Elizabeth taught me something about prayer.
She had cut her lip. I’m not sure exactly how it happened. It was just a collateral injury related her full-throttle enthusiasm in all things. I guess you could call her dramatic: Her lip was hurt, therefore she couldn’t eat. She couldn’t talk. She couldn’t go without a bandaid on her face.
And then she got all profound on me.
Tucking her in later that night, I knelt down by her bed to pray aloud for her and Hannah and Micah. I usually ask the Father for their rest in Jesus, both for the night and for forever. I want my children to rest in Jesus. So I began the usual…
“Father, please give Elizabeth and Han—” “Pray for my lip!” she interrupted just like this typeface looks, quick and bold.
Without missing a step I turned the prayer towards her little injury. “Father, please help Elizabeth to trust you in—” “My lip! My lip!“ now with more urgency she jumped in. She said it as if she was feared she was too vague the time before.
I chuckled inside and started again. “Please make Elizabeth’s lip to feel bett…”— “Ask him to heal it!“
This time she said it with a childlike impatience we often chastise. I didn’t say anything now. I just stopped. The only thing rebuked in this moment was how I pray.
It was a simple prayer request from my four-year old. Her lip hurt and she wanted God to heal it. And there I was appointing as many theological governors as I could. It seemed a good time to teach her about what really mattered — you know, not the healing, but faith and Jesus and loving him.
But the kid just wanted her lip to feel better.
She knew God could do it.
My reluctance to get to the point exposed my unbelief: Theological governors are great, but not when they’re used to disguise a lack of faith in God doing what you really ask.
I’m a footnote kind of guy with footnote kind of friends. We like clarity — what we’re saying and what we’re not and so forth. And then there are times when we just need to say it. Or in this case, ask it. Jesus didn’t make it that complicated. Why would we?
Elizabeth taught me something about prayer.