He Remembers Me

  I was recently watching a fictional army show on tv. There was some kind of crisis in the camp and everyone was getting urgent assignments from the commanding officer. The Chaplin asked “What can it do?” The commanding officer replied, “Pray.” The Chaplin moaned slightly with disappointment and said, “That’s all I ever get to do.”

  Hopefully you all are a lot better than I and have never felt this way about prayer. For me it always went like this, you get a fire to act; a passion to go and save the lost and dyeing in the world. You search frantically for an avenue in which to move and every door was shut. Then the command would come: Pray. Everyone tells you how important prayer is and as they speak you flash back to little league and your coach giving you the pep talk about how important the outfield positions are (even though no one can hit the ball that far!) And prayer becomes the thing you do, only when there is nothing else to do.

  I felt this way about prayer. I wasn’t good enough to play where the action was, so I got sent out to pray in outfield. Finally one day a bright idea came to me and I decided to ask the Lord to show me the truth about prayer. (For I’d run across several people who seemed to think the “outfield” was pretty exciting.)

  One morning after this request, I was praying and the eye opening revelation hit me. I was limited by my physical body on what I could see and where I could go, but my prayers weren’t. They could go anywhere and touch anything. They could touch orphans hidden in the dark corners of the world. They could stand up for one who couldn’t stand for herself. They could speak out for those who have no voice. These prayers could change all eternity for someone’s life. Suddenly the empty outfield turned into a battle field. I was no longer looking for fly balls; I was searching for the “one” who had no one to defend them. I was no longer poking my toes in the grass in boredom; I was digging my feet in as I stood over that child, fighting and pleading for their life.

  Because of prayer I have seen the dying, find eternal life. I have seen the forgotten find a forever home. And I have seen the “one” that no one sees, but is precious to the Father. Everyone says “God is a Father to the fatherless” That’s true, but He has chosen to do His work through us. So you are to be a Father to the fatherless. Even in prayer.

  I was recently holding a little orphan girl. She had beautiful big eyes and a smile that draws you over to see her. As I held her the weight of her reality sunk in. This vulnerable little baby has no one. No Father to protect her and defend her, no mother to pray over her and whisper in her ear how much Jesus loves her. No, I wasn’t in Africa. I wasn’t in China. I was in my living room. The millions of orphans on the other side of the world suddenly entered my home in this “one”. Slowly the Lord’s heart for Yapheh, filled my heart and pleaded with me: "This little life belongs to Jesus, who’s going to fight to see it so? I love this little girl, she is Mine, but she doesn’t have anyone so speak for her. Will you stand for her? Will you plead for her life? Will you? Will you: Pray?"

Things are not as they should be, oh the sorrows I’ve known, 

so much taken away from me, You might believe we are forgotten…

...but I’ve seen something that makes me hope... 

in the God who sings to every child, to every orphaned heart in the shadows, 

In the God who cherishes the fatherless as only a Father does, 

who will never leave,

 He remembers, He remembers me.