I was sitting in the rooftop in Colombia interceding for my squad-mates who were at a local park ministering to the homeless population who resided there at night. It was a very normal in the evenings for half of the team to hit the streets to minister and the other half the team to stay back and intercede on the rooftop.
Intercession and prayer was something I had always grown up doing. My parents taught us from a young age the importance of prayer and my church and Christian school education continued to instill that within me. Now, as a 21-year-old adult I have journals and journals full of prayers I’ve written to the Lord, dating back to my early middle school days. Therefore, asking me to pray for others while they minister come pretty naturally… or so I thought.
Yet, as we sat there on the roof I found myself struggling. I quickly realized that I can talk to God for hours. I seldom find nothing to say, but when I sit there wanting to hear from the Lord I quickly find myself distracted and frustrated by the lack of words. Far too often I sat there, waiting for a profound word and all He whispered was “I love you!” While the reality that the God of heaven loves me is something that I pray will always leave me awestruck, sitting on the roof at night I wanted to hear more. I wanted to hear about the people being ministered to, about my squad-mates, and the city of Medellin.
The next time I sat there, with journal in hand and asked the Father to clearly speak to me concerning the ministry taking place on the street. We turned on some worship music and began asking the Lord to speak to us. We sat there for a few minutes and then I saw a picture of a pregnant woman in my mind. Truthfully, I ignored it and didn’t give it much thought. Yet, as hard as I tried this image of a woman with child kept occurring in my mind. So, I prayed for her. Whoever she may be. I wrote down “pregnant woman” in my journal and continued interceding for those on the streets. Once, I prayed for her and wrote it down in my journal, the image of her went away.
An hour or two later the team arrived back and together we all sat on the roof sharing stories. They shared what the Lord did on the streets and we shared with the Lord reveled to us on the roof. I remained silent, I thought about mentioning the pregnant woman but figured it was nothing. The last thing I wanted to say was “Did anyone see a pregnant woman?” and the room go silent. Oh, me of little faith.
After a few silent moments, a girl who had been interceding on the roof alongside of me asked, “Did anyone talk to a pregnant woman? I had this vision and drew her picture!” I was shocked, but even more shocked when a girl who had been on the streets shared that she had indeed encountered a woman who was four months pregnant.
For a moment, I sat there in shame. Wondering why I was so scared to say something. Why was I so quick to think that the vision wasn’t of the Lord? Why did I think that when I prayed for something clearly in His word and in accordance to His will that He wouldn’t answer that prayer? Yet, as He always does the Lord quickly redeemed that moment and extended grace for my unbelief and remined me of the powers that my prayers truly do hold.
From that moment on, the Lord and I began a journey of what it meant to partner with the Lord in prayer. Learning what it means to talk to Him in prayer and not just at Him in prayer. I quickly learned that so many times the Lord is speaking to me, but I’m just far too busy or distracted to recognize that it is Him who is speaking.
The process that started in Colombia, carried into Ecuador and now in our first couple of days in Peru is already becoming evident yet again. How much more powerful our prayers can be when we actually get to hear from the Lord? When we walk away knowing that we didn’t just share our lives and hurts and joys with the Lord, but that He meet us there in the midst of wherever we are and responded.
“Because He inclines His ear to me, I will call on Him for as long as I live.” Psalm 116:2
