I have had some people ask me to 
pray for them recently. I’ve told some other people that I am praying for them. I realized that I probably better tell you what I am doing when I agree or offer to pray. After all, it could be dangerous.
————–
Picture a conversation between a dad and a child, in kitchen of the house, early in the morning. The dad has been up for a long time and is on his second cup of coffee, the child not as long, but long enough to be sitting at the table with a glass of milk.
This is not a dysfunctional relationship, but a dad and a child who get along, a dad that actually shows up and cares and provides and loves. And the child? A child that is probably 6 or 7, old enough to converse and to acknowledge the people around, young enough to get tired and pouty, young enough to forget, young enough to think that there are no boundaries and then to discover that there are, young enough to not have skills to do much that is beautiful or productive…unless you are looking through a loving dad’s eyes.
See the picture? Now picture a friend of that child sitting on the back step, crying in the early morning mist. Something is lost, someone is hurt, something isn’t right.
The child and dad look out. The child waits for the dad to do something, the dad is watching the child. The child slips down from the table and walks to the sliding glass door.
“Come in.”
But the friend just shakes her head.
The child walks out and sits down next to the friend, just sitting, listening.
“You can come in and talk to my dad. He can do anything.”
“I can’t. He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t care anyway.”
“Yes, he does. But I know. He doesn’t look very friendly at first. I’ll be right back.”
The child walks back into the house.
“Dad? What can I do? What can you do?”
The child walks back out and sits next to the friend. He gives her a hug.
“That’s from my dad.”
He hands her a glass of milk.
“That’s from my dad, too. He knew you liked chocolate in it.”
He sits quietly for a minute.
“My dad said you can sit here as long as you need to. He said I can sit here with you.”
—————
That’s what I’m doing. I hope you don’t mind.
——-
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Wow, that’s deep, Jon. Great writing that means a lot…
Comment by Bryan Villarin — September 12, 2007 @ 3:30 pm
Jon,
I love this. May I borrow this example to share with pals? Big smiles here…
-Kait
Comment by Kait Swanson — September 12, 2007 @ 4:05 pm
Thanks bryan, for stopping by.
Kait, feel free. I’m just taking dictation anyway.
Comment by Jon Swanson — September 12, 2007 @ 4:38 pm
Some of us may be talking to your dad on our own, but just want some company on the back step, too. In fact, I may be one of those people.
Comment by Becky McCray — September 12, 2007 @ 4:41 pm
You are a blessing to me!
It’s a pleasure to pray for you too…
Comment by paul merrill — September 12, 2007 @ 7:24 pm
I don’t think I’ve ever cried reading a blog post before. Good one.
Comment by chrisbrogan — September 12, 2007 @ 10:52 pm
Yah. That’s it Jon. Spot on.
Comment by Phillip — September 12, 2007 @ 10:56 pm
Wow… Touching story.
Comment by Joe Philipson — September 12, 2007 @ 10:56 pm
A wonderful analogy, Jon. I know a couple of people who really needed that glass of chocolate milk today … and I was glad I whispered their names to you earlier. Thank you for sitting out on the back steps with us.
Comment by Connie Reece — September 12, 2007 @ 10:57 pm
I’m somehow too moved to cry? But. Same difference. Jon, I drank a lot of that chocolate milk last month. Thank you.
Comment by Laura Athavale Fitton — September 12, 2007 @ 11:02 pm
Found your blog through Brogan’s Twitter - chrisbrogan Curse that JnSwanson . His blog post made me cry: http://tinyurl.com/26hnjr That’s a first.
Wow…thank you! Very powerful, very needed.
Comment by Zena — September 12, 2007 @ 11:03 pm
Awesome story Jon. That captures prayer for others so well.
Comment by Ed Roberts — September 12, 2007 @ 11:21 pm
What a lovely thing. What a huge, lovely thing.
I’m sharing this - thank you.
Comment by jquig99 — September 12, 2007 @ 11:24 pm
[...] What I mean when I say I pray [...]
Pingback by Miscellaneous Uses for a Blog » Blog Archive » What praying for others is like — September 12, 2007 @ 11:45 pm
Thank you.
Comment by Ray — September 12, 2007 @ 11:47 pm
Whoah. I’ve never heard that aspect of prayer put in words anywhere near as powerful. Thank you… and thanks to Dad for giving those words to you.
Comment by Sean — September 12, 2007 @ 11:52 pm
wow! amazing! real. Thank you. In this way, I’ll pray for my friends.
