perfect strangers – weren’t suggestions to set a weak-minded god on course. They were an intentional faith based act enabling those Believers to join him there in that very place. It was his spiritual eyes that illuminated not only God’s presence, but also their presence with him. This revelation was a great source of comfort for him. It also provided for me comfort as well, as I made the leap of understanding (to the degree that my limited abilities can) the impact of our joining in the suffering and supplications of others. We were created to participate and revel in community.

Whether our prayers be simple or whether we labor as full-fledged intercessors, the art of true communion involves more than words and strong feelings. I was reminded of this when I recently encountered an elderly man whom I barely knew, at the grocery the other day. With little knowledge of anything about me or my life, he proceeded to say I should be ashamed of myself for what he determined to be a significant flaw in the way I was living out my faith. I felt disappointed that a near stranger would judge so harshly something he knew nothing about. I also felt an unsettling sense of disjointedness. This man’s actions, though his intentions were probably good, were rude and uncalled for. And even though this encounter doesn’t fit our normal perception of “prayer,” this Believing man was literally speaking a perceived “truth” about me in the presence of God. If prayer is considered a means of communication, a place where Believers ask questions, share emotions and state feelings, then I fear I had a front row seat to this man’s flawed prayer life and it was no taxi to paradise!

There’s nothing more offensive to fellowship than the tendency to assume the human heart and mind can ascertain others’ (or our own for that matter) needs and standing before God. Well-intentioned judgments fall woefully short of hearts communing in the fellowship of faith. We’ve probably all been at the giving and receiving ends of such disjointedness. True prayer and intercession come about only as we seek God’s heart on matters in earnest. The process of acquiescing to the All-Knowing One brings healing, humility and transforming power to us first, which then propels us into new and powerful ways of loving others. We're empowered to live beyond our means. To go places we wouldn't otherwise be able to go. To love beyond our fleshly capabilities.

I find it quite satisfying that Scripture reveals Christ Himself as an Intercessor. As he prepared to submit to the crucifixion, He prayed for every Believer. Not just those who were present. Not just those populating planet Earth at that moment. His prayer reached into time and stepped into every reality any of us will ever face . . . which means He’s there, waiting for us and for those who join with us in spirit and truth within our present realities. More than anything, I believe that’s what Joe longs to know. Beneath layers of worldly distraction and pain, I believe that’s what we all long to experientially know. That we abide in a living and active community inhabited by a faithful God and a people willing to commit their hearts and minds to a transforming and liberating glory.