I like to pray.

I like to pray for that girl passing me on the street with earbuds shoved in and eyes cast down to the concrete, looking like she's carrying the world on her shoulders.

I like to pray in bars on Sixth Street, not that the people in them will "be safe" or stop drinking, but that they will know the full joy and, well, drunkenness, that comes from living in the Spirit.

I like to touch my computer screen and pray healing over my friends who post about their physical, emotional, and spiritual pain.

I like to pray for my future husband. I don't know if he's even out there, but I still pray blessing and guidance and fulfillment over him, trusting that Jesus will at least grant that to someone.

I like to pray as I kayak on Town Lake, thanking God for afro-ducks and honking geese and overly defensive swans, because they add a lot of joy and humor to my life.

I like to pray as I'm climbing rocks that Father will show me where to put my feet, because after all he knows every little groove in that rock and how it's been worn away by the wind and water (and maybe even by feet like mine).

I like to touch maps and pray for other nations, and for my friends who are in other nations serving "the least of these" and loving their neighbors as themselves. If Jesus told the Good Samaritan story today in response to "Who is my neighbor?", it might involve one of these countries we perceive as "not as important" as America. It's okay that they have to live like that, as long as we don't have to live like that, right?

I like to pray for the people I will meet in East Asia, that even now God will grow love in us for each other and that he will open my eyes to their needs.

I like to pray miraculous healing over people, though this is something I haven't done much yet. But I want to start doing it more because I believe in a God who raises the dead.

I like to throw my head back and laugh and lift my hands and jump around because I can't believe how amazing Jesus is and that I get to call him mine.

I like to meditate on heaven and the little moments of joy here that are only faint glimpses of my forever.

I like to pray for those who feel they can see only darkness in life, or that they are facing some insurmountable obstacle. I pray for the obstacle to be cleared and for the light to shine in the darkness.

I like to pray for the people in my classes who are enslaved to the idols of school and "success," that they will know the freedom of trusting the Father and not worrying about tomorrow.

I like to pray for you.

Electrostacrifice

Proof that I know a bit about science. I originally wrote it for a scholarship, but thought I would share it with you all. It was written in response to Socrates' assertion in the "Apology" that fear of disgrace ought to sustain a man's resolve in the hour of danger.

  

            One day in science class, our subject matter strayed like a rogue electron. Attending a small-town high school afforded many opportunities for free radical conversations since teachers were also our mentors, friends, and supplemental parents. We were discussing a story about an American soldier who flung himself on a grenade in Iraq to save his comrades nearby. One boy raised his hand and asked, “But Mr. Lewis, isn’t it always wrong to commit suicide?” The wise old teacher made no other response than to say, “Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” Then he went back to the chalkboard.

            I don’t think fear of disgrace is enough to sustain our resolve in the hour of danger, or if it is, then fear has killed our souls long before physical death could even touch us. The true motivation must be love. Not simply attraction, but rather an ionic bond that requires mutual sacrifice. C. S. Lewis wrote, "Love is not affectionate feeling, but a steady wish for the loved person's ultimate good as far as it can be obtained." It is a sacrificial spirit of humility, not the constant gratification of our desires.

            It is difficult to say what I would die for because I have never been placed in that situation, but I try to value Christ and his priorities above life itself. I hope that, if ever faced with a choice between life and honoring Christ, I would choose to honor him. I don’t say this to sound religious or holy, although I know it probably comes across that way in our culture. I say this because his sacrifice has engendered a sacrificial spirit in me, forming an electrostatic attraction that makes me smitten, enamored, head-over-heels in love with him. I admire him more than anyone else I've ever met or read about, and I'm irresistibly drawn to his love for me.

            I think we must be in love - true love - to deliberately die for something. The soldier who flung himself on the grenade didn’t have time to dismantle it or to think rationally, weighing the pros and cons of sacrificing himself. His decision came from the kind of deep love that doesn’t have to think; without question, his four friends came first. I will grant, however, that the kind of love that agonizes for hours on end about the decision to die for someone is even deeper. When I look at the story of Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane, how he spent all night in the most intense prayer ever lifted up on earth and still chose the cross, it makes his love even more divine.

            When I look at the example of the soldier and of Jesus, I see love and not fear of disgrace. Whether I ever have to physically sacrifice my life or not, that is the kind of love I want – an ionic bond that causes me to throw my selfish desires on a grenade each morning so that even while living, I can lay down my life for my friends.