Earlier this week, I was walking back to my dorm room with a friend who was headed to class. After some typical chit-chat, she started explaining a fast she planned to start. I said, “Oh, cool; I’ll keep you in my prayers.” We exchanged goodbyes and that was it.
Next thing I knew, I was lying on my bed (like the potato I am) and I felt a little off. I had never felt such doubt about something I did with a genuine heart. What I could not understand was why I had a feeling so deeply in my tummy; it hurt. I knew it wasn’t the burrito I ate because my mind continued to go back to that conversation.
After thinking about it for a few hours, I figured it out. That "feeling" I couldn't shake was complete and utter conviction. And no, it wasn't an urge to fast.
As it says in Matthew 18:19-20, “Again I say to you, if two of you agree on earth about anything they ask, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them.” Anything. I mean, come on. God is pretty cool. I have found that it's even cooler to learn about his love with people you love.
By saying that I would pray for her and subsequently walking away, the power of prayer was thrown away. I absolutely gave up the opportunity to allow a little bit more intentionality—the kind that comes with diving into Jesus with a friend who I love—in my life and hers. Then, as per my overly-analytical ways, I started to think about how often I throw out that promise, knowing that I may or may not actually get around to praying for that person.
In that moment, it would’ve taken me 45 seconds to reach out to my Father and just dive in; 45 seconds to show my friend that nothing else in the world mattered outside of me and her asking for guidance from the King of Kings. Unfortunately, I chose to spend those 45 seconds differently.
I thought of how many other people I have done that too. The number of missed opportunities is too high to count. Too many people who needed nothing more than a little Jesus (or a lot of Jesus) didn’t get him in those moments.
To anyone who I promised to pray for: I am sorry. To anyone who I promised and didn’t: I am sorry. I have allowed the craziness of life to interfere with someone receiving a bit more guidance, Jesus-love or healing.
Allow me to live life with you. I want this season of intentionality to turn into a way of life. Let’s be the embodiment of Acts 2 and break bread, live life and do this crazy walk with Jesus, together.