Comment by Lori L. — September 12, 2007 @ 11:56 pm
[...] one person’s perspective on multiple meanings of the verb to pray. [...]
Pingback by Texas Blue Lime Productions » to pray — September 12, 2007 @ 11:58 pm
Excellent article! Thanks Chris for sharing it too.
Brent
Comment by Brent — September 13, 2007 @ 12:05 am
Beautiful
Comment by Jennifer Navarrete — September 13, 2007 @ 12:10 am
I haven’t stopped crying all day. This post? No different.
Comment by Melissa — September 13, 2007 @ 12:35 am
Empathy, sympathy, caring, consideration, thinking about someone else are all laudable traits and actions. Why muddy it up with the loaded notion of “prayer?”
Comment by Frank — September 13, 2007 @ 5:45 am
Beautiful.
Looking forward to sharing it.
Thank you.
Suzy Miller
Comment by suzymilleryurtmyopenidcom — September 13, 2007 @ 8:48 am
Thanks, all, for your interactions and responses. Yesterday was, for me, one of hearing about much crisis in the lives of people close to me, and I wanted to figure out how to describe what I was doing. Someone mentioned tears: I was crying while writing.
One of my struggles is with the very word “pray”. In our everyday conversation, we have dozens of words to describe our interaction with each other, some positive (chatting, laughing, teasing), some pretty obnoxious (screaming, shoving). However, then we come to God and we use the word pray. That reduction is part of why we struggle so with the remoteness of God.
In this parable, for it probably is in that genre, I’m looking at what I mean and what I do when I’m doing what is commonly known as prayer. I’m more than happy to abandon the term. But I’m enjoying the conversations too much not keep coming back to the table, though I enjoy coffee in the early morning far more than milk.
Comment by Jon Swanson — September 13, 2007 @ 9:05 am
Thank you
Comment by Agnes — September 13, 2007 @ 11:46 am
Something awoke within me on reading this.
I didn’t grow up within any religious tradition and have never in my life even entertained the notion of a god “being.” I’ve never been comfortable with labeling myself atheist or agnostic, as both terms imply relationship with the concept of a sentient god — hostility toward it, or ambivalence/uncertainty toward it — and I have no relationship at all with that concept.
And yet over the last five years I’ve learned to pray, and I recognize in this piece the essence of what I find in the act of prayer. (When I do it, that is — it’s definitely all about making it a practice, the more I pray the more rewarding and anchoring it becomes.)
For me, prayer is about giving myself permission to feel loved, cared for, accepted — unconditionally. It is about opening myself to feeling *a part of* the living universe, in this very instant of the present, instead of holding myself *apart from* the rest of “what Is.” A Christian friend once took me by the shoulders and looked into my eyes and told me to “remember — you … are… a … precious .. child … of God.” And even though I didn’t hold with the details of the story he told himself about “what Is,” I was lucky enough to hear something wordless and universal underneath his words, and accept it into myself (instead of throwing up a wall inside that says “no I’m not, I’m a tiny speck of detritus swirling in chaos”). And I knew I was experiencing “grace,” in my own way.
And in such moments, when I allow myself to feel a perfect part of the fabric of the living universe, I usually find that I want to do some things for myself and for others; I hear what my “best self” wants; I learn what’s the next right thing for me to do.
Thanks for waking up this part of myself. And thanks to Brogan for the pointer.
Comment by Ian Wilker — September 13, 2007 @ 12:41 pm
[...] what i mean when i say - pray I have had some people ask me to [image]pray for them recently. I’ve told some other people that I am praying for […] [...]
Pingback by Top English WP Blogs « Hành trang 8X — September 13, 2007 @ 8:12 pm
This is such a tender description of the praying life. I am so glad that my daughter-in-law read it on a friend’s blog and posted it for me to read. My husband and I have been on the receiving in of many prayers this year and have truly learned He knows and He cares. Thanks for your insight.
Comment by Sandy Little/Grandmommy — September 14, 2007 @ 7:29 am
funny, i knew that.
sometimes I’m jealous of your ability to express yourself.
oh yeah, thanks for the milk.
Comment by jill — September 21, 2007 @ 2:31 pm
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Pingback by Picturing Praying « Mr. Wang Kai (aka Allen) — January 22, 2008 @ 5:45 pm
Excellent article! Thank you.
Comment by laurentiu vlad — February 26, 2008 @ 2:24 pm
[...] 1. He writes. And writes (he does this a lot). Jon doesn’t know this but he’s the first person of faith I’ve felt comfortable talking to in a very long time. It all started with What I Mean When I Say Pray. [...]
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