In his third epistle, John prays what has to be the most frightening prayer in the Bible.  Beloved I pray that in all things you may prosper and be in health, even as your soul prospers, v2. 
            Have you ever wondered what might happen if God suddenly answered that prayer—that your body and your economic life may be as healthy as your soul?  Those of us who prosper financially, might suddenly be living a hand to mouth existence, while others who can barely make ends meet might find their bank accounts overflowing.  Are we more concerned with our IRAs, annuities, and money market accounts than with the unfathomable riches of Christ, Eph 3:8?  What was it Jesus called the rich man who was more concerned with his physical wealth than his spiritual wealth?  You fool!  This night is your soul required of you, and all the things you have prepared, whose will they be then?  So is he who lays up treasure for himself but is not rich toward God.  Luke 12:20,21
           But what about the physical health angle of that prayer?  Some of us who are fat and sassy might instantly become pale and emaciated.  Some of us might even fall over dead!  But there might be others, frail and chronically ill, who suddenly become as hale and hearty as the great athletes of the world.
            If we want to be able to pray John’s prayer, we need to get our souls in shape.  Do they get the proper nourishment or do they fast several days a week?  Do our souls have to be force-fed?  Do we “exercise our senses” every day, “discerning between good and evil,” or do we sit like couch potatoes, taking in with a glazed look everything the world has to offer?  Are we willing to take our medicine when we need it, or do we deny our faults and blame everyone else as if that will make them go away?
            If a righteous man stands up Sunday morning and prays this prayer fervently—that everyone there will suddenly be as prosperous in wealth and healthy in body as they are in soul--will we jump up and beg him to stop because we know the results of the effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man, James 5:16? 
             Think about it; it might change your life.
 
For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father from whom every family in heaven and in earth is named, that he should grant you according to the riches of his glory that you may be strengthened with power through his Spirit in the inner man, that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, to the end that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be strong to apprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge that you may be filled unto all the fullness of God.  Eph 3:14-19
 
Dene Ward
 

I make a shopping list every week.  When you live thirty miles from town and the price of gas has risen so high, you learn to plan.  Running up to the store for a forgotten item is not in the works.
             I know what I am going to cook each night that week, what I need for each dish, what is missing from the staples in the pantry, and what is on sale where before I leave the house.  Keith and I also spend a few minutes the evening before trying to think of every other piece of business I can take care of in the same trip.  Used to be I had to make as many stops as the grocery store, the pharmacy, the dry cleaners, the bank, the discount store, the music store, and the office supply store, then fit the women’s Bible study in there somewhere, making certain I accomplished everything in time to be home, unloaded, dinner either in the oven or the crockpot or everything set out for a quick fix meal, and then the studio set up and ready for music students by 2:30 for four hours of instruction.
            I learned to use one of the reply envelopes supplied by all the credit card companies who want us to go into debt up to our ears.  I kept a stack in my kitchen drawer and each week listed all my stops, numbered for time and gas efficiency, and what I needed to do or pick up at each stop on the outside of the envelope.  Inside I put coupons and claim tickets.  When I came home those had been replaced with receipts and new claim tickets, depending upon what was happening that week.  I seldom forgot anything thanks to my “system.”
            The other day as I was talking to God, I realized that I had strayed into my shopping list format.  Very matter-of-factly I was telling Him what I needed when and how I would like it served.  I reminded myself of Captain Picard standing in front of the replicator in his ready room barking out, “Tea—Earl Gray—hot!”  Suddenly I remembered to Whom I was talking and shivered a little.  What in the world was I thinking? 
            God is not a grocery store.  He is not a waiter at the restaurant waiting for me to make my order, giving Him extra directions so it will be exactly what I want—pastrami on rye, pressed, extra mustard, hold the mayo, slaw on the side.  Yet isn’t that exactly how we treat Him sometimes?  Yes, I can tell Him all my desires; in fact, He expects me to do that, and He wants to satisfy me, His child.  But when I start expecting Him to parcel it out in only the way I want it, as if I can send it back with a reprimand if it doesn’t suit me, I have overstepped the bounds.
            We have all seen children make their lists for birthdays and for Christmas, but don’t we all think better of the children who have learned that wanting something doesn’t mean they ought to have it, that wanting for others is even better than wanting for themselves, and that they should be grateful for whatever they receive, not complain about it. 
            My parents taught me to never greet a guest, especially a grandparent or favorite aunt or uncle with, “What did you bring me?” 
            “They might think that is the only reason you want to see them, and that would hurt their feelings,” it was explained to me.  I think I need to relearn that lesson about God. 
 
And at the evening oblation I arose up from my humiliation, even with my garment and my robe rent; and I fell upon my knees and spread out my hands unto Jehovah my God, and I said, Oh my God, I am ashamed and blush to lift up my face to you my God; for our iniquities are increased over our head, and our guiltiness is grown up unto the heavens, Ezra 9:5,6.
 
Dene Ward

If you have been with me awhile, you know I have been teaching a Psalms class with lessons I compiled after a long, hard summer of study.  {You can read snippets from those lessons in the category “Psalms” on the right sidebar.}  I am still reading books about the Psalms and the last couple have brought a new idea my way that I would like to share.
            Of course, the early church, the apostolic church, as scholars often call the first century Christians, sang the Psalms.  The practice came from the Jewish heritage of the first congregations of Christians in Judea.  In fact, one of the books I read said this:  “…in the English-speaking world use of the psalms has often languished as hymns and worship songs with catchy tunes have tended to displace the psalms…This trend would have appalled the apostolic church…one may hope this modern failure to appreciate the psalms…to be a blip,” Gordon J. Wenham, The Psalms as Torah.  I find myself agreeing with Mr. Wenham.
           But here is something I had not realized:  The Psalms were often prayed by the early church and that practice lasted for centuries.  Mr. Wenham devotes a whole chapter to the affect that praying the Psalms would have on us if we did it.  Try this today.  Read the following verses from various psalms out loud.  All right, wait until you are alone if you want to, but don’t forget to do it.

I said, “I will guard my ways, that I may not sin with my tongue; I will guard my mouth with a muzzle, so long as the wicked are in my presence,”  Ps 39:1

I will give thanks to the LORD with my whole heart; I will recount all of your wonderful deeds. I will be glad and exult in you; I will sing praise to your name, O Most High, Ps 9:1-2.

I will pay my vows to the LORD in the presence of all his people, in the courts of the house of the LORD, in your midst, O Jerusalem. Praise the LORD! Ps 116:18-19.

I acknowledged my sin to you, and I did not cover my iniquity; I said, “I will confess my transgressions to the LORD,” and you forgave the iniquity of my sin. — Selah.  Therefore let everyone who is godly offer prayer to you at a time when you may be found; surely in the rush of great waters, they shall not reach him. You are a hiding place for me; you preserve me from trouble; you surround me with shouts of deliverance. — Selah Ps 32:5-7.

I will ponder the way that is blameless. Oh when will you come to me? I will walk with integrity of heart within my house; I will not set before my eyes anything that is worthless. I hate the work of those who fall away; it shall not cling to me. ​A perverse heart shall be far from me; I will know nothing of evil. Whoever slanders his neighbor secretly I will destroy. Whoever has a haughty look and an arrogant heart I will not endure. I will look with favor on the faithful in the land, that they may dwell with me; he who walks in the way that is blameless shall minister to me. No one who practices deceit shall dwell in my house; no one who utters lies shall continue before my eyes, Ps 101:2-7.

            That should be enough for you to get the point.  Many of the psalms are written in first person.  When you pray it, you are praying for the same things the psalmist prayed for, and allowing the psalmist’s attitude to become your own.  You cannot pray these things without it affecting how you live—unless you are a hypocrite. 
          But shouldn’t we read all scripture that way?  Shouldn’t we read the epistles in such a way that we are praying to be what we are told to be, to speak as we are told to speak, to live as we are told to live?  Shouldn’t every recitation of a memory verse be a phrase we are willing to live by?  Yet how often do we quote what we have learned by rote and then continue to live as we always have, never taking to heart the words that have just left our lips?
           Maybe if you start with these few verses from the Psalms today you can train yourself to pray the prayers of the saints gone by instead of the selfish carnal prayers we usually pray—for physical blessings and physical convenience and physical health--and maybe, just maybe, we can start to be the people we talk about being every time we read our Bibles.
 
Dene Ward

Today is our 47th anniversary.  This one seemed appropriate.  Hope you don't mind a rerun.

