The Moving Prayer

By Robert P. Donalson

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     I have a confession to make. I'm a little embarrassed to tell you about it because I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea about me. I can be as coldly logical as the next guy, and objectivity and truth mean as much to me as anyone. I know that religion is supposed to be logical and not emotional but the truth of the matter is I cry a lot. It isn't something new for me either, I must admit.

     I can remember as a kid in high school how it used to bring a lot of teasing my way. I guess I was the only player on the football team who would cry when I went to those old Lassie movies. Of course I knew that real men do not cry so I usually pretended I had gotten something in my eye or that my hay fever was bothering me again, or else I just made sure that I hid it quickly before someone saw me.

     That was my mistake, I guess, because that way I never really developed the will to stop. Oh, I stopped crying at the Lassie movies, but other things came along to take their place. Every now and then it was poetry and sometimes a beautiful piece of music. I guess all that is really innocent but I suppose I had better tell you the serious part of it and be honest. I even cry in our religious meetings sometimes.

     For instance, there was last Sunday morning. I was leading the singing as usual and it was an ordinary service. We had the usual quota of dull-eyed dozers and prayers full of cliche expressions that we only half heard. Don't misunderstand me. I do not mean to be critical. I'm just trying to say it was a typical service. There was no moving oratory from the pulpit to stir me up the way you sometimes feel during a "big meeting."

     At the end of the service, though, I decided that I wouldn't call on someone without warning from the pulpit to dismiss the service but led the prayer myself. Everything was going fine in that prayer when my mind suddenly went blank. I just couldn't remember, "If we have been faithful own and crown us in that upper and better kingdom." That's what was so funny about it because I've always been able to remember all of the "right" things to say before.

     Naturally I couldn't stop right there and say "Amen," not until I could think of what you were to say before that. After all there were visitors in the audience. What would they think? I knew I had to stall for time so I just started talking "off the top of my head." Or, was it from the bottom of my heart? I think that is when it started. It was like something had burst deep down inside of me and just had to

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come out. The more I talked to God about it the more the tears kept getting in the way. Oh, my voice didn't break or anything like that, but you can imagine how embarrassed I was to get emotional that way. After all, it was just a routine dismissal prayer.

     That's about it, I guess. It was over before I really knew what was happening. Somehow, though, I keep remembering it and decided I had better tell about it. I suppose I shouldn't let it bother me but I keep thinking that once before I felt that way. It was when I bought a copy of the Phillips' Translation and was reading 1 Corinthians 13 to myself. I remember that I quickly turned to Acts 2:38 and that sobered me up right away. There's nothing like a good dose of straight first principles to sober a man up. It's a good thing, too, or else people would go around talking about "a conversion experience" or something like that. Still I wonder sometimes. You don't suppose there's really anything to all of that talk about the Holy Spirit, do you? It may be something to think about!

     Editor's Note. Robert P. Donalson is a Professor of Music at Illinois Wesleyan University, Bloomington, Illinois.