Warrior

Since losing Riley there are things about God's character I ponder. There are so many questions I have. So, I talk to him a lot. I praise him and thank him, I grapple with him and wonder about him. Sometimes he answers, and other times he is stone-cold silent. Can I be real for a second and say how much I hate that? I hate waiting, and I hate silence. Despite that feeling, I know in my heart of hearts that prayer is powerful, prayer is real, and prayer is necessary. What I know in the depths of my soul is that talking to God matters...significantly. Prayer is essential for a relationship to take place. It is a vital part of learning about who God is and His immeasurable depth and love for us, even in waiting. Even in silence.

My pickup is my favorite place to pray. Sometimes I picture Jesus riding shotgun in my truck. I picture him listening and reaching over and holding my hand while I cry and vent. Some people save it for the shower or their therapist's office, but my F150 does the trick. I break down behind the wheel with him a lot. I guess it just feels like a safe place to unravel. I'm sure stop-light strangers have had their opinions, but for whatever reason it doesn't matter. I feel shielded and invincible with the radio up and Jesus in the front seat. I even picture him smiling and laughing and shaking his head while I click through my extensive country music playlist. Because I know in my core that Jesus is relational and loving and meets us right smack dab in the middle of our earthly messes and hurts. I know he will meet me in my truck whenever I ask, even when Morgan Wallen is blaring through my speakers. He meets me there because he loves me. He meets me there because he knows me and sees me and wants so badly to comfort me. He meets me there because prayer is the heartbeat of our relationship.

I have a friend who prays a lot. Her name is Erica. She is quiet and gentle but mighty and powerful when she talks to Jesus. She is small and petit in stature but larger than life when she goes to the Lord for help. The enemy is terrified of her, I'm sure of it. When she wakes up, darkness and deception hold their breath because she goes to war every day for her people through the power of prayer. The way she brings glory to the kingdom is awe-inspiring. The way she loves others so intentionally and self-sacrificing is a sight to be seen. And the way she prays? She is steadfast and unwavering. She is bold and courageous. She listens to her convictions and gives them to the Lord wholeheartedly and open-handedly. And with a quiet, tender voice she goes to battle. She is an intercessor.

She is a warrior.

The first night she went to battle for me was the night we lost Riley. Walls and space and doors separated us while she pleaded with God Almighty. She prayed in pure confidence that a miracle was about to take place down that dark hallway. She prayed with the intention that God was going to move and save Riley's life. She could have been panicking, or pacing, instead she was praying. She prayed out loud with others gathered in the Emergency Department waiting room. She led with a charge. She did not go down without a fight. But God did not heal Riley this side of Heaven. He did not perform a miracle down that dark hallway. He did not save his life on the highway. Riley died. Was God not listening? Did he not hear Erica's pleas and cries? Where was he?

He answered with silence.

And with that piercing silence came waves of grief and loss and sorrow and confusion. With that silence came collateral damage to Erica's heart and all the human hearts that were praying for a miracle.

When the unbearable weight of God's silence fell on MercyOne hospital that night, it would have been plausible for Erica to be angry at him. It would have been acceptable to question and wonder and curse and yell. It would have even been rational for her to stop praying. She could have given up and thrown in the towel, and for a moment she did. When we heard the devastating news that Riley was gone she stopped praying. She had to sit in that silence for a while, we all did. But the Lord broke that silence and gently tugged on her fragile heart. He whispered to her amidst the cloud of death and darkness and confusion and told her to tirelessly start praying. He asked her to put her armor back on and go to war again. This time it wasn't for a miracle. It wasn't for Riley's life. This time it was for the 29-year-old widow lying face-first on the cold ground in the dark hallway of the Emergency Department.

This time it was for me.

Erica began to endlessly pray for me. She prayed for my crushed and weary body mind, and soul. Before I go on, I need to pause and make this part known. There is a certain kind of love and obedience inside someone who intentionally prays on your behalf. It's a selfless kind of love. Some people might chalk this up to being a "good person" or just being "kind." But the love Erica has is so deep, and so wide. It is not only intentional, it is also genuine. This kind of love can only come from one place, and it truthfully has nothing to do with Erica. This kind of love has everything to do with Jesus. She has a relationship with him and it is apparent in all facets of her life. She walks and talks with him every day, and believe me when I tell you that she is obedient when he speaks to her. Because that's what prayer warriors do. They listen and they are obedient.

So in those early hours Erica talked to Jesus late into the night and early in the mornings. He woke her up at 2:00 a.m. to go to battle for me while simultaneously I fought sleepless nights and horrific flashbacks of the scene of the accident. My vulnerable and helpless estate was under attack. She went toe to toe with the trauma my eyes had seen. She went toe to toe with the evil one. She prayed God's word over my grieving spirit that was so intensely receptible to darkness. She pleaded with the Lord that peace would fill up my heart and home. She prayed that he would make his presence known and felt and seen. She asked that miracles on miracles on miracles would fall on me in the hours, days, and months after Riley took up residence in heaven. She begged the Lord boldly to turn tragedy into triumph. To turn pain into purpose.

And this time, God was not silent. This time his answers were so incredibly loud it was deafening. His answers were remarkably clear and clamorous. He moved mightily. He moved and made it known that Riley's death was not in vain. He moved to further the kingdom and draw people to Himself. I could fill notebooks of all the things God has done since Riley's death. Unfathomable things. Things you would only believe if you witnessed them with your own eyes. I know the people who have seen it firsthand hold incredible testimonies of God's faithfulness and redemption. They have seen the goodness of God up close. Fifteen months later, he is still working and moving and answering. Fifteen months later Erica and so many others are still praying for me every day.

I will end with this. Prayer is a powerful weapon we hold my friends. And whether you are praying casually in your F150 at a stop light or desperately in an Emergency Department waiting room in the middle of the night...the same God is listening. The same God is right beside you. And I am here to tell you the truth. He is approachable and kind. He is mighty and powerful. And although I still have questions about him, I never question who he is. I'll keep praying. I'll keep talking to him even when it's hard and messy and confusing. I'll talk to him when his voice falls silent and I'll talk to him when his voice is roaring. I have witnessed both in extreme measures and I can tell you in pure confidence that no matter what he is still good... and because of that goodness I'll talk to him for the rest of my days. I know Erica will too.