Nearly forty-six years ago, shortly after Keith and I became engaged, he took me to the premier restaurant in Tampa, Bern’s.  Bern’s is the kind of restaurant where your waiter is often dressed better than you are, and you hope your actions do not give you away as someone who is totally out of his element.  We splurged away a good chunk of Keith’s weekly salary on a chateaubriand for two--$40, counting beverages, dessert, tax, and tip.  In that day, gas had just risen to 65 cents a gallon, and $35 worth of groceries fed a family of four for a week.
            Our waiter, Tony, was an older gentleman with an accent, gray hair, and Old World manners as charming as the fairy tale Prince.  At Bern’s, diners are seated in various rooms, some larger than others.  Ours was small, mostly tables for two, and the three other couples there that night were well-spaced for privacy.  Tony was assigned to us and only one other couple. 
            After taking our order, he always brought each course precisely on time as we finished the one before it.  When it came time for the steak, he asked if Keith would like to carve it.  We had been holding hands across the table and let go at that question.  Immediately, Tony protested.  “No, no, no,” he said, putting our hands back together. “Tony will carve.”
            After dinner we had coffee and once, when I put down the half empty china cup at my right elbow and looked up to talk with Keith, I turned back a moment later to a full one.  I had never heard Tony even approach the table, much less refill the cup.  When I expressed amazement, Keith told me, “He’s been standing in that back corner keeping an eye on his two tables the whole time.”  Needless to say, Tony got an excellent tip, and we still remember him fondly to this day.
            I was studying Acts 2:42 the other day and made a discovery that reminded me of Tony.  And they continued steadfastly in the apostles’ teaching, and fellowship, breaking of bread and in prayers, Acts 2:42.  Since prayer was the actual subject of my study, I concentrated on that particular item.  What did it mean, I wondered, to “continue in prayer?”
            “Continue” is the same Greek word translated “wait on” in Mark 3:9, and he spoke to his disciples that a little boat should wait on him because of the crowd, lest they should throng him.  The multitude was pressing in on Jesus, and he wanted a boat handy should he need it, as he did at another time, teaching from the water while the crowd stood on the shore. 
            What really brought Tony to mind, though, was the use of this word in Acts 10:7, And when the angel… had departed, [Cornelius] called two of his household servants and a devout soldier of those who waited on him continuously.  Like Tony, those men stood to the side just in case they were needed.  And they must have been needed fairly often, or they would not have been so alert and close by.  That is how prayer is supposed to be.
            Is that how we treat this gift?  Is it something we keep handy and use at the drop of a hat, should some problem come our way?  God meant prayer to be there for us continuously.  Not that we pray continuously, but that at any moment we may use that gift; that we talk to him through the day, recognize our dependence upon him in all things and the incredible benefits of speaking to him.  Like Tony he will be there waiting for anything we need, sometimes even before we express that need. 
            For our 30th anniversary in 2004, our children gave us a gift certificate to Bern’s, the first time we had ever been back.  It was another memorable experience, but of course, Tony is no longer there.  But unlike Tony, God is still there and always will be.  
            Keep prayer handy, and use it often.  Don’t wait for some bedtime ritual if the need should arise in the middle of the day.  God wants to help us, and he will, if we but ask.
 
Out of my distress I called upon Jehovah; Jehovah answered me and set me in a large place. Jehovah is on my side; I will not fear;  What can man do unto me?  Psa 118: 5,6.
 
Dene Ward

It was a rainy winter, and then a rainy spring.  The summer isn't such a problem because the subtropical sun boils the water out of the ground fairly quickly in spite of constant afternoon thunderstorms.  But on cool days, even with much lower humidity than summer, puddles and boggy ground last much longer.  Rivers and creeks overflow.  Sometimes country roads become impassable.  Farmers lament their inability to get into the fields where there is standing water here and there and miry bogs everywhere else, and know that even if they could plant, the seed would rot in the saturated soil instead of germinating.  And all that water can breed mosquitoes almost overnight.
            So on a weekend when we had already measured over three inches of rain and a 90% chance of "heavy rain" was predicted for two more days, we were a little concerned.  We prayed hard for God to send us clear skies and no more rain.  That is exactly what He did.  The puddles dried fairly quickly, and the dark, wet ground is beginning to look like pale gray Florida sand again. 
            All of that made me think of the poor old weatherman.  For a week he had predicted heavy rains those two days, and he turned out wrong.  Was he wrong because his science was wrong?  No, he was wrong because he is not the one in control.  We make fun of him all the time—"He never gets it right"—which is probably not accurate in itself.  He does get it right fairly often.  But think of what he has going against him.  Think of all the Christians out there praying that he will be wrong, and a Heavenly Father who listens to His children and as often as possible, does what they ask.  The weatherman doesn't stand a chance.  That he gets anything right is a notable thing, and once again only due to a Father who has ordered the world to run in a certain way, on a certain timetable of seasons, fronts, and heat waves.
            Or do we believe that?  I think I have some brothers and sisters who don't.   Then why do you pray at all, may I ask?  Maybe we don't get what we ask for because we don't truly believe it is even possible to receive it.
            Who do you believe?  God or the poor, old weatherman?
 
And this is the confidence that we have toward him, that if we ask anything according to his will he hears us. And if we know that he hears us in whatever we ask, we know that we have the requests that we have asked of him (1John 5:14-15).
 
Dene Ward

At 6:03 pm CDT on May 31, 2013, a wedge tornado developed just south of El Reno, Oklahoma, and within a half hour grew to be the widest tornado ever measured at 2.6 miles across, with the damage swath spreading another mile further out.   The highest speeds recorded were 302 mph, and the fastest the storm traveled over land was 50 mph.  It dissipated at 6:42 pm CDT.  Eight people had been killed, all of them in vehicles, some trying to wait it out as it passed by, and three who were storm researchers whose white Chevy Cobalt was overtaken before they could get away.  I cannot even imagine being so close to a storm like that on purpose!  Once, about 40 years ago, we were closer than I ever want to be again, and it wasn't even that big.
          We awoke that Saturday morning to ominous gray skies and strong winds.  The forecast for the day made it dangerous to be out, so we called those we had invited for a singing that afternoon and canceled.  Instead of walking to the paper box, about a quarter mile down our driveway, Keith drove the car, and as huge, plopping raindrops began falling, parked it next to the front door when he returned so he would not get too wet.
            A few minutes later, he looked out the window by the table where he sat reading the paper and sipping a cup of coffee.  Something in his manner made me look too, but I didn’t see anything. 
            “Get the boys,” he said very quietly, “and go crouch down in the middle of the house.  Cover your faces.”  I did exactly as he said, unquestioningly.  He grew up in the Arkansas mountains, and he knew about things I had no experience with.  A few minutes later it was all over with.  What “all” was, I still did not realize.  The power had gone out, but we were still intact. 
            We stepped out of the house, and the hay barn across the field no longer had a roof.  Several water oaks and wild cherry trees were down on the long driveway to the highway.  A large chinaberry had fallen right where the car had originally been parked before he decided to drive for the paper instead of walking.  It would have been flattened if he had parked it there again.
            Then we edged around the corner of the house on our bedroom side, and saw the worst of it.  A huge live oak had split.  Half had fallen on the power lines, but the line was still alive, wiggling and sparking on the ground.  The other half, its roots mostly out of the ground, leaned right over our bedroom.  We had no idea how long it would hold before it too fell and demolished our house.
            We called the power company immediately and they rushed out to take care of the live wire, but they had too many other calls to send someone to handle the tilting tree.  We would have to wait our turn.  Word gradually spread down the highway, and within an hour, two men who worked timber drove up with cables and chainsaws, and those two men, who were complete strangers to us, took the tree down safely and with no damage.  We thanked them profusely.  “That’s what neighbors are for,” they said, and off they went.
            A preacher friend who had been invited to the sing never got the message to cancel.  He showed up amid the raucous roar of chainsaws, and heard the whole story.  It impressed him enough to include it in a lesson on prayer and providence.  The people in the audience were not impressed.  Afterward they took him aside and scolded him.  “God does not act in the world today,” they told him.  He was astounded, and so were we.
            When we become so intent on exposing false doctrine that we blatantly ignore the truth, swinging the pendulum so far back that we miss it entirely, something is wrong with our perspective.  If God had no hand in what happened that day, then why do we bother to pray at all?  Do we not believe James? 
            “The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much,” 5:16. 
            Do we not believe the book of Esther or the last 14 chapters of Genesis?  “God sent me,” Joseph told his brothers who had thought it was all their idea, and God continued to “send” Joseph through Potiphar’s wife, the baker and butler, and eventually Pharaoh himself.
            God spent much of the prophets talking about how He would work through the enemies of Israel.  “Ho Assyrian! The rod of my anger!  The staff of my fury is in his hand,” Isa 10:5.  God sent those Assyrians to punish Israel, just as certainly as He sent those two lumberjacks to save my home.  He did it because of the prayers I started the moment I saw that look in my husband’s eye, the moment I crouched on the floor trying to shield my little boys with my own body, the moment we saw that tree clinging to the pitifully few clods of dirt left on its roots.
            I will never believe otherwise.  In fact, why do we bother if we don’t believe it?
 
The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. He fulfills the desire of those who fear him; he also hears their cry and saves them. Psalms 145:18-19
 
Dene Ward

If you are under 50, this will take some explaining.
            Back in the "olden days," as my boys used to call them, you only got a couple, or maybe three channels on your television set—usually one each of the Big Three national networks back then.  And none of this hour long set up and downloading and hooking up to satellite dishes or cables.  You bought the thing, you took it home, you plugged it in, turned it on, and, voila! you could watch TV.
            One more thing you had to do was unfold the antenna, usually two metal rods, telescoped inside themselves.  You pulled out each rod to the desired length, then moved them around until the picture cleared up.  They usually wound up in some sort of V, which accounts for the name you might have heard your parents or grandparents use, "rabbit ears."  Depending upon how far away you were from the station, or in which direction it lay, your antenna might look more like an L than a V, or one side might be much shorter than the other.  Once you figured it out, you just remembered that ABC was a perfect V, CBS was an L that looked like nine o'clock, and NBC was an almost perfect straight line—or whatever configuration yours needed to get each channel.
            Everywhere we lived we got all three channels, but one was always a little snowy.  Sometimes it had ghost images.  Sometimes the horizontal and vertical holds wouldn't "hold."  In fact, we had one that we had to whack on the top to get the vertical hold to work.  And here is where the tin foil comes in.  Sometimes you had to take a square of aluminum foil (I have no idea why we all called it "tin foil") and wrap it around one arm of the antenna, creating a shiny silver flag on one end.  Sometimes it took one on each arm of the antenna.  And usually, when the person putting it on walked up to the TV, the picture improved so dramatically that we all shouted, "Stop!  Don't move!"  But of course, we couldn't expect anyone to stand perfectly still for the entire program, especially if his arms were halfway up ready to wrap the foil flag in place, and most especially if he couldn't watch the show himself during that time.
            I am sure that sounds incredibly primitive to many of you younger folks.  I am told that the reason the foil flags worked was that they increased the bandwidth of the antenna and the aperture so you could receive more of the incoming radiation.  Sounds like so much gobbledy-gook to me, but it did work.  Which leads us to today's lesson.
            Upon occasion, some have asked me if saying a prayer silently really counts.  If you will check out the 57th and 59th psalms you will see that they are described as "Maskils," and were prayed when David was hiding from Saul in a cave.  While most of those Hebrew designations for specific psalms are unknown, some scholars will make what amounts to "educated guesses."  C. H. Bullock suggests that "maskil" might refer to "silent prayers."  Most of the time Jews prayed aloud—it was the custom.  But at least once, when David was hiding in the back of a cave, Saul was sleeping in the front of the same cave.  Praying aloud might have defeated its purpose!
            When we try to lay restrictions upon prayers, our stance, their wording, and their occasion, I wonder if we aren't being a little like people trying to put tin foil on antennas.  We keep thinking we can make the reception better.  God doesn't need tin foil flags on your prayers to hear them.  His end of the matter works just fine.  It's more a matter of what you need on your end--a receptive soul, a humble spirit, a penitent heart.  It might come at a time when praying aloud would be inappropriate or simply impossible.  You don't have to worry.  He can hear those prayers just fine.  No snow.  No ghost images.  No problems with vertical holds or horizontal holds.  Just a crystal clear picture of a Father who loves you and a Lord who died for you, two Beings who want to hear from you every chance they get.  If David can pray silently, crouched in the back of a dark, dank cave, trying his best to breathe quietly and stay absolutely still, it seems to me that God is not nearly as picky as some of my brethren are.
            Just pray, folks, silently or aloud, standing or lying, in whatever words your heart needs to say.  I guarantee you won't need a box of tin foil to be heard.
 
 And it shall be said, “Build up, build up, prepare the way, remove every obstruction from my people's way.” For thus says the One who is high and lifted up, who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: “I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly, and to revive the heart of the contrite (Isa 57:14-15).
 
Dene Ward
 

We went a long time before we finally gave in and bought a cell phone.  It was an expense we did not need, and an aggravation we did not want.  I am not the servant of my phone and will not allow it to have me running at its beck and call!  But finally the phone companies took down most of the phone booths I had used when there was an emergency or I just needed to make some unexpected last minute arrangements.  I had to have a phone for those things. 
            It still isn’t the cure for everything, especially where I live.  While I may be one of the only people in the state of Florida to actually use her cell phone for emergencies only, when I need to use it, I really need to use it.  Then it becomes more than a little aggravating to get only one or two bars or worse, the big red X—no service.  Wherever that tower is, it is to the southwest, and I have spent a lot of time wandering around in my southern field trying to turn that red X into at least three bars so I will hear more than static and be less likely dropped. 
            Once I was meandering with such rapt attention on that tiny little screen that when I finally got my three bars and stood stock still so I wouldn’t lose them, I found myself jumping around a moment later, covered in fire ants.  The only place I could get reception was in an ant bed!
            But cell towers do not matter when you need the Lord.  Whenever His children need Him, he is just a word or a thought away.  You don’t even have to dial, and you certainly don’t have to wander around outside in the heat or cold or rain trying to get a signal.  “Draw near to God and He will draw near to you,” James tells us (4:8).  Indeed when I looked up the word in a concordance, I discovered that the only reason God is ever “far” from us is because we have gone far from Him (Isa 29:13; 33:13;  46:12; etc.).
            The next time you pull out that little monstrosity, remind yourself how blessed you really are.  You have a Father in Heaven who will answer your call no matter how many bars your spirit has left within you.  He will hear you, even if you only have strength left to whisper.
 
Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need, Heb 4:16.
 
Dene Ward

Most of us know the story of Hannah who asked God for a son and promised to give him back.  She certainly made an amazing vow and an astounding sacrifice I can scarcely understand.  But do we consider her many examples in prayer?
            Hannah was the second wife of a man of Ephraim, a Levite (1 Chron 6:33-38) named Elkanah.  The story reminds me a bit of Leah and Rachel, except that Hannah  and Peninnah were not sisters, and Hannah, the favored wife, was far more righteous and God-fearing than Rachel, who stole her father’s household gods (Gen 31:19) and nagged Jacob to death about her inability to conceive as if it were his fault (Gen 30:1,2).  Going to God was Rachel’s last resort, after first badgering Jacob, then offering her handmaid (Gen 30:3) and finally using mandrakes (Gen 30:14), the aphrodisiac of the day.  You should take a few minutes sometime and read the meanings of her children’s names (by her handmaid) if you want a flavor of her mindset, and compare them with the names of Leah’s children.  Then of course, there was Joseph.  When God answered her prayer for her own child, she named him, “Give me another one.”  Look at the marvelous contrast of Hannah, who after asking for a child and receiving him, gave him up to God, with no promise that she would ever have another.
            Hannah shows us what prayer is supposed to be—not some halfhearted muttering of ritual phrases, but a “pouring out of the soul” 1 Sam 1:15.  She prayed so fervently that Eli, watching her, thought she was drunk.  As she told Eli, “Out of the abundance of my complaint and my provocation have I spoken” v 16.  Her prayer life was such that her relationship with Jehovah gave her the confidence to tell him exactly how she felt, in the plainest of speech, evidently.  You do not speak to someone that way unless you have spent plenty of time with him and know him intimately.  Are we that close to God?
            She also teaches us what prayer should do for us.  Look at the contrast between v 10 and v 18.  Before her prayer “she was in bitterness of soul…and wept sore.”  Afterward, she “went her way and did eat, and her countenance was no more sad.” 
            Of course, Hannah had the reassurances of a priest and judge that God would give her what she had prayed for, but don’t we have the assurance of the Holy Spirit through the word He gave that God listens and answers our prayers?  Shouldn’t we exhibit some measure of ease after our prayers?      In whom do we have our faith?  If the doctors say it is hopeless, do we pray anyway?  Do we carry our umbrellas, even though the weatherman says, “No rain in sight?”  Do we pray on and on and on, even when it seems that what we ask will never come to pass?  God does not run by a timetable like we do.  Hannah had the faith that says, “It’s in God’s hands now,” and she was able to get on with her life.  Life does go on, no matter which answer we get, and God expects us to continue to serve Him with a “thy will be done” attitude.
          “The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much,” James tells us in 5:16.  Hannah shows us it works for righteous women as well.  Can people tell by our lives that we believe it?
 
Hear my cry, O God; attend unto my prayer.  From the end of the earth will I call unto you, when my heart is overwhelmed; lead me to the rock that is higher than I.  For you have been a refuge to me, a strong tower from the enemy.  I will dwell in your tabernacle forever.  I will take refuge in the covert of your wings.  Psa 61:1-4
 
Dene Ward