The Time to Pray
For Valentine’s Day this year I got the flu. The onsets of the flu symptoms were quick and sudden. One moment I was at work and within hours I was a prisoner of my bed, shivering and vacillating between freezing cold and the sweats of a fever.
The body pain was so intense and encompassing that after a few days I could not remember a time before the pain. That is what pain does to you it wakes you up; it makes time alive. During this time I contemplated my life and read on the internet about Stoneman Douglass High School Massacre.
I cried. I was awestruck by the bravery of children who reared by my apathetic generation had found a way to rise above the sins of our conformity. Time had conscripted these Florida children into a war with a darkness that encroached and crept into all the crevices of our lives; no place was safe from the darkness. Time had taken the “grief of life” that had imprisoned my generation into victimhood, helplessness and silence and had taken this generation and propelled them to mobilize, to act and speak out.
Time bothered me. How quickly our lives could change through illness or tragedy. How many people have died this year from the flu? I got sick with the flu and God spared me but what of the people who experienced the same quick onset of symptoms I experienced and then through the passage of time died?
Time bothered me as I contemplated the horror of 6 minutes in Florida; I was stuck on 6 minutes. 6 minutes before the massacre; 6 minutes during and 6 minutes after the enemy stole lives; the stark contrast of before and after, before death embraced the innocent and the emptiness of after. If this nightmare were a movie, I could freeze the movie and not play the whole thing because I know what happens in those 6 minutes.
But time is not a movie. Time moves forward without apologies, it moves forward. Time changed lives and turned Children into warriors fighting darkness; while the adults murmur in their sleep frozen in time.
Time bothered me that it moves forward; time does not wait me for me to wake up and arise from my sleepy time and join our children on the blood soaked battleground.
Time does not wait for me to re-man my post and cry out into the darkness; and speak God’s truth into the air.
Time does not wait for me to remember that we cannot fail our children in praying for them; for all of them. They are our responsibility whether we
birthed them or not, we owe them time on our knees praying for them; we owe them our time.
The time to pray is now.
The time to pray is now.
The time to pray is now…
May God cover every child, every school and every family with the precious blood of Jesus in Jesus name, Amen.