Kneeling in the Need of Prayer

Last week, I received the following note, from a woman in our congregation, via e-mail. With the sender’s permission, I am sharing it with you. It is an inspiring tale of the prompting—and filling, I’d say—of the Holy Spirit. She writes:

“As you were closing a sermon a few weeks ago, you were encouraging listeners to pray at the altar [what I usually refer to as ‘kneeling benches’—you know, the padded kneelers that stretch across the front of our Madison Park Main Auditorium]. In fact, you made the statement, ‘God is here.’ I almost laughed.

“God is everywhere, isn’t He? That is the exact reason I have never prayed at the altar. What difference could it possibly make where I pray? I pray when I’m driving to work in the morning, numerous times throughout the day, and before I go to sleep.

“During the very week you made the statement, I had a crisis. You’ve heard of a dark night of the soul. I had a dark week of the soul. No one could help me. Everyone I knew had advice. All the advice was conflicting. It was not helping. It only made things worse.

“The next Sunday morning you were traveling [I was speaking at a Church of God Convention in Missouri on August 12]. I went to the altar for the first time. I went to the side where I could pray alone [we always reserve the kneeling benches on the south side of the platform—on the left side, as you look forward from the back of the room—for ‘private, personal prayer’]. Frankly, my expectations were low. I had already told God everything. I was waiting.

“There was a man to my right crying, audibly. There were two women on my left. Please understand that I am not an emotional person. I might even be a little low on sensitivity. People crying in public, even if it is at an altar, is uncomfortable for me. I had no way of knowing that what would happen next would change my life.

“The moment I knelt, I felt a presence. Even the air seemed heavy and warm. I had to work a little harder to breath. It wasn’t unpleasant, just clearly different, altered, or out of the ordinary. I began to pray. Everything I had planned to say was gone from my mind. The dialog was unrehearsed and raw.

“The root of the ‘problem’ or crisis poured out. I could feel ‘His’ presence. I didn’t know if it was the presence of God, Jesus, or the Holy Spirit. It’s all so confusing. It didn’t matter. It was the presence of Comfort, Joy, Peace, Help.

“There was so much to say. I could hear people entering the sanctuary behind me for the next service. I needed to hurry! I didn’t want to hurry. I felt I was praying for the first time in my life.

“Over the next twenty-four hours, I experienced a miraculous answer to my crisis. Everyone who had been aware of the crisis witnessed the miracle. The answer was evident and unexplainable and so com-pletely over-the-top that even non-believing wit-nesses were amazed.

“On Monday afternoon, someone told me that there was ‘open prayer’ at the church. [The Main Auditorium is reserved for prayer each Monday evening, beginning at 5:30pm.] I couldn’t wait to go. Once I parked my car, I practically ran inside. There was just one other person there. I chose the very end spot at the altar. I didn’t want to bother anyone else.

“This time I did not feel the ‘heavy’ presence. I began to pray. At first it was awkward. My thoughts were scattered and dialog seemed forced. Within ten minutes my mind began to feel focused and dialog became authentic. I talked and I talked and I talked. I poured out every fear, dream, hope, secret, failing, unbelief, goal, and disappointment. I was astonished when I could feel my soul worship-ping. It was almost automatic and I was along for the glorious ride. I began to tear up and then to sob. I have never sobbed.

“I experienced worship for the first time. My mind, heart, and soul were shouting out how magnificent it was to be in the presence of God. The thoughts of exultation went on and on. I felt witness to them. The thoughts could not have come from me. I was changed forever. I was in the presence of God!

“I was completely unaware of anyone else around me. Anyone who would have been watch-ing and hearing my sobs would have thought I was mourning a great loss, when, in fact, I was joyfully worshipping.

“Every Sunday and Monday since, I have been at the altar. You were right. He is there! I wish every person who walked into our church could experience His presence.”

Me, too. You can reach for the same. This Sunday. And Monday, too. At Madison Park